Page 78 of Single Girl in the City
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Happy Things:
Naked Twister
Mother Nature was showing off. The spring night was crisp and welcoming, with a gentle breeze that rustled the maple trees lining the street. The fresh scent of wet pavement and cherry blossom filled the air and the warm sensation of Owen’s hand in hers made the evening all the more special.
They’d just come from a romantic dinner at what was becoming their favorite Indian place. Even the idea that they had a favorite anything was enough to make her belly zing. Though it had only been five days, to Abi it felt as if they’d known each other for five years.
They’d spent their nights in tangled sheets and their mornings talking on the patio while sharing one of Owen’s delicious breakfasts as the sun came up.
He would go to work at Stout and Abi would do her shift at the tea shop. They’d sneak away for a midday lunch, which usually involved tearing each other’s clothes off. They’d both end their day at six and then make dinner together, where Owen cooked while Abi sat on the counter drinking wine and distracting him. Sometimes with her hands, other times with her mouth.
What started as a completely physical agreement had turned into so much more. At least on Abi’s side. She had zero clues as to where his head was at. She knew he felt something for her, something that went beyond their time in bed, she just wasn’t sure if it was enough to carry them through the looming deadline.
“Where are we?” she asked, looking up at the dark storefront. The historic, brick-fronted building was sandwiched between two brownstones and had a massive red-trimmed door with a half-circle glass panel above that took up the majority of the entry. Located a few blocks from Stout, it had the same upscale modern feel as the rest of the neighborhood, with high-end boutiques and dining below, and residential on the upper floors.
To the right sat a community park with an open, lush green space, a giant dogwood tree in full bloom and a small pond that reflected the silver moon above. The setting was as romantic as Owen was nervous. She could tell by the way he tightened his hands around hers that he was battling uncertainty. So she gave him a little reassuring squeeze.
He looked down at her and smiled, his eyes soft and warm.
“You brought me into your world, I wanted to bring you into mine,” he said.
Owen took out a set of keys and unlocked the door, guiding her inside and flicking on the overhead track lighting. The space was masculine and luxe, with the original small checkered-tile floors and modern slate walls with a patina ceiling of copper tile. Lining the side of the room were three tattooing chairs with frosted glass accordion doors separating each station.
“Is this where you used to work?” she asked.
“It’s where I currently work.”
“Currently work?” As in he’d been tattooing again? As in the last good deed Abi had on her Owen list. A complicated mix of excitement and devastation rushed through her. Excitement for Owen and his new venture. Devastation because it was a reminder that her time was really up.
“I haven’t spent much time here, just a couple of hours last week, but it was more than I’ve been here in months and it felt good.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but she knew it was.
“Which one is your station?”
“Up here.” He led her to a curved staircase that was made of hammered steel and dark wood. The upstairs was just as stunning. Modern and masculine with bold lines and a variety of textures. In the corner sat a black chair that she knew was Owen’s.
“I’m really happy for you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him. He kissed her back until she was a big ball of goo. “You know, your dad would have been proud of you.”
He didn’t respond but he didn’t need to. The emotion was there in his eyes.
“I want to show you something. And before you ask, no, it’s not in my pants,” he said. She knew he was downplaying the moment, trying to make what was a huge deal into a passing conversation.
She laced their fingers and walked them the rest of the way to his station. On the counter was an open portfolio. “May I?”
He nodded and she flipped through the book, stunned at the detail and quality of his designs. “These are amazing. Are they originals?” she asked even though she didn’t need to, she knew he’d painstakingly designed each and every one.
“Most of them are from when I used to tattoo in Austin, but there are a few new ones.”
“Show me.”
He came up behind her and turned the pages to the back of the album. There sat a piece of contact paper with a single design on it. She could tell that his nerves had him second-guessing showing it to her.
“This is my most recent one. It’s still not completely finished, and I’m open to changes and, well, this is it.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s beautiful.” It was more than that. It was stunning. “What is this?”
His gaze locked on. “It’s you.”
