Protecting His Home Page 2

  Let me tell you something, Beckett Banks is the number one person on my want list of who to get tattooed by. I’ve followed him and his shop on social media since I moved here three years ago. He’s so incredibly talented.

  I’d love to give him carte blanche on my body and not just in terms of a tattoo. That man is gorgeous with an OMG thrown in. Tall with muscles for days and dark hair. Then there are his eyes which are so fucking green I’d almost think they were contacts if it wasn’t so obvious that this man won the looks lottery.

  He’s probably a dick though, right? He can’t have the talent, the looks and be a genuinely nice guy, can he? All I know for sure is that his smile, well the ones I’ve seen in his pictures, make me feel warm and cozy. Like home or the holidays. It makes me hope that he’s not a total dick.

  I’ve noticed a change in his social media in the last year or so. He used to post about going out and got tagged in pictures with random girls hanging all over him. That kind of shit stopped and now his social media is mostly about his art. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but I can’t ignore the little twinge of jealousy at the thought that he’s found a girl to call his and that’s what prompted the change.

  I’d love a guy in my life, but I’m not about to date a customer or an employee and I hate, hate the idea of being picked up in a bar. Not to mention, I may have a few insecurities that I’m still wrestling with from my last relationship. That’s why I needed a change of scenery. I got all wrapped up in a guy during college and then it all fell apart. We were fighting and he hit my shoulder with the receiver of his desk phone. It hurt like a bitch and the bruise was huge.

  That may have been the first time he hit me, but it certainly wasn’t the first time he was abusive. He put me down constantly and I was too blinded by his good looks and charm in the beginning to see his underhanded jabs for what they were. It took a toll on my self-esteem, to say the least.

  After the phone incident, I just didn’t feel safe. He was put on academic probation, but that was it. I knew he was furious for even receiving that slap on the wrist. I ended up dropping out halfway through my senior year because I couldn’t concentrate and was always looking over my shoulder. That’s no way to live so I went back to my parent’s house for a little while and started working in retail management. That led me to here.

  I’m in a much better place now than I was 4 years ago, but sometimes I can still hear the negative comments about my body, about what I eat, and what I wear in the back of my head. It’s always Caleb’s voice. It shouldn’t still haunt me, but here we are. The cannabis helps with that, I’m not going to lie. It helps clear my head and vanquish those demons, if only for a little while.

  Oh, and let me clarify, I may work at a dispensary, but we have a strict sobriety policy while on shift so it’s not like I’m baked all day. See, you can be a responsible member of society and still get high. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, no matter what D.A.R.E. would have you believe.

  Andrea and I pull up and park on the street a few doors down from Banks Ink. and my palms are sweating. I shouldn’t be nervous, he’s just a guy. An extremely talented and sexy godlike guy, but still just a guy. Andrea looks like she’s about to puke so I focus back on my friend and put aside my odd and totally inappropriate crush that wouldn’t even have the hope of going anywhere anyway.

  I squeeze Andrea’s hand and give her my brightest smile, “You’ve been talking about getting a tattoo for ages and while I get being nervous, you really have nothing to worry about. Beckett is so fucking talented and the pain is manageable.”

  Andrea smiles at me and takes a few deep breaths. “I know, it’ll be great, I’m just not a huge fan of needles.” She wags her eyebrows at me, “Have you been stalking Beckett on social media again?”

  I blush because I so have, but I try and cover it with a shrug as we get out of the car. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She comes around the car and we start walking toward his shop, the one of my dreams. “Let’s get me inked and let’s get you your man.”

  I can’t help it; I laugh because that is so ridiculous. Beckett as my man? Yeah, in my fucking dreams. There’s no way that a guy like him could be interested in a girl like me. I don’t like to party, even though it seems like Beckett hasn’t been doing much of that lately. I like to crochet, which shouldn’t sway a man either way, but I don’t know a single guy who thinks crochet is exactly sexy. If your grandma does it, it can’t be sexy. I like to read, not that I’m assuming he doesn’t, but it just speaks to my ‘I’d rather be home’ attitude.

