“Fascinating, like an exotic animal at the zoo fascinating?”
“No. Not like that at all.” His gaze dips a little, to my baggy shirt that leaves everything to the imagination. Working in a place like this, it’s smarter to keep at least somewhat covered up. I want business because of my talent, not my boobs. Plus, it creeps me out to have guys like Bobby ogling me.
But a guy like Sebastian . . .
This back room has suddenly grown hot. I thought that talking would make these hours manageable. I’m not so sure now. “Get back on your side,” I demand.
His eyes linger on me for another moment before reassuming his position with a smile, allowing me to finish tracing the outline of my design on his body while reading too much into his words. “You’re obviously capable of obligating yourself when you want to.”
“Why do you say that?”
I pause to run my gloved fingertip over the man that hangs on his shoulder blade. “Don’t all you guys live for God and country and family?” I haven’t pushed with questions about his time serving overseas, though I’m dying to. I could easily slap a quid pro quo on him for his earlier interrogation about my choice to become a tattoo artist. I’ll bide my time, though, and slip in casual questions and comments to help me figure him out.
He doesn’t answer. I take it as a sign that that topic is still not okay.
“How old are you?” Something I’d know if I had him fill out his paperwork.
“Twenty-eight. Why?”
“Just trying to figure you out,” I say, throwing his words back at him.
I see no ring, no tanned outline of a ring that’s been taken off. Does he have kids? Does he want kids? Has my not wanting kids already turned him off?
And why the fuck am I even thinking about any of this? Ned’s death has obviously screwed with me more than I realized, making me think about my future more than I ever have before. I’m basically a homeowner, and I didn’t ask for that. I could be running this shop, and I didn’t ask for that either. And now I have to make decisions, and I’m afraid that they’ll be the wrong ones. That little voice in the back of my head is warning me that if I walk away from Black Rabbit, I will have regrets.
“I’m not a soldier anymore,” Sebastian says, cutting into my thoughts. “Now I’m a lot like you.”
Like me? I frown. “In what way?”
“I don’t want to bring children into this world. I’ve seen too much violence to be able to sleep at night.” There’s tension beneath my fingertips, something I haven’t felt from him until now. But it slips away just as easily, as if he’s aware of it and can choose to control it. “And I have yet to find a woman who holds my interest for more than a few hours.”
Most women would balk at hearing that.
I smile. “Until now, of course.”
He doesn’t answer. But he’s smiling, too.
HOUR FOUR
“What do your parents think of your chosen profession?”
“They think I’m going to be broke and homeless in my forties, that I can’t possibly have a lifelong career doing this. So I guess that means they don’t approve.”
“And what about the tattoos and the shaved head and streaks of blue?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought I was fierce, stunning, captivating,” I tease, though inside there’s a hint of panic. What if he was just leading me on before?
“You are all those things. You’re also not my daughter.”
Thank God for that. “Fair point,” I mutter under my breath.
“What made you come back to San Francisco?”