Chapter 3

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Artwork brought me peace.

Which was why I enjoyed being a tattoo artist so much.

The skin was my canvas, the machine my brush and everything ceased to exists in that moment, everything except the masterpiece I was creating.

"I can hardly feel a thing," Ella mused, as my pen pulsed over the intricate dream catcher design across her side. "You have an angel's touch."

"So I've been told." I replied, with a laugh.

My regulars swore by my hands, saying they'd never had a tattoo done that didn't hurt except when done by me. I thought most of them were full of shit but it was flattering.

"All done, Ella. Keep this baby dry and let it breathe." I said while shutting off my instruments and disposing of my gloves.

"Thanks, Aimee. You're a doll. Really, you're so fucking cute." Ella gushed as she stood. She strode to the mirror and admired her naked hip. "How are you still single?"

"Because I'm a bitch." I told her.

She threw her blonde head back and laughed as she finished slipping on her sweater dress. "Well you're a damn good tattoo artist. I've told all my friends about you."

"Thanks, Ella." I replied, already leading her to the front of the shop. "So, I'll see you next time?"

Ella flipped her hair back. "Oh, you know me so well. I'll be back in three months. I was thinking for my next piece we could..."

Her words mushed into background noise just as the front door bell dinged and a man with black, wind-swept hair walked through.

Christian.

Today he was wearing a white t-shirt which hugged his clearly muscular chest in all the goddamn right places and dark wash jeans. There was a pair of sunglasses on his eyes seeing as Oregon was having a rare burst of sunlight.

He looked up, shooting me a Colgate smile. My eyes traveled down to his arm where he clutched a small, purple laundry basket.

"Aimee?"

"Uh, yeah." I said, turning back to Ella. "Cammy will ring you up."

When she was gone, I strode up to the counter and placed my hands flat on the glass surface.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Are you stalking me?"

An easy-going smile crept onto his lips. "You forgot these the other night. You know, when you climbed out the window to avoid our lovely family dinner?"

Fighting a blush, I examined the basket of laundry he set on the counter.

Yup, definitely was mine.

"Your mom asked me to drop them off to you on my way into town."

"Thanks." I said, snatching the basket and pushing it under the counter.

"Oh, wait, I forgot these. They fell in the back of my car." From his pocket he pulled out a lacy red thong.

Horrified, I yanked it from his hand.

"Lace underwear huh." He said with a grin. Casually, he leaned one elbow against the counter which brought him slightly closer to me.

"What about it?"

"Just didn't peg you for a lace underwear type of girl."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What kind of underwear did you except, Mr. Underwear expert?"

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