Walker laughs. "She is unfazed. I love it."
Ryan and Brendon share a knowing look.
Brendon shrugs what are you gonna do?
Ryan's brow furrows. He's working something out, but I'm not sure what it is.
"Is your ego okay?" Walker asks.
Dean makes a show of shaking his head. He leans forward. Wraps his arm around his stomach like his guts are falling out. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it this time." He stumbles forward. Then backward.
"You two fight a lot," Emma says. "I was only here one day and I saw it. You sure you want to deal with him?"
"I have to," I say. "His hideous nature makes it so much easier to concentrate."
"I can't… the shame." Dean reaches for an invisible weapon. Holds it in front of his stomach.
He drops to his knees and falls on the sword.
Then he falls flat on his face.
Rolls over. Lets out a death rattle.
His limbs go limp. Really limp. Like he's actually dead.
Walker shakes his head. "Was that it?"
Dean continues to play possum.
Walker looks to Ryan and Brendon. "I'm gonna get coffee. You want to come?"
Ryan nods.
Walker looks back to Dean. "Gym at five?"
Dean continues playing dead.
"I'll take that as a yes." Walker shakes his head ridiculous.
He and Ryan make their way out the door.
"He commits." Brendon steps over Dean on his way back to the suite. "I'll give him that much."
"He does," I say.
"Good luck." He moves into his suite. "Let me know if you need any help."
"Thanks." It's just me and Dean now.
Well, and Emma.
She studies me knowingly. Nods to Dean. Mouths you like him.
I bite my lip.
Her eyes go wide. She mouths you do!
Is it really that obvious?
She laughs. "He's dead. Let's check his pockets. You do it, Chloe. See if there's anything good."
"Sure." I play his game. Drop to my knees next to him. My fingers brush the waist of his jeans. Over his hip bone. Lower.
Fuck, my hands are close to where they need to be.
I drag my fingers a little lower. Brush the top of his pocket. Slide my fingers into it.
He's so warm and hard.
And— Fuck.
His fingers curl around my wrist. "If you get any closer I'm gonna be hard."
"Oh." My cheeks flame. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He sits up. Looks to Emma. She's watching us with wide eyes. "You angling for a threesome, Em?"
"Ew," she says. "What's in the wallet for that kind of defensiveness?"
"If I wanted you to know, I wouldn't be defensive," he says.
"Or maybe you have a thing for Chloe getting you on the ground. Did you have a Xena Warrior Princess fantasy growing up?" she asks.
He looks to me. "What do you say? You go as Xena for Halloween. I'll go as Hercules."
"I'm good."
He shrugs. "I tried." He looks to Em. "How about you?"
She shakes her head.
"Got your eye on someone else?" he asks.
"Maybe." She clears her throat. Nods to Brendon, currently sketching in his suite, between clients.
"You need some help? I can make it happen. Take you to his hang out spot. Make him jealous." Dean releases my wrist. In one swift motion, he jumps to his feet.
He's not flirting with her. He's genuinely offering help.
It's weird. But sweet too.
"No. I'm good." She turns to the computer. "You have an hour until your next appointment."
"I know," he says.
I rise to my feet. "I should get lunch."
"No." He motions come here. "I have something for you to do."
"Oh."
"I need your hands on my banana."
Chapter Sixteen
Dean
Chloe's shoulders drop from her ears as I pull a banana from my backpack. "This is fruit."
"What were you expecting?"
Her gaze goes right to my crotch. Her cheeks flush, but her eyes stay put.
After a long moment of staring, she shakes it off. "Whatever could I have been expecting? It's not as if you phrased that sentence to give me the wrong idea."
"Wrong idea? You sure you're thinking about me?"
"Pretty sure." Her dark eyes fill with fire. She folds her arms. Taps her combat boot against the ground.
"Come on." I motion for her to follow me. "No food in the main room. We have to do this in the office."
"Oh. Sure." She follows me into the office.
Brendon and Emma are the only people here. There's no need to close the door. If anything, it's a bad idea. It's an invitation. For her and for my body.
Being in this tiny space with her is hard enough with the door open.
I'm not doing anything that will ruin shit.
I'm not touching her. Period.
But caution isn't my strong suit.
I close the door. Motion to the chair. "Sit."
She does.
I place the banana on the table. Reach into the desk drawer. This is what she's been waiting for. This is everything she wants.
I set the tattoo gun in front of her.
Her eyes go wide. "You mean—"
"Yeah."
"Now?"
I nod.
She picks up the gun. Wraps her fingers around it with reverence. She's in some trance. One that doesn't involve me.
A gasp falls off her lips as she turns the thing on.
It buzzes against her hand.
She stares. Mesmerized.
Chloe is hard to impress. This is a rare look for her. But it's fucking intoxicating. I want more of it. I want all of it. I want to fill her with wonder and joy.
How the fuck do people deal with this? It's a head trip.
I focus on the shit I do understand. "Pick up the banana."
She does.
"Try the first one freehand."
She nods.
"What are you gonna do?"
"A star."
"Practicing for me?"
"Uh-huh." She nods, but the words aren't making it to her brain.
Her gaze fixes on the banana. She sets it on the table. Brings the gun to its flesh.
She gasps as the needle hits the peel.
"It's not quite like skin. But it's similar," I say.
She nods. Stares intently as she drags the needle up to a point, then down from it.
It takes her a minute to draw all five points.
She turns the gun off.
Sets it on the table.
Looks up at me with all the wonder in the world. "I really did that."
"How was it?"
"Awesome." She stares at the banana. Just stops herself from tracing the ink.
It's a good first attempt. The lines are messy, the symmetry is lacking, but the shape is there.
"Do five more," I say.
"On this banana?"
I nod.
Her eyes meet mine. "Are you going to stand there?"
"I dunno. Am I your teacher?"
"Oh. I just mean…" She nods to the chair on the other side of the desk. "You could sit."
"Sure." I grab the chair. Roll it next to her. Sit. But it's no good. She's too close. I can smell her floral shampoo. And the lavender scent of her soap. And beneath that, something all Chloe.
Her dark eyes fill with focus as she picks up the gun. She still gasps when she turns it on, but it's softer. Like she's getting used to it.
She draws another freehand star. It's better, but it's still not there.
I don't give her a chance to reflect. "Keep going."
She does.
It takes ten minutes, but she finally manages to do one star with straight lines.
The steady hum of the tattoo gun ceases as she sets it down. The air-conditioning whirs, drowning out the sound of her soft, steady breath.
Her fingers curl around the banana. "How did I do?"
"It's a good start."
"But?"
"You tell me."
She looks to the first star. "It's almost as ugly as mine was."
"Yours was—"
"Horrible. But I did love it. At the time."
"Why?"
"Why was it horrible?"
"Why did you love it?"
"It was my first real rebellion. My parents were confused by the combat boots and the dark eyeliner, but they didn't really care. I got perfect grades. I did volunteer work. Made varsity swim team. I did everything I was supposed to do."
"I get that."
"When did you ever follow the rules?"
"Believe it or not, my parents adore me."
"Probably true. Everything falls into your lap."
That isn't true. But I don't bother correcting her. Chloe has some idea of me. I can't blame her for it. I'm the one who made sure she saw me a certain way.
"These are kinda lopsided."
"A stencil will fix a lot of that."
She nods.
"But so will holding the gun right."
"Oh."