Wallflower Ink

Chapter 2

· Jace ·

"She wants you to do what now?" Kyle Parker shoots me an incredulous look over the green felted table, his pool cue going slack, the shot he'd been lining up all but forgotten.

"I thought I'd heard her wrong," I admit before lifting my beer to my mouth and taking a deep swallow from it. I shake my head and lower the bottle. "Waltzed right in and asked me to set up a temporary parlor in her house. Said money wasn't an object. Her exact words. She wasn't even interested in looking at my portfolio."

The Celtic beauty, with the soft round face, long fiery hair, and piercing green eyes had asked that of me. It wasn't a dream, or even a nightmare, it was real. It had happened, and I'm still just as stunned three days later as my friend seems to be at hearing about the encounter for the first time.

That had all happened on Monday. This is Thursday, and I still feel the same way my friend looks right now.

"So what did you tell her? You gonna do it?" he asks, his tone nearly as wary as I feel.

I think about that for a long moment. What am I going to do? Every sane bone in my body is screaming NO!, but I have to admit her offer intrigues me. She'd caught me at a bad time for any kind of rational thought, and the possibility has wriggled its way into my brain, like some kind of parasite I can't expel.

I'd been in a bad mood about the no-show, and that--coupled with my thoughts of the mortgage, loan interest, and looming deadlines--have given me reason to consider. If her offer is legitimate, I might be willing to bend the rules, just this once.

Of course, that all depends on the job, the terms, and the feasibility of the whole damned thing. We haven't really discussed all that in depth yet, so I can't honestly answer Kyle's question.

"Not gonna lie to you, I'm thinking about it. But I won't be able to make a decision until we talk it over."

"And when is that gonna happen?"

"She asked me to meet her at O'Claire's on Saturday. She wants to discuss it over dinner."

"You're about the luckiest bastard I've ever met in my life. You know that, right?" Kyle's blue eyes sparkle with wicked amusement. "This sounds like the beginning of one helluva dirty joke. 'A red-head walks into a tattoo parlor ...'"

"Dude, shut up! It's nothing like that."

I try to wilt my friend with a blistering gaze, but Kyle's good humor is infectious and quick to twist my frown into an amused grin. The other man waggles his eyebrows then bursts out laughing.

"Could be just like that," he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You said she's hot, right? And I don't know man, she sounds kinda desperate to me. You sure she's not inviting you over to poke more than her skin?"

"Do you ever hear yourself? How in the hell Katie puts up with you I'll never understand."

I laugh as I watch my friend bend back over the pool table and take his shot. As the nine ball rolls down the rail and tips over the edge into the awaiting corner pocket, Kyle's eyes meet mine again. He breaks into a smile.

"She puts up with me because I'm so damned likeable. And it doesn't hurt that I'm always right."

"Even when you're wrong?"

"Especially when I'm wrong." Kyle grins back then lifts his gaze. "Speak of the devil, and who should appear?"

He nods toward the door and I follow his gaze. Katie is making her way toward us, her dark hair pulled back, exposing her strong jaw and dark eyes. She is the spitting image of me, only in miniature, with softer angles and a prettier voice.