Chapter 8

Sophie

I suck in a lungful of air to erase Lincoln's sexy cedar scent from my lungs as I leave the office and head to the front desk.

He's my boss. He's my boss. He's my boss. I repeat the mantra, to remind myself of our relationship.

I don't know why I want to go with him to his appointment. I have a ton of stuff I need to do before work tomorrow. Maybe I shouldn't go; it's not like he was keen on the idea. His obvious rejection reminded me we're nothing more than work colleagues. We're not friends who hang out outside of work hours. I can catch up with Hope another time.

I shake off my confusion, paste on a smile, and greet the gentleman standing at the counter. When he tells me he's here for his appointment for his leg sleeve, I lead him to Linc's station, which is already prepared, and begin shaving his lower leg.

Linc meets us there and pulls Aaron into a familiar man hug, then turns to me. "Sophie, this is my best friend and roommate. Aaron, this is Sophie."

Aaron raises his eyebrows at Lincoln and turns to me with a wicked grin. "Great to meet you, Sophie." He thumbs over his shoulder. "Is this guy behaving?"

I chuckle, catching Linc's eyes over his friend's shoulder. "He's a great boss."

"Good to hear. You let me know if anything changes." He winks at me.

Linc pushes his shoulder,—"She won't need to. I'm a fucking exceptional boss."—then shoves him back into the chair and shows Aaron the final design for his tattoo while I complete my task. Once I'm finished, I clean up the mess and make myself scarce.

I need to keep my distance until I can work out why I feel the need to go to his appointment with him. My first thought is that I'm being a good friend. He doesn't know Hope, so it makes sense for me to be there.

When I dig deeper, I know I'm lying to myself. I have a lot of respect for Lincoln. He's wicked talented, and he's been patient as he teaches me the ins and outs of becoming a proficient tattoo artist. The more time I spend with him, the more my respect grows. But that's not the only thing that grows. I'm insanely attracted to the man. Where I once thought he was gruff and angry, he's actually sweet and caring. Every morning, he has a cup of coffee waiting for me at the front desk and he always makes sure I take my breaks. His sheer masculinity calls to my most feminine side, and his appeal becomes more potent every day as I spend more time with him.

Sometimes I sense the attraction goes both ways, which is surprising considering he made a big deal about how young I looked. I admit I don't know him outside of work, only that he fights, which is a red flag for me. I'm not sure I could bring him around James, but I quickly shake the thought out of my head because I'm getting ahead of myself.

I startle when a hand lands on my lower back and I spin around, whacking the person behind me with the dustpan, sending Aaron's leg hair everywhere. "Sorry." I drop to my knees to clean up the mess behind the reception desk, but Lincoln captures my elbow, stopping me.

"Completely my fault." His eyes catch on my mouth and pause there. See. When he does that, it seems like he's attracted to me. I drop my eyes to the center of his chest, tuck my loose hair behind my ear, and do my best not to lick my lips, which suddenly feel parched. He dips at the knees, catches my chin with his knuckle, and lifts my head so I have to look him in the eye. We're having a moment, right? It isn't my imagination. After a pause, he drops his hand and steps away from me. "Since you've already done the initial prep, would you like to position the stencil? I'll guide you through it to make sure it's lined up correctly. I've already asked Aaron, and he's okay with it."

My confusion is forgotten and my grin is instantly obnoxious. "Absolutely."

"Okay. Wash your hands and meet me at my station."

My hands shake with anticipation as I put on a fresh pair of gloves. I've done this on fake skin, but this is the first time on a real person and I want to get it just right. I want to make Lincoln proud of me, especially in front of his friend. I want to show him he didn't make a mistake when he hired me.

Linc asks Aaron to stand on the small platform he has on hand and passes the skin marker to me in my kneeled position. "Okay, look at Aaron's knee, and let's measure the central point." I do as he says and look up to him for confirmation before I mark the spot. A mistake on my part, because my eyes land directly on his crotch, which has an impressive bulge behind the zipper. I swallow and shift my eyes up to his face, hoping he didn't notice. "Yep, that looks good. Mark it." I do as he says. "Now use your fingers to feel your way down his shin until you get to his ankle. Where do you think the central point is?"

I concentrate hard, ensuring I maintain the line along his bone. "Here?"

"Yep. Good girl. Mark it." Tingles erupt across my body at his praise. Geez, girl, keep yourself in check.

He passes me the stencil. "See how I've already marked the center here at the top and bottom, line the points up, and let's see how it sits."

