She might as well start now.
“What kind of feathers do you want?” She studied his shoulder and the raised flesh that spoke of a history she knew he held close to his chest. She might know how he got that particular injury, but she didn’t know everything.
“Owl feathers,” he answered as he looked over his shoulder. “Not muddy brown or anything; a hunter’s feathers.”
She met his gaze and smiled. “I think that will look perfect. Do you want to cover the scar? Or go around it? With the way it’s raised, I can most likely do a tattoo over it, rather than around it. If it were any larger, it might be an issue like burned skin is, but this is a scar we can work with.” She was rambling now, and she didn’t know why.
He met her gaze and her breath caught. Oh, that’s why.
“Can you make it so the feathers go with it? Covering it but not hiding it?”
She studied his shoulder, her fingers grazing along the sides of the scar that had nearly taken his life. He might not have said as much, but the situation that had led to the wound had put him in danger, that was for sure.
“I can do that,” she said. “Depending on how big you want the feathers, it’s going to take longer than just a session today. So why don’t I trace you and work on the sketch and then do another session where I can actually do the tattoo.”
He smiled at her then, and her breath caught, her pulse doing a little dance she couldn’t quite name. Silly heart, it needed to stop doing that.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said after a moment. “What time are you off?”
She licked her lips. “You’re my last appointment, actually.” She could stay for walkins if she chose, but she didn’t have to.
“Then let’s go to your place and finish up the sketching,” he said after a moment. “I’d like to see your place, Maya.”
She nodded, her hands shaking. Her hands didn’t shake, damn it. But, apparently, Jake and Border made her body do things she couldn’t control. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Border put his shirt back on while Maya gathered her things. They did it in silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. Instead, it was a quiet filled with promise. She knew the others in the shop had an idea of what she and Border would be doing once she took him to her place, but she ignored the smirks and wiggling brows. She’d done the same to them when they’d left with their significant others for an afternoon of…rest and relaxation. She didn’t have any room to talk.
Border followed her home in his big truck since there was still snow on the ground. She’d have liked to see him on his bike since she loved riding. She wasn’t a fan of having her own bike as she tended to want to watch the scenery and enjoy the air, rather than having to focus on the road, but the fact that Jake and Border had bikes made her happy. Maybe when it got warmer they could go for a ride together, just the three of them.
She blinked as she made her way into her home, annoyed with herself for thinking long-term. She needed to live in the now and revel in what she had because if she didn’t, she’d only be hurt in the end.
Border followed her into her apartment and set his phone and things on the table near the door. She did the same with her sketchbook and purse, nerves suddenly taking over. It had never been just her and Border before, would they have sex? Or maybe just talk? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that whatever happened today would change things. She just hoped that the change would be for the better, rather than breaking everything before it had truly started.
“How long have you had the shop?” Border asked as he sank down onto her couch.
She let out a breath, relieved that Border was taking point. The fact that she was so ready to give up control spoke volumes about the kind of man Border was and how she felt around him.
“Since before I met Jake, actually.” She smiled as she sat down next to him. Border put his arm around her, along the back of the couch, and she turned so she faced him. “Well, only a few months before I met Jake, but long enough. At first, it was just Austin and me, with our cousin Shep coming in to help when he wasn’t in New Orleans working.”
“Your cousin is a tattoo artist?” Border traced patterns on the thigh of her jeans with his fingers, and she had to take deep breaths to stay calm. This man could probably make her come just by looking at her the right way, and she needed to remain somewhat in control. Or at least do a better job pretending.