Page 101 of Business Casual
“I’m not being weird,” I grumble. I’m being cautious. I spent the first twenty minutes of this party staring at Nova while she worked at her station, her head bent in concentration, tattoo pen in her gloved hand. I’ve never seen her work before. She’s doodled on napkins and on the tops of pizza boxes. Flowers and vines and constellations that I can recognize now as part of her style. But I’ve never seen her like this. She’s fully in tune with what she’s doing, dedicated to the careful, delicate work of inking designs. She’s moving to a soundtrack that only she can hear, loose lines and smooth, graceful movements. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, her face a mask of concentration.
I’m captivated.
She has a sign-up sheet for clients at the very front of the shop next to one of the giant mirrors. For all my teasing, I haven’t put my name on it yet. I don’t know if I can handle her hands on me in a room with this many people.
Also, I still haven’t figured out what I want.
A common theme, I’m finding.
“I’m just taking it all in,” I tell Caleb.
Specifically, the guy Nova has in her chair right now. It’s the same guy from out front, the one she was talking to when I walked up. He’s leaning into her space, dark blond hair combed back. They haven’t stopped talking since he sat down, and I can’t stop sneaking looks.They look good together. Well suited. That’s probably the kind of guy she usually goes for.
I bet he’s absolute shit at doing his taxes.
“Who is that guy?” I ask Caleb, curling my hand tighter around my mocktail. Nova isn’t serving alcohol at this event for obvious reasons, but god, I wish she were. “The one Nova is talking to.”
What in the hell are they discussing? She has a line, for god’s sake. A schedule to keep. One per customer. It says that clearly on the bottom of the sign-up sheet.
“I have no idea, but you might want to try looking somewhere else for a couple of minutes. You don’t have a subtle bone in your body,” Caleb answers, tossing the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “I didn’t know you wanted a tattoo that bad,” he mumbles to himself.
I blink away from the two of them. “And you lack restraint. Don’t you get enough of Layla’s cookies at home?”
He’s already looking longingly at the table in the back where Layla has set up refreshments. “I never get enough of Layla’s cookies.”
I make a face. “Don’t be gross.”
A furious blush climbs his cheeks as he scowls at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant her actual cookies.”
“Sure you did.”
“As in her baked goods.”
“I’m sure her baked goods are very nice.”
Caleb gives me a long look. “I will punch you right in the face.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I reply, eyes tripping right back to Nova and the schmuck in her chair like a goddam magnet. She laughs at something he says, and I want to flip a table. I want to take the tattoo pen resting comfortably in her hand and scratch out whatever design she gave him. I don’t want him walking around with a permanent mark from her while all of mine will eventually fade. It doesn’t feel fair.
“You could put your name on her list, you know.”
“Nah.” I manage to tear my eyes away from Nova and glance at the place on my wrist that doesn’t have a watch. Another mark left byNova. Her fingerprints are all over me. Frustration tears at me. I can’t stand here anymore and watch all the things I want but can’t have. It’s a unique form of torture that I don’t particularly want to indulge in anymore. “I think I’m going to head out. I have some stuff to catch up on.”
Caleb frowns at me. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to stop by.”
His frown deepens. “She’ll wonder where you went.”
Will she? I don’t think so. She has a full house and plenty of things to hold her attention. I’ll take the night to shove everything back into place and get myself in line. Nova was perfectly clear when she told me what she wanted. I’m not going to twist myself outside of those boundaries. It’s not fair to either of us.
“I’ll say bye on my way out,” I concede. I can be a fucking gentleman despite the tight, anxious feeling swarming like bees in the middle of my chest. I blow out a deep breath. “Go get your cookies.”
Caleb claps my shoulder and shakes me. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Stop asking me that,” I sigh. “I’m fine.”
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…except I can’t stop thinking about a woman I have no business thinking about and I’m pretty sure I’m having feelings that can no longer be categorized as business casual. And isn’t that a fucking joke? To want another thing that is so far outside my reach it’s laughable.
