Page 16 of Patchwork
Onyx curls his fingers around it, his smile growing wider and a look of wonder dancing in his eyes.
“I get my own key to your house? This feels like a big step, sweetness.”
Heat creeps up my neck and I duck away from his gaze before he can catch me blushing. “I don’t want you to end up locked out while I’m at work.”
“Well, I appreciate it. I’ll see you at four.”
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to close the car door instead of climbing back in to kiss him a little longer. I wave as he pulls out and then gather my patience and head inside Ink Slingers.
Music is blaring loud enough to rattle my eardrums, but for once, it’s not “Dance the Night Away” assaulting me as I step through the door. Instead, it’s some poppy song about a zombie apocalypse. But clearly Jag is still to blame because he’s singing along at the top of his lungs and shaking his ass.
I head straight for the speaker to turn it down a few thousand decibels.
“Hey,” he squawks, spinning around to glare at me.
“Dude, you don’t need to listen to every song you love at max volume.” I rub my ears for emphasis. “And what happened? Is Dua Lipa canceled or something? You haven’t listened to anything else in, like, a year.”
“New hyperfixation song has entered the chat.” He shrugs.
“Would it be too much to ask for you to pick a less irritating hyperfixation song?” Arrow asks with a look of pleading in his eyes. I’m sure he’s already going to get an earful from his man when he gets home about how loud Jag is playing his music again.
“I don’t pick the hyperfixation songs. Take it up with the brain gremlins.” The song ends and starts all over again, and Jag goes right back to singing along with it.
I chuckle and head up to my station. Maybe they were too distracted by Jag’s antics to notice Onyx dropping me off. That’ll at least give me until the afternoon to decide what I want to tell them.
“That beat up old Mustang wasn’t Onyx’s, was it?” A knowing smile flickers on Tex’s face.
Fuck me, Jag can’t even create a proper diversion with his bright green leopard pants and brain gremlins.
“Uh, yeah,” I say casually, I hope.
“Did he swing through town for a little stick and poke?” Jag waggles his eyebrows.
“Be more crass, dude.” Arrow shakes his head.
“What? I meant a tattoo. We all saw the article where he was singing Hero’s praises as his exclusive tattoo artist.”
I didn’t get the chance to properly clean up my station last night, so I turn my attention to that before my first appointment is due in, my stomach twisting into anxious knots while I work out what exactly to say.
“Is he already on his way out of town again?” Tex asks a lot more conversationally than Jag.
“Actually…” I rub the back of my neck, glad for the distraction of cleaning rather than standing around with all of them staring at me while we talk about this. “He’s planning to hang around for a little while this time.”
“Kick-ass,” Piston says immediately. “How long?”
“I don’t know, a few weeks. Maybe a little longer.” I shrug.
“Aw, platonic sleepover,” Jag says sarcastically.
“Is it really that important to you that I confirm that we’re fucking?” I finally turn and raise an eyebrow at him. “Fine, yes, Onyx and I arespecialfriends. Can we drop it now?”
“Yes, it was important to me, and thank you.” Jag smirks. “For the record, I think he’s an awesome dude and you should definitely lock him down.”
I snort a laugh. “It’s not that serious. I think he’s looking for a quiet vacation during a break between tours and stuff, so he’s here. No big deal.”
There, that should be convincing enough to keep them off my back when Onyx leaves again, right? The bell above the door jingles, signaling the arrival of a client and, blessedly, the end of the conversation.
ONYX
