Page 9 of Time for Change

Garreth pokes his head out of Walker’s office before saying, “We were just talking about you.”

My heartbeat reaches stroke level, and I have to remind myself to act natural and breathe.

“Stevie, this is Jameson Tankersley.”

The large man steps inside the room and practically steals all of the oxygen. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and ink peeking out of the top of his shirt and on his hands, but it’s his eyes that catch my attention. They’re intense. Probably the most penetrating set of eyes I’ve ever encountered. “Hey.” He doesn’t extend his hand like the others did, so I don’t offer mine.

“Hello,” I reply somehow, even though my throat is so dry I worry I might not be able to properly draw oxygen into my lungs.

He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me. It takes every ounce of courage I have not to shrink down or flinch under his stare. It’s not scary, per se, but it’s definitely deep, as if he’s instantly reading my thoughts. It’s a little unnerving, if I’m being honest, mostly because I pray he can’t read what’s running through my head right now.

“You don’t see Jameson too much, since he works at the brewery next door, but he does grace us with his presence every now and again,” Isaac says, a smile on his face.

“When he wants food,” Jasper grumbles, leaning back in his chair.

Jameson doesn’t say a word, just kicks his foot out and connects with the front leg of the chair Jasper is sitting in, causing it to tip. Isaac and Garreth both reach out and grab the arms of the chair before it can crash to the ground, taking Jasper down with it.

“Fucker,” he grumbles, righting his chair with all four feet back on the ground.

My eyes are wide as I watch their interaction, and I’m on the verge of laughing.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you to not lean back in your chair?” Walker asks, grinning from ear to ear.

“She taught me to be careful who I’m friends with,” Jasper retorts, narrowing his eyes.

“My mom taught me manners, which apparently none of you have. We have a guest, remember?” Garreth chides, shaking his head at their antics.

“Mine taught me how to raise my sister at an early age and hownotto parent.”

Oxygen halts in my throat as I slowly look to my right. My eyes connect with a pair of whiskey-brown eyes that make me want to weep with joy and run screaming from the room at the same time. But it’s not just the harshness in the words he just spoke or the hardness in his eyes, it’s the fact his childhood appears to be very similar to my own, and I don’t know what to do about that connection.

Garreth sighs and says, “All right, yahoos, time to stop embarrassing yourselves in front of Stevie.” He turns his attention to me. “We’re all happy to have you here. If you have any questions or need anything, you can ask any of us.”

“Thank you,” I mutter, even though I feel like my lips barely move. “I’ll get back to work and leave you to it.”

Before I turn to walk out, I glance up at those intense eyes once more. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment at this point in my life, but I just feel drawn to him. A connection, if you will, and I can’t help but want to know more about him. Something tells me there’s way more layers than just the ones he shows the world. He’s been hurt and tries to hide the scars.

I know a little bit about that too…

Just as I pass through the doorway, the faintest smile curls the corner of his mouth. It’s weird how comforting that tiny little tick of his lip makes me feel, but it does, nonetheless. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t feel so scared and alone anymore. Maybe I’ll finally have the guts to do what I came to Stewart Grove to do without fear.

Doubtful.

But it’s a nice thought.

***

I pull my cell phone out of my small bag and set it on my kitchen counter to charge. My feet are a little sore, but all in all, today was a great day. I made decent tips, splitting everything I collected with Marla, despite her trying to give me all of the money for the second half of my shift when I was really doing well on my own. That’s not how it works though, and until I’ve completed my training, I’ll be sharing every cent I receive with the person who helps train me.

There’s one more task I’d like to complete today, and it has me a little nervous. More nervous than going to work for my first day. However, before I can make the phone call, I need to change my clothes. Slipping into my bedroom, I throw on an oversized crewneck sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. I go ahead and change my socks too from the comfortable cotton ones to a pair of fluffy ones. I even dillydally in the washroom for a few minutes, refixing my ponytail and going to the bathroom.

Finally, unless I want to get into one of the household chores I hate doing, like dishes and dusting, I have nothing else to delay this call. I had looked up the number back when I researched the town, so it’s easy to find in my contacts. My finger hovers over the screen, and I take a deep, calming breath before tapping. After two rings, the call connects.

“Xpress Urself, this is Amanda. How may I help you?”

“Umm, hi, this is Stevie. I was hoping to make an appointment for a tattoo with BJ.”

“Okay, what kind of piece are you thinking?”

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