Page 2 of Finding Our Tomorrow
“For now.” I laugh. Celeste recently found out she’s pregnant and they’re expecting twins. Nobody knows the sexes yet.
A little while later, my client shows up. She’s a twenty-five-year-old breast cancer survivor and gets a pink ribbon with a quote down the side of her ribcage. By the time I finish and clean up, it’s just after eight o’clock.
Gage, a tattooist who works here, and Evan, who answers the phones while apprenticing with us, stop by to let me know they’re leaving for the night.
When I unplug my phone from the dock and switch off my music, I hear the soft sound of pop music playing somewhere. Willow must still be here. She’s the only one of us who listens to that girly shit.
Walking down the hall, I check her workstation, but it’s empty. I follow the music, until I find where it’s coming from. The bathroom.
As I raise my fist to knock on the door, her voice rises several octaves as she sings completely out of tune with the singer. The horrible sound has me laughing out loud.
“Hey, Beyoncé.” I bang on the door. “I think you’re late for your performance.”
I’m still laughing when the door swings open and Willow steps out, dressed in a pair of skintight dark blue jeans with more holes up and down her legs than there is material, and a blood red shirt that covers her tits, but exposes her entire midriff, showing off her pierced belly button. Her black hair is straight and bits of hot pink peak out from underneath.
She’s only been working here for a short time, but I’ve never seen her dressed in anything but our business shirts, which cover her completely, and regular jeans or shorts.
“Like what you see?” She winks dramatically. My eyes meet hers, and I can’t help but stare at the gorgeous woman in front of me. Her face is usually free of makeup, and she always looks pretty, but with whatever she’s done to her eyes and lips, she looks fucking hot as hell. And older. That’s the problem. The makeup and clothes make her look older.
“Playing dress up?” I joke, trying to play off how attracted I suddenly am to her.
“Funny.” She rolls her eyes. “Can you do me a favor and button the back of my top?” She turns around and lifts her silky hair, exposing her slim neck and artfully tattooed back. I step toward her and quickly button the couple of buttons she couldn’t reach, making sure not to touch her in any way.
“Thanks.” She turns back around, hitting me with a bright smile. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
She sits on the couch and grabs the tallest pair of black fuck-me heels I’ve ever seen, slipping each one onto her slender feet. Jesus, I need to stop eye-fucking her. She’s ten years younger than me and I’m her boss.
“Jax?” she prompts. Shit, she asked me a question.
“Umm… just going to watch Netflix.” I flinch as the words come out. Can I sound any more like a loser?
She laughs. “It’s Friday night and you’re a single guy. Netflix is for teenagers who need an excuse to make out, or old people who have nothing better to do with their time.”
“I am old,” I say dryly, which causes her to laugh harder.
“What are you, like thirty-five? That’s hardly old.” She sets her foot down and stands.
“Thirty-seven,” I correct her. “And I’ve done my fair share of partying. I guess I’m just over that scene.”
“Have you ever been to Flora’s?” She steps towards me, so close I can smell her perfume. It’s sweet and soft. Delicate.
“Jax.” She smirks, knowing I’m all caught up in how she looks and smells. “Flora’s?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Never heard of it.”
“Come with me tonight.”
“Ehh…”
“Come on.” She smacks my bicep playfully. “You’re too young to be home on a Friday night… or any night for that matter. Life’s too short.” She hits me with her pearly-white smile. “Please.”
I don’t think it would matter what she’s asking me for. Dressed like that, smelling like that, smiling like that. I would say yes to anything she asks.
“Sure. I think I have an extra shirt in the office.”
CHAPTER THREE
JAX