I do as he says, and he tells me to draw a mark across the stencil and onto Aaron's leg to make it easier to find the right position once we're ready to apply it. Linc passes the stencil stuff and I shake it like Ken taught me, then rub the white cream uniformly over the area for the tattoo. Once it's tacky to the touch, I realign the marks I made and press the stencil evenly onto Aaron's shin. I peel it off slowly and am happy to see the stencil pattern is perfect and exhale a long breath.

"You did a good job. Now we'll wait ten to fifteen minutes and I can start inking the design. Thanks, Soph."

I sit and observe Linc as he inks the geometric design to the front of Aaron's lower leg. This tattoo is being done in two sections because it's a sizable piece. I completely forget about my need to put distance between us and get lost in the mesmerizing strokes of Linc's gun.

"Soph?" I spin in my seat toward Ken.

"Yeah."

He tips his head toward the reception desk and the sound of the phone ringing. "You wanna get that?"

Flustered, I jump to my feet. "Yeah, sure."

I answer the call and tell the young woman that we have a three-month wait list which she isn't happy about, but I take her information and book an initial appointment for her. I know the guys are falling behind with taking new bookings because I'm still in training and a pang of guilt makes itself known in my gut. If Linc had hired the other applicant, he wouldn't have had to delay these appointments, but then I wouldn't be living my dream. Ken motions for me to come over to him, so I head in his direction.

"Everything okay?" I look at him in confusion. "The phone was ringing for a while and you didn't notice."

Shit! "Uh, yeah. Everything's okay. Sorry, I didn't hear the phone. I was so caught up watching Lincoln work I must have zoned out." Ken nods and returns to the back tattoo he's working on—a gorgeous angel wearing a bloodied cape and wielding a giant sword above her head with two hands. The expression on her face is fierce and I can feel her power emanating from the image. I decide to take a break from watching Lincoln and pull up the spare chair to watch Ken work for a while. "This is stunning work, Ken."

He grins but doesn't take his eyes off his work. "Thanks, doll."

* * *

I spin my fork around in my pasta and raise it to my mouth.

"We were going to stop by and say hello after school today, but I had a plot bunny I needed to get down on paper. It came to me as I was collecting James from the bus stop and I was worried I'd forget. Maybe we'll stop by another day."

The pasta goes down the wrong pipe and I choke—coughing and spluttering so much I can't catch my breath. James quickly jumps from his seat and pats my back while Dad pushes my glass of water closer—Shit! What if they'd turned up? My secret would be out and Dad would demand that I quit the most perfect job in the world—and I finally get myself under control to take a sip.

"You okay, sweetie?" Dad studies me like he's waiting for me to collapse.

I clear my throat and nod. "Yeah, the pasta went down the wrong pipe." I take a long drink and swallow. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to visit me at work yet. I haven't even been there a month and the boss can be grouchy about visitors during work hours." I have no idea if that's true.

Creases form between Dad's brows. "I hope he's not grouchy with you. You don't deserve that sort of treatment. Don't put up with that." He jabs his fork in my direction.

"I haven't given him a reason to be grumpy yet and I intend to keep it that way." I take another bite of my pasta and swallow. "I would appreciate it if you waited a little longer before you visit."

He nods. "Okay. We can do that, can't we, James?"

"Sure can." He pushes away from the table to take his empty plate to the sink. "Can we have ice cream tonight? I ate all of my dinner."

I smile at him. "Have you done all of your homework?" Since I get home at dinner time now, I have to check that he's doing what he should.

He nods his head like a bobble doll. "I have. I even did some extra math, didn't I, Grandad?"

Dad smiles, his gaze full of pride. "You sure did."

"All right. Once we clean up the dishes, I'll fix you an ice cream cone."

He cheers as he returns to the table and I tell them all about Jenna having her baby girl today.

"A baby is such a beautiful blessing. I'll say a prayer for them tonight before bed."

I smile softly. "That's very kind of you, Dad."

He's never wavered from his faith, even though he lost the love of his life and the use of his legs in a train wreck. From what I've researched about it, the accident was horrific. I was only two at the time; too young to remember Mom or the tragedy of losing her. Dad had a meeting across town with a prospective publisher, so we caught the train with plans to enjoy lunch afterward. During the ride home, a truck driver crossed the track, causing the train to derail. That day, five people, including Mom, lost their lives, and many others, including Dad, sustained severe injuries. I have a scar that runs from my breastbone to beneath my breasts, but no memory of the event. I only know of it from the few times Dad's spoken about it and news articles I've seen online.

Before I climb into bed, I grab my phone and text Lincoln the address of Beyond the Fringe. I think it's best if I keep my distance. No point making things harder for myself.