Drawn Together
Page 18

Things were changing. More than they had in a really long time. Since the divorce, when all the change had been positive but came from an extremely negative process.
But it was five years later. Seven, really, since things had deteriorated so badly between him and the ex. Carrie had blossomed as a teenager. Her grades had improved when Charlotte had left for New York and exited Carrie’s life.
Carrie was moving on to the next step. Going to college in the fall. He missed that little girl he’d taught how to sail. But he knew she’d be a wonderful woman. Knew she was strong and intelligent and would succeed. He was proud of that. Proud of her.
And now he had time to think about himself again. Not as a father. Not as a son or a partner at work. But as a man.
Change was good.
6
“So let’s try you sitting first. I’m going to get the outline started.”
Raven had shown up with her hair tied away from her face, in an ages’-old Bikini Kill T-shirt and faded jeans. She was just as beautiful as she was more dressed up.
“How long will it take, do you think?”
“All told? A full back piece can take several sessions. This is mainly black and gray work, but there’ll be lots of shading. That sort of detail is more time consuming than the larger sections of black.” She shrugged. “It’s not going to be a quick one.”
Not like he was going to complain at getting her in his house one on one.
“Okay then. Dinner after?”
She gave him a raised brow. “You’re not going to feel like making me dinner after I work on you for two hours.”
“I know how to dial a phone. And I promised martinis.”
She shrugged. “All right then.”
He turned music on before pulling his shirt off and sitting, straddling the back of the chair as she rolled a nearby stool over.
“Step one is that I’m going to do a transfer of sorts of my design to your back. Mainly so you can see the position to be sure you like the placement. The detail I do as I go along. I like that part. It’s organic. We gonna be all right with that?”
“Whatever are you trying to say?”
She snorted. “You’re a control freak. This is my design. I make the choices. I’m quite bossy about that.”
“I’m not sure you know me well enough yet to say I’m a control freak. Though you’re right. There are areas I’m willing to cede to you. How the tattoo evolves is one of them. I’ve seen enough of your work to know you have a great aesthetic and one I click with.”
“Hm.”
She settled in behind him, touching him matter-of-factly for several moments before rolling back and putting a mirror in his hand. “Go look to be sure it’s where you want it.”
He did, liking where she’d put it.
“Good.”
“It’ll dominate your back, but in a good way.”
He smiled her way and liked her startled response. Liked shaking her up for some reason. He felt like a predator around her.
“Sit down so I can get started.”
He got back into position and so did she. He watched in the corner of his vision as she got her ink and stuff set up on a low table next to her stool. It wasn’t long before the buzz of the needle machine filled the air and she got closer and began the outline.
Tattooing was a ritual for her. Some people lit candles or prayed. She loved the hum of the needle. Loved the feel of the skin under her hands and the beginning of a new design.
He was muscled. Not in a bodybuilder sense, but he was fit and he had wide shoulders and a strong back. The tat would look sexy on him and he was certainly bold enough to carry off a full back piece.
“Why did you decide to do tattoos?”
“It was a way to get away from sweeping up hair and doing shitty perms at the salon I worked at when I came out to L.A.”
“Did you apprentice or go to school for it?”
“I got a job at a tattoo shop, cleaning up after hours. So I scrubbed toilets, and oh my god, let me say that was enough to get up the nerve to ask the owner if I could do ink work instead. He was a good guy and around my scrubbing and sweeping, he started to train me.”
He’d been good to her. It had been hard for a good year not to suspect that he would use that kindness to get her into bed. But he never betrayed her that way. It had been the first real positive in years. A step into her new life. Where she was in control.
“The money was decent. I had benefits. The better I got and the better my reputation, the easier it was for me to move around and work here and there. Did you always want to be a lawyer?”
He lifted his shoulders. “It’s the family business. My dad and his brother took over the firm their father started.”
“Don’t shrug.”
“Sorry. You’re bossy.”
“I am about my ink.”
“I have to say the pain and the hum of the needle sort of puts me in a trance. Having your hands on me isn’t bad either.”
“I’m the same way when I’m getting work done. I think it’s fairly common. As for having my hands on you—it’s not like you have to get a tattoo for that to happen.”
“True.”
“Back to the subject of the law. Do you like it? Or do you do it because you were expected to?”
“Do you just say whatever pops into your head?”
“Sometimes. If that was rude though, you’ll have to explain why, because I can’t see it.”