Page 2 of Innocent

“Well, I better get back to my client,” Huck says, backing away. “Good to see ya, kid. I’ll catch up with you again before the night’s over.”

Kid.

I contemplate stomping my foot on the ground, crossing my arms, and pouting out a lip while screaming,I’m not a kid, but that might not prove the point I’m going for. So instead, I roll my stiff neck in a circle and plop down at the reception desk, staring at the blue buzzing screen while I catch my breath and try to rationalize the very simple, meaningless exchange we’ve just had.

It was nothing. Just a hello. He thinks I’m a kid… because I am to him. That’s normal.I tell myself these truths, then stare back at the computer screen, trying to look busy.

The air in the shop is cool, and the music drowns out any conversations going on around me. I can’t believe I have to come back here tomorrow. I’m an embarrassment to myself! Of course, I’m a child to him. What did I expect? Did I really think he was going to sweep me up and tell me he’d been in love with me for years?

That’s insane.

I’minsane.

The worst part is, I’m still the same kid I was at seventeen. In the same town, still working at the library, still playing video games, still reading raunchy romance, still wishing on some broken star that I’ll fall in love and get my happily ever after.

I bury my head in my hands and suck in a hard, heavy breath. There’s no way I’m coming back here tomorrow.

Chapter Two

Huck

Floorboards creak as I roll my stool to the side and work the opposite corner of the eagle I’ve been trying to finish. It’s a black ink piece that has an elaborate wing design and hundreds of detailed strokes. I used to loathe the details, but now I look forward to them. The nuances in art have made me notice the subtitles in life. Small things I may have never noticed before. Like the lines in someone’s face, or the way a blade of grass leans, or the way a raindrop slides off a windowsill, leaving a streak of moisture behind it.

I ink another dark line down the feather contour of the bird and glance up at Janie sitting behind the counter on her phone. With her, I’d need to stare for years to soak in every detail. The way her hair falls in soft curls. The way her lip wrinkles just above the bow. The way her nose crinkles when she’s happy or nervous. The beauty mark that sits on her right breast at the top of her cleavage line. I could stare forever and never soak her all in. Nor should I. The fact that I’m attracted to her at all is fucking sick. It was when she was eighteen, and it still is now that she’s twenty-four.

I’m such a fucking asshole. What kind of a guy lusts after his son's best friend? A best friend, I’m pretty sure he had feelings for at one point. What kind of man wants a woman twenty years younger than him? What kind of man thinks about that woman for years and years and years, despite the obvious reality that they could never be?

I clear my throat and stare back down at the wing I’m supposed to be working, desperately trying to push away every gross old man feeling I’m having, but the more I push it away, the more it wants in. Like the scent of mold on the soil after a heavy rain… it’s both intoxicating and revolting. I’m desperate to escape it, yet eager to take one more breath.

I suck in a tight gasp and focus down on the fine detail of the underwing, dotting in texture as I try again to scrape Janie from my mind, but it’s useless. It always has been, and seeing her face only makes it that much worse. That pretty mouth, and those blue eyes.Fuck.It’s been too long since I’ve seen her in the flesh and every old emotion I had has come flooding right back.

I’ve consistently wondered what it would be like to head to the library and sit in her presence for only an hour, hoping to give myself a chance at peace from my screaming desires. But I fear it would end with me carrying her back to my place over my shoulder and that wouldn’t do much good for anyone… but me.

“Hey, man.” My client twists toward me. “I think I’m going to call it for tonight. Can we set up to finish in a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

He grins and sits up from the stretched-out table. “That’s a rough spot. I wasn’t expecting the pain. If my wife asks, though, you had to cut the session short due to some emergency. Okay?”

I nod. “You got it. We’ll settle up when you come back in.” Usually I don’t do things like this, but paying would mean going to the front desk where Janie is and I’m not sure I could take the heart attack right now. I need to stay to myself, clean my station, draw out the tattoo I have tomorrow night, and ignore every feeling creeping under my fucking skin.

“Huck…” I’m turned toward my station when the haunting sound of her voice slinks through me, threatening my evolution as a man.

I twist toward her, taking in the soft scent of citrus