Old Ink (Get Ink'd Book 3) - Ali Lyda

Channing

I was totally being professional. I definitely wasn't sneaking looks at Reagan's office. No blush stained my cheeks when he crossed into the parlor and threw a smile in my direction. I was a one hundred percent bona fide master of discretion.

Mateo strolled up to the desk just before lunch, leaning on it. He was staring at me as if trying to decipher some answer to a question I didn't know was being asked.

"Um, what's up, Mateo?" I asked, swiveling on my stool to face him.

His eyes narrowed. "When are you going to make a move? Anytime soon?"

My heart skipped a beat for a second, but I recovered quickly. Maybe I hadn't been as discreet as I'd thought. Then again, it hadn't been a secret here years ago that I'd had a huge crush on Reagan. But I wasn't going to start talking about what had happened. It had taken every ounce of courage to send the picture text. But how could I not? Reagan's kiss was a guaranteed aphrodisiac. Just thinking about it made me horny as hell. It had been everything my mind had built a kiss with him up to be and more.

I shrugged and looked at him like he was crazy. "You're hot, Mateo, I'll give you that. But I'm just not into you that way."

Based on the laughter roaring from everyone in the shop, we'd been the prime entertainment. Mateo smirked knowingly. "Well played, Channing. Well played. But I'll get my answer one way or—"

"Oh, leave the kid alone," Dane said. Mateo grumbled but he did get off my desk.

"I'm a kid still?" I asked Dane sharply.

He sighed, large and exaggerated. "Fine," he huffed. "Leave the very grown and most adulty adult alone."

"That's better," I responded, feeling snide. "Leave the adult alone, he has work to do."

I swiveled back pointedly, looking at the schedule on the computer instead of all the curious eyes glued to my back. I threw myself into work, trying to ignore the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades as all of my coworkers stared. God, these goofballs needed some lessons in subtlety.

The mornings at Get Ink'd are usually slow—no clients, just setting up for the day, reviewing art for clients or making new flash, and me on the phone, making appointments and guiding people through the first steps of getting a tattoo. However, knowing that my coworkers were more focused on me than on anything else meant I did a deep dive looking for tasks to do so I could look extra busy, and soon it was lunchtime.

In my former job as shop assistant, it had been my duty to place an order for lunch for everyone. Now I was a receptionist, and the new assistant—a kid burning time before his first year of college—was the one keeping everyone fed. So when a plate was put on my desk, I turned, expecting to see Dan's cheerful, optimistic face. Instead, it was Reagan.

He was so big there, standing in front of me, that for a moment he became...well, he became my world. Like his mass created a gravity I couldn't resist getting swallowed up in. He was smiling at me, the sunlight from the front windows catching the silver in his beard and making it seem to sparkle. The red halo of his hair begged for fingers to run through it, and his blue eyes were so gorgeous it was almost hard to breathe. It seemed monumentally unfair that he could be this beautiful.

"Take a break," Reagan said smoothly, flashing me a quick smirk and then turning to retreat to his office. I watched him go, admiring the view from the back almost as much as I enjoyed the view from the front.

So of course that was when Dane said in a sing-song voice, "I'm winning."

Mateo, Javi, and Bryce all groaned, and my skin itched at the comment, but I wasn't about to ask. Sometimes you just don't want to know with these guys. Instead, I smiled and pulled my personally delivered lunch—tofu bahn mi with extra jalapenos—toward me, digging in and letting my mind loose with fantasies involving Reagan. Things like breakfast in bed together, or drinking coffee and reading magazines together in the mornings. Other fantasies, too, that were spicier than my sandwich.