  I’m not trying to stereotype him, but I do need to keep my expectations somewhere in the realm of reality. Caleb was a pretty attractive guy, not as smokin’ as Beckett, but still. He was charming, kind and before the berating started, he told me how amazing he thought I was. I know it’s not fair to compare every guy to Caleb, but I will not put myself in a position to get hurt again, not physically and not emotionally.

  We step into Banks Ink. and I stop in my tracks because this space is fucking perfect. I’ve walked into tattoo shops before and felt uncomfortable, like I’m wallowing in the seedy underbelly of a city. That’s not the case here.

  The waiting area is warm and welcoming. Every artist in the shop has their own section on the walls and all the flash is amazing. You can tell which styles people feel most comfortable doing and they do it so fucking well. Still, you can see glimpses of where they’ve pushed themselves out of their comfort zone and I love that. That’s what art is about right? Pushing.

  The walls are covered in reclaimed wood and it looks less like a tattoo shop and more like a home. The furniture isn’t leather and minimalist with forced ‘style’, it’s oversized and looks comfortable as hell. I could drape a throw over my legs and curl up with a book in the corner and not look out of place on this couch. The reception desk has a wood top with a live edge and I’m pretty sure I swoon.

  When Andrea bumps me with her hip, I realize my eyes are practically bugging out of my head and my jaw might as well be on the floor. “Calm your tits, girl.” I take a measured breath as she takes another look around. She concedes, “It is pretty nice in here though.”

  I take another deep breath and reign myself in. “Yeah, it’s okay.” She gives me a look that clearly says ‘really?’ and that makes me laugh and roll my eyes. “Fine. I think this is the nicest, most welcoming tattoo shop that I’ve ever stepped foot in.”

  A tall man with blonde hair walks to the reception desk, a man who is most definitely not Beckett, but who is still sex on a stick. He drawls, “We aim to please at Banks Ink..” He winks at me and I try, really try, not to blush. I fail miserably. Is every artist in this shop smokin’ hot because if so, I think I might move in. Eye candy is not something to turn your nose up at.

  Blondie gives a little wave and a panty-dropping smile, “I’m Troy, how can we help you ladies today?”

  Oh, he’s trouble, I can tell already. He’s a total ladies’ man. Not that I blame those ladies or him, if that’s what you’re into I say go for it.

  Andrea steps toward the desk while I step back and turn around to look at the flash on the walls. “I’m here to see Beckett, I have an appointment. Oh! I’m Andrea. That’s my BFF and emotional support for the day, Amelia.”

  I glance over my shoulder to smile and catch Troy checking out my ass which makes me grin and blush at the same time. I could get used to this kind of attention. I won’t, but I could.

  Troy flashes his grin at me again and rubs his hands together while his gaze travels up and down my body. “You’re not getting inked today Amelia?”

  I shake my head, “Not today. Andrea lucked out with her appointment. I’m just here for support.”

  Troy arches an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, assessing me. “Do you have any tattoos, Doll?”

  I turn and arch an eyebrow at his term of endearment but decide to brush it off, he’s a flirt and that’s okay wit
h me even though he’s barking up the wrong tree. I give him my most innocent smile, “What do you think?”

  Troy rakes his gaze over my body again, “Hmmm.”

  I laugh and turn back toward the artwork on the walls, “Okay, Superman, you can’t actually undress me with your eyes to see if there’s any hidden underneath my clothes. Why don’t you just let me know when you’ve figured it out.” I glance over my shoulder and smile at him.

  He chuckles, “Oh, you’re sassy. We like that around here.”

  I shake my head and gesture toward the walls, “Which section is yours?”

  He gives me a smirk and gestures toward a section with a focus of traditional American style flash. “I’m right over there.”

  I turn to check out his art. “You’re really talented at what you do.”

  “But not your style?” He asks and I shake my head without turning around. “Okay, Doll, which section would you choose from?”

  I turn back to Troy and that’s when I notice Beckett standing behind him and he’s looking at me, but his face is totally unreadable. I’m not sure when it happened, but I must have died because he’s even hotter in person. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt with his shop logo across the chest. How a simple t-shirt looks so good on him, I have no idea. Most of his tattooed arms are on display and I would give almost anything for the chance to lick every single tattoo he has.

  After blinking three times, I default instantly to my retail persona, who is not necessarily who I am in real life, but that persona isn’t afraid to talk to people. I give a little smile and point over to the section I’ve already figured out is Beckett’s because I’m familiar with his work. It’s beautiful, varied and full of color. It just pops, you know?

  Troy chuckles, “Ah, you like Banks’ work, huh, Doll?” I smile in response and I see Beckett narrow his eyes slightly and scowl. I don’t know what that means, but it makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight. “Too bad you’re not the one getting inked today then.”

  I just shrug, I mean, what can I say? I’d love to have Beckett’s hands on me.

  That’s when Beckett steps up next to Troy and puts his hand on his shoulder and Troy winces. Strange. “Thanks man, I got it from here.”

  I walk back to the counter, where Andrea is leaning and loop my arm into hers. Andrea gives me a wan smile, so I give her arm a little squeeze and say brightly, “Get excited, girl!” Okay, maybe a little too brightly.

  Andrea chuckles and shakes her head, but at least she doesn’t call me on being overenthusiastic. Beckett eyes me for a moment and then turns toward Andrea and reaches out a hand.

  “Hey Andrea, good to see you again. How’s Steve doing?”

  Andrea smiles and shakes his hand, “Yeah, you too. He’s doing great. He planned to come with me today, but something came up at work.” She rolls her eyes and gives me a little hip check, “There was no way Amelia was going to miss coming with me though.”

  I blush, there are so many implications to that statement. Beckett eyes me again, but he must have the best poker face in the history of poker faces because I can’t read him at all. His look is distant and a little cold which makes me a little sad.

  What do I do when I’m not sure how to deal with a situation? I overcompensate.

  “That’s what friends are for,” I chirp. I’m pretty sure I just winced at my own fucking voice, damn it. I’ve never been great around someone I’m attracted to, but this is a new low even for me.

  Beckett’s eyebrows shoot up and Troy glances between me and Beckett and chuckles. Troy nods at Andrea and says, “Stop by my station on your way out, I’d love to see what you get.”

  “For sure,” Andrea says while eyeing me out of the corner of her eye. I give her a big smile, but it feels fake as hell. I’m dying inside from embarrassment.

  Troy tips his imaginary hat me and gives me a wide grin, “If you decide you like my style, Doll, I’d be happy to put my ink on you. Anytime.”

  He wags his eyebrows at me, and I laugh. Damn it. But how could I not? He’s fun. “Okay, Superman, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Beckett scowls again and I cock my head to the side looking at him. Is this just the kind of dick he is? He couldn’t be attracted to me or jealous, could he? No way, there’s probably a no dating clients rule or something and Troy is skating on the line. Not that I’m a client anyway, I’m just support.

  Beckett nods his head toward the back, “Let’s head back.”

  We nod and follow behind him. As we walk through the shop, I can’t help but check out how everyone has personalized their station space with their own style and art. I could spend hours here and still find new things to look at. It’s obvious to me which space is Beckett’s. Ugh, he’s so fucking talented.

  He surprises me and leads us beyond his space into a back room that has a couch along with the normal tattoo chair set up. He motions to the couch and both Andrea and I take a seat. He sits on his rolling stool and wheels himself closer to us.

  They talk about what tattoo Andrea wants and I tune out a little bit since she and I have already talked about what she wants extensively. She wants three swallows that evolve from simple shapes to a realistic bird. It sounds really cool and it’s right up Beckett’s ally. When she told me her idea, I knew that he would be able to make it into an awesome reality.

  I spend my time checking out the room around me. The walls are covered in Beckett’s art, mostly on canvas, and it’s like I stepped into my favorite art museum. Does he sell his paintings? What medium does he prefer? Do the pictures in his head keep him up at night?

  I can hardly contain my excitement at being in his space. I catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye from time to time, but he still has a mask of neutrality on his face. It’s starting to unnerve me.

  They talk about size and placement before Beckett eyes Andrea. There’s no interest in his gaze, just professionalism. He rubs his jaw and nods his head slowly.

  “Okay, ladies, I’m going to draw this up, if you want to go around the corner and grab a coffee it’ll take me about 20 minutes. Andrea if you haven’t eaten recently, I recommend getting a snack or something.”

  Andrea nods and we both stand up. She heads out the door, but before I leave the room I turn back to Beckett and give him a bright smile. God, I hope it doesn’t come off fake, but it probably does because I’m usually a really shy person.

  “Is there something we can get you from the coffee shop? Have you had the chance to have lunch today?”

  He looks taken aback by my question at first and then he furrows his brows. He grunts, “No, I’m good.”

  Oooooookay, I was just trying to be nice. I shrug, “Suit yourself.” I probably say that too brightly too, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  I meet Andrea back in the reception area and Troy is leaning up against the desk chatting with her about what she’s getting today. He does that guy chin lift thing at me. I smile warmly.

  Andrea arches an eyebrow at me, “Troy is going to take a coffee break with us.”

  “Awesome, the more the merrier. Does anyone else need anything? We can bring it back. I asked Beckett, but he grunted at me so…” I trail off and shrug. “I’m a big believer in fueling artists.”

  Troy smiles wide, but I realize that while the attention is nice, he doesn’t do much for me where Mr. Grumpy Pants sets my butterflies off like nothing before. “That’s really sweet that you asked him. I’ll bring back some coffees for everyone. We go there at least once a day, so I know what they like.”

  Troy pulls the door open for us and I try to sound unaffected, “Cool.”

  As we’re walking around the corner Troy gives me a lopsided grin, “You should know that Banks isn’t usually like that. He’s not usually so…aloof and cold. I don’t know what’s going on with him today.”

  I shrug, “It’s cool, it’s none of my business anyway. Aren’t artists supposed to be broody and moody?”

  Tr
oy opens the door to the coffee shop, but before I walk through the door, he touches my shoulder and stops me. “No, I think it might be exactly your business.” He looks so serious, so I just nod as we head inside and get in line.

  “Okay, Superman, if you say so.” I make sure I keep my tone light; I have no idea what he’s getting at and I’m not sure that I want to know after spending even 15 minutes in the company of Beckett.

  Troy chuckles. “I’m serious. He’s changed in the last year. I think he’s looking for something real. He needs it. He’s been burned by women in the past, but I think he misses that connection. We can hardly get him to go out with us anymore and blow off steam. He’s not really the brooding artist, yeah there’s some darkness there, but I wouldn’t say he’s moody. In our shop that would be more Zeke’s MO.”

  Andrea’s in front of us and she’s up next to order so I turn toward Troy fully and eye him suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? I’m no one. I’m not even a client.”

  Troy shrugs, “I’m not sure but Banks has never squeezed my shoulder like he did today when I’ve been talking to a beautiful woman before.” I can’t help the blush, damn it. He bumps his shoulder against mine, quite the feat since he’s probably a foot taller than me. “And you’re wrong about something, you’re not no one. Anyone who looks at you for more than a second can see it. You’re something special Amelia.”

  I smile and this time I can tell it’s a real one, Troy can too because his eyes light up and he grins back at me. “Thanks, Superman, that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

  Troy cocks his head to the side slightly, his eyes boring right through me before he asks quietly, “Who hurt you, Doll?”

  I blanche and shake my head. I’m not answering that question. I take the opportunity of being up to place my order and take a step away from Troy. Before I can pay for mine Troy steps up, places an order for himself and the shop. He pays for all our drinks and adds in a pastry for Andrea.