10. Derek

CHAPTER TEN

Derek

I ndy is so goddamn adorable it pisses me off.

When she came into Hel's with that princess dress on and all her pretty, sparkling make-up and that fucking smile. Radiant isn't a good enough word to describe Indy's genuine smile. The one that makes her eyes twinkle and get squinty, her nose wrinkles, and those goddamn dimples. They make my knees weak. Which, in turn, pisses me off further. I'm in my fucking forties, and nothing should be weakening my knees. But she looked so fucking sweet I felt the need to punch something to stop me from smiling at her. Which I nearly did when those fucking dicks started saying inappropriate shit to her.

She's staying at a friend's apartment until she finds another place. It made my stomach twist when she said that. All I wanted to do was beg her to come back to my house. My house. My favorite fucking place in the world has become a dwelling that I dread going to every day. I thought I hated it when Indy was there. Now I'm looking for the same dryer sheets she used on my clothes, and I still can't figure out which one it was. I'm convinced she just sat in there and sang to my underwear during the spin cycle because nothing I use gives me the same comfort. And fucking hell, the silence. It's too fucking quiet at my house, and it's given me a constant headache. I don't like it. I don't like that, and I'm bothered by it. I don't like that I'm itchy and irritated, and I really don't like the constant heartburn that has returned.

"Hey, Derek," Fox's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I raise a brow as he walks over to my station and sets his tablet in front of me. "Listen, I know your rule on helping, but my client wants this black and grey fallen angel down her hip and thigh." I stare at the image of the mournful female with downcast eyes, shredded robes, and tattered wings. "I'm not in love with it, but I can't figure out why, and the last thing I want is to put this on her and hate it."

"It's a nice piece," I state simply, somewhat distracted as Stevie and Indy surface from the back room. "But your lighting is off, which is causing her to look flat. What's the shape of the client?" Did she get her nose pierced? I see the small twinkle from her nose as she talks to Stevie and Janie.

"Petite all over, on the thinner side," Fox states as he scratches his beard. "Why?"

"Hey Indy," I call out, and everyone freezes. Indy flinches before looking nervously between Fox and me, as if I'm about to scold her. I motion with my hand for her to come over before looking at Fox. "You got a paper version?" I watch a knowing smirk appear on the man's face, and he nods. I inwardly sigh. I don't help out at the shop. I've never had to. It was an unspoken rule that I didn't have to take repeats and didn't help with other artists' work. But I guess it won't hurt if I can help this once. Plus, I think the piece has a shot at being a good one if I can help. At least maybe then I'll be left alone at the convention.

"Yeah?" Indy's timid voice grabs my attention. Why's she acting nervous with me? I don't like that. The thought of her not feeling comfortable around me bothers me. Should I really be surprised, considering that before today, I spent most of my time scolding her or screaming at her in the kitchen? Fuck, I'm a dick.

"Hey darlin'," I say, forcing my tone to be softer than usual. I watch her blue eyes widen, and a pink hue appears over her pretty cheeks. I think she likes it when I call her that, and for some reason that I refuse to think about, I like that she likes it, too. "I need to help Fox with a tattoo. Can we use you as a model?"

I watch a smile form on her face, and fuck… those dimples. Goddamn, her dimples are going to be my undoing.

"Really? Oh my gosh! Yes! What do I need to do?" She's practically vibrating at the request, and I try to think of the words to answer her question. But I can only think that no one should look as pretty as her.

It's fucking annoying.

"Just stand there for a second," Fox says as he walks over with his printed design. "We're going to tape this paper around your thigh, alright?" Indy gives both Fox and me the thumbs up and I grab some tape, already regretting this decision as we wrap the paper around her thigh. I place the tape between her thighs on the stencil's edge like I've done on clients a hundred thousand times before. But this time, it feels different. This time, as my hand touches her soft thigh, I drop the tape twice. Then, I had to wipe the sweat off my palms because the tape wouldn't stick. Taking a breath, I grab a sharpie and a pencil before tossing a pillow on the floor to sit on.

"Alright, come here," I say to her while motioning for Fox to come over. "Pull up the sketch on the tablet." Fox pulls his glasses from his head and taps his screen until he pulls the image back up.

"Indy, if you start feeling—"

"I'll be fine, Derek," she giggles. "You can't break me." I nod before looking at her body and the tattoo's placement. As hard of a time as I'm having, I finally seem to be able to switch off the broken part of my brain that acts like a damn idiot every time she's around and go into professional tattoo artist mode, no longer seeing her as Indiana Johnson with her curly hair, sing-song voice, and dimples, but a human body with angles and shapes.

"So your client is proportional to Indy, right? Thinner, petite all over?"

Fox nods. "Yeah, she might be a little taller, but Indy's legs are longer."

I grab Indy's arm. "Put that over your chest, darlin'. Good, just like that. Now, I would fade the wings a little more toward the sides and bottom." I state and start shading the area on her thigh. I feel her tense slightly, but I don't say anything.

"For you to get the most out of the angel's face, you're gonna want her to be in the light due to the size of the head. But I'd move the light source. You have it straight on, and I get why, you have her eyes looking down." I take the sharpie and draw the eyes looking upwards. "But if you make them look up with the same pained expression, you can move the light source. If you can imagine the light coming down from her chest, over her hip," I drag the end of the marker over her chest in the direction I'm suggesting. "See? Then it flows well, the shading and highlights will have a better life-like effect, and the shading won't end weird and do anything to cause her ass to look off."

"Dude!" Ash yells from his station. "That's my fucking sister." I blink in confusion before I realize what I just said.

"Not that your ass could look off," I say as I look up at Indy. "Not that I've noticed," Goddamn it. I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that I'm wrapped around her, gripping part of her thigh to hold the paper steady while I'm sketching.

Deciding I've talked and helped enough for the day, I move away and stand up. "But it's your tattoo. Do what you want," I mutter while cleaning my station up, grabbing my bag, and quickly heading out the door.

I make it down the steps before Indy's voice halts my steps. "Derek, wait!" I see her at the top of the steps and watch as she grips the handrail with both her hands while trying to take a step down. My eyes widen, and fear fills me at the thought of her falling.

"Woah, woah, darlin'!" I say as I rush up the stairs to stop her descent. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Tattoo me." She says firmly, and I furrow my brow.

"Do what now?"

"I want a tattoo. Ash refuses to do it, and the guys won't either. Please? I'll pay you double." I laugh as I turn around and start heading back down the steps.

"Sure thing! As soon as hell freezes over."

"Uh!" she scoffs, and I turn to see her take a step.

"Little darlin', you keep coming down them steps and watch what happens," I warn as I point at the back door of Hel's. "Now get your ass back on in there."

"You know what?" she huffs as she heads to the door. "I can see why everyone calls you grumpy!" She states before walking back inside. I chuckle lightly to myself as I head to my vehicle.

The ride home is uneventful, minus the four missed phone calls. One from each of my brothers and the fourth from our kind of sister, Theo. I'm not going back to Virginia. I care about my mama, and I care for her as the oldest son should. But I have limits, and going back to the place where my ex-wife is still running around ain't something I'm willing to do. It's a small town. Word would get around that I was there, and she'd make her way onto Rowe Ranch just to burn my ass. I will help pay for anything my parents need because they are good people, but that is it.

When I walk into my house, I'm annoyed instantly, and I don't know why. I look around the living room. Everything is in its place, exactly how I like it. In the kitchen, I pull out my meal for the night, and preheat the oven before heading down the hall to the laundry room, where my pajamas from last night sit in the washer. I strip off my clothes, throw them in the washer, and throw my detergent pod in there when I see I'm out. Out? I'm not out. I'm never out. Yet, here I stand, buck naked, staring down at my empty container of detergent pods. I should've had five left, which would've been fine because I'd go to the store tomorrow before the trip to the convention.

Setting the container down, I walk back to my kitchen to put my meal in the oven while I shower. But as I open the oven door, there's no heat. I frown and stare at the oven before rolling my eyes. I didn't turn the oven on. Groaning in frustration, I press the preheat button with more force than necessary before walking to my room to shower.

I stand in the shower and think about the one thing I'd give anything not to think about. Fucking Indy Johnson. It's amazing how much space that tiny woman occupies in my brain. My mind goes back to gripping her thigh. I can't really remember how it felt, and it annoys me. I was in professional mode and had everything else switched off.

Still, that doesn't stop my cock from hardening as I think about being that close to her.

"Really fucker," I grumble at the thing as he continues to harden. In annoyance, I grip my cock and force myself not to think about Indy as I begin to stroke my shaft. I focus on the white tile ahead of me as I let out a small groan.

"Derek..." Indy's sweet voice fills my ears, and my breath shudders.

"Damn it," I whisper as I try to refocus, but the memory of touching her in the break room comes to my mind, then of her bent over in my living room in her underwear.

"Fuckkk." I groan out. Nearly in pain from the pressure building. My fucking brain will not cooperate with me and stop putting flashes of Indy in my head.

"Derek..." I feel my balls tighten, and I brace myself against the shower wall as a guttural noise escapes me as I feel myself release. I watch while I come on the shower floor. As I come back down, I run my hand over my face with a shame I'm becoming all too familiar with recently.

"Perfect, you fucking idiot. Just fucking perfect."

Sitting on my futon, I stare at the bracelet on my wrist, spinning the beads absently.

"Why do you have on long sleeves?"

I chuckle lightly at her question from earlier. I sigh, talking to my empty room, "Because I have to wear this fucking bracelet until I die, and I can't let you know."

Today should've been the perfect schedule reset day: work, home routine, sleep. But I ran out of laundry detergent and forgot to preheat the oven, and then the food I cooked was burned. Now I'm sitting here, spinning this bracelet around on my wrist, wishing like hell I could hear Indy humming in her room.

Groaning, I stand up and turn the futon into a bed as I blow out the candle burning on the coffee table before lying down and praying that I go to sleep soon.