Chapter 4

4

Isla

H e didn’t say anything while she prepped her materials, or when she instructed him to sit on the chair.

She looked at the chair proudly. It was the Rolls Royce of tattooing chairs, one she never would have been able to afford, except Tim had been kind enough to leave it for her. No use for it myself , he’d claimed. Except she knew he could have financed months of his trip by selling it.

Ry leaned back, relaxing into the black leather. Isla allowed herself one more instant to admire that beautiful, hard upper body, keeping her gaze above his belt buckle, not wanting to ogle the hard thighs under the well-worn blue jeans. So much male beauty. But he’s a client. “Are you comfortable?” she asked, positioning the light where she needed it.

He nodded. “I’m good.”

She’d already cleaned the skin, but now she applied an alcohol prep pad to the area. Because of the existing tattoo, she knew exactly where the new piece had to go, but she still brought out the mirror and showed him what she was going to do. Judging by the amount of work he’d had done, he knew it was going to hurt, so she didn’t bother stating the obvious.

“If it gets too uncomfortable at any point, raise your right hand. I’ll stop immediately.”

“I understand.” Those green eyes closed in a show of trust. Isla took a deep breath, steadying herself. The next instant, everything around her disappeared, leaving just her and the design in her mind, ready to be transferred to the canvas.

The proportions of the piece he’d drawn were right, but there was one part, where the new tattoo would meet the old, where she was going to have to figure out how to link them together. She loved it—the challenge, the thrill of doing something truly new. She kept her wrist straight, letting her elbow act as a hinge to ensure the outline was sharp.

Ry didn’t move a muscle throughout the process. Even his breathing remained steady as he pulled the air in through his nose and out of his mouth at a regular rate. Only the tightening of his sharp jaw hinted at the discomfort he must be feeling. But then, she’d expected him to be stoic.

When the outline was finished, she stopped and stretched out her arm, stepping back to admire the clean, crisp lines.

“You okay to keep going?” She could easily stop here and fill it in another day. A part of her hoped he’d say yes. It’d give her another excuse to see him again.

You don’t want to see him again .

“Sure,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble.

No, she definitely didn’t want to see him again. It was trouble she didn’t need. She had to keep her priorities straight. Things were finally working for her, and she wasn’t about to mess it up by falling for another bad boy.

Even an uber sexy one .

“Isla’s an interesting name,” he said conversationally. Clearly unbothered by the pain. Isla nodded, her focus on her work. She’d told the story behind her name so many times, she could tell it in thirty seconds flat. Though her parents both grew up in Belgium, a short bus ride away from each other, it took a trip to Mallorca to get them to meet and fall in love. And even though Isla had been conceived years later, back in Brussels, her mother still thought of that trip as the start of everything.

“Ah. Isla … as in, Island,” Ry said. “I like it.”

Isla allowed herself a small smile. She liked it, too. She’d always liked having a different name. Even if people didn’t always know how to say it.

When the work was all done, she stepped back and looked at her work critically. A sense of accomplishment filled her. She looked at the tight, sharp lines, at the depth they conveyed, and felt she’d done the piece justice. She wondered if he would let her take a picture for her wall.

Her heart sped up as she grabbed the small mirror she kept nearby. “Take a look,” she began, her words coming out fast. She didn’t want to examine why it was suddenly so important that he loved it as much as she did. “It’s looking red right now, but that will disappear in a few days. I’ll leave you some aftercare tips so you can take care of it.”

“I know the deal. Thank you.” He grabbed the mirror and positioned it so he could see his chest. He stared at it for the longest instant, his expression blank. Concern grew, settling in the pit of her stomach as she waited for him to speak. Say something. Anything.

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer, his hand moved to trace the air over her design. “Wow.”

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to interpret his tone. Good wow? Bad wow?

“Just wow.” His eyes turned away from the mirror and held her gaze. From up close, his green eyes glowed. “What you’ve done here is incredible.”

Isla’s heart fluttered inside her. He likes it. “You brought me a beautiful design.”

He shrugged, those thick shoulder muscles bunching beautifully. She wished she could draw that movement. “What you’ve done with these lines, it’s just … there’s so much depth here.”

That was her favorite part of most tattoos as well. Most people didn’t realize just how much depth you could get just by playing with the thickness of the lines. But of course, somebody who could draw the way he could, would know.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, unable to keep the pleasure from her voice. “Would it be okay if I take a picture? Your face won’t show, of course.” Though, looking at the way the piece wrapped around his well-defined pecs, she knew she’d always remember who it belonged to.

“Sure,” he said easily. She used to have a camera, but now her phone took better pictures, so she hadn’t even bothered packing it when she’d moved to Chamonix. It was still somewhere in her old studio apartment, with Roland, her ex-husband, and Juliette, her former friend. “Everything okay?”

“I’ve got it. It’s looking great.” She clicked the button a few times, zooming in for a close-up. “Thank you. I’ll wrap it for now. You can remove the bandage when you get home and apply some of this ointment. I’ll step outside so you can get dressed.”

He was outside in less than a minute, his wallet already in his hand. “I love your work, Ms. Bernard. Thank you.”

“Isla,” she said automatically, smiling inside. She printed the invoice for her services, stapling a page with aftercare tips.

“Thank you, Isla.” He paid and began to turn away, then hesitated.

“Any doubts? Anything else I can help with?” Isla pointed to the aftercare tips she’d printed out. “You can always reach me at this number if you have any concerns while it heals.”

Ry’s mouth curved up in a sexy, confident smile, those spectacular green eyes crinkling as the smile reached his eyes. “No doubts. But I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

Dinner … or anything else , his expression seemed to say.

Isla’s heart sped up. Oh, but she was tempted. Forget dinner. They could go straight upstairs, where she could feast on that spectacular body. Maybe grab some whipped cream and … She shook herself forcefully out of the fantasy. No. No way.

Ry waited patiently, his smile in place. As if he knew exactly how hot he was. As if he knew she was going to say yes.

“I don’t think so,” Isla said, forcing what she hoped was a polite smile. No more sabotaging herself. From now on, she was going to be smart.

“I’m not a client anymore,” he said, still smiling. Still confident. Still arrogant.

Isla almost smiled at that, more certain now that her answer had been the right one. She didn’t have time to waste with this kind of man, regardless of how hot he was. She couldn’t deal with the distraction. It wasn’t worth it. Next time she fell for someone, it was going to be more than just a romp in the sheets. Or else, she’d remain single forever. Single was good, too. She was finding she was good at being single. Even if her vibrator didn’t compare to?—

No. Not going there.

“Yeah. No, it’s not that. I’m just not interested.”

For an instant, he looked like she’d just kicked his puppy, but he recovered quickly. The smile dimmed, but didn’t turn unkind. She liked that about him. He seemed about to say something else, then thought better of it. “I understand.” He didn’t push, and she liked that, too. “Thank you for the tattoo.”

“You’re welcome.” It should have been a relief to close the door behind him, but instead she was left with a sense of loss bordering on loneliness, something she hadn’t felt in the longest time.