Page 14 of Wicked Design
“Condoms.” He slapped Van Gogh’s arm. “K-Y, too, just in case. Don’t let her see it, though, until she’s too far gone to care how prepared you are.”
Van Gogh stopped Tor from opening the door. “I’m not sure why she asked me. One second we were discussing a tat she wanted to get. In the next, she’s telling me we can talk about the design at dinner, at her place, and take the whole night to do so if necessary. What do you think?”
“Better bring six rubbers, at least. To be safe, make it an even dozen.”
Jesus.Getting a normal answer here was like pulling fucking teeth. “Will you get your mind out of the damn gutter? I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”
“Since when is sex anything but that?”
Van Gogh wanted to scream. “I’m asking if you think she invited me because she’s OCD about her tat or she’s using it as an excuse to be with me…like on a date. I don’t want to make an ass of myself if I misunderstood.” He pointed. “And don’t you dare suggest I ask her. That’s as bad as telling a woman how old you think she is or how much she weighs.”
“Agreed, but how should I know what Clover’s thinking? I’ve barely talked to her when she’s been here.”
“You’re good with women. They fall all over you. Lauren has to run interference when you ink in the window.”
Tor waved away the comment. “That’s stupid stuff.”
Spoken like a true Adonis who had no idea how lesser guys lived. As an artist, Van Gogh recognized perfection. Tor’s Latin looks, athletic build, snug tank top, and jeans made him a shoo-in for an Armani fragrance ad. All he needed was water running down him to complete a female’s fantasy. “If Clover is interested, I don’t want to run her off. And I know I should have learned how to interact with women when I was in high school, but I’m not exactly a babe magnet. I could barely open my mouth to talk to her. The only time I relaxed was when we discussed my tats and art.”
“Then do that. The rest will come easily once you get to know each other and become friends. It’s not that complicated if you take the sex out.”
“Then I shouldn’t bring condoms?”
“What do you think?”
Van Gogh shoved back his hair.
Tor laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. It’s always wise to be prepared. You can’t count on her to do that for you.”
“You think?” He made a face. “I’m trying to get up to speed. I’m not twelve years old and clueless. Should I bring anything else besides rubbers and K-Y?”
“Only if you want to look like a dick or a stalker. The furthest you should go is booze. No flowers, candy, or presents. That’s for after your big night when you want to show her how you feel.” He punched Van Gogh’s shoulder lightly and opened the door. “I need to get to my client. Good luck with dinner. Don’t forget to have fun.”
Van Gogh would have sold his soul to loosen up and take things as they came. Wasn’t in his genetic makeup or history. In the past, he’d protected himself by always preparing for the worst—him losing out to other, more worthy humans, being laughed at or demeaned by them.
It had happened too many times for him to count.
For him to drop his mask at this late date, to be vulnerable, and to be himself was scarier than facing a loaded gun.
He ached to do the adult thing and ask Clover if her invite was about work or something more. The possibility of getting the wrong answer kept him focused on logistics. He left the parlor, ran to the drugstore for rubbers and lube, then returned, the junk he’d bought stuffed in his pockets, hidden from view.
Jasmina stared at him from the counter.
Lauren blew out a breath. “You came back.”
“Yeah, my shift’s not over.” He glanced around and panicked. “Is Clover in the break room or john?”
“Why?” Lauren frowned. “You’re not planning to talk to her, are you?”
At what sounded like an accusation, he stepped back. “I was simply asking. She’s not on either sofa out here waiting for me like she said she would.”
“I told her to use my office. You’ll see her as soon as we close.”
Fully nude and grinning like him. He hoped. Wait. “How’d you know we’d be leaving together?”
Lauren paled.
Jasmina gestured to her computer. “She didn’t book you yet for a tat. We guessed you’d be discussing designs after hours.”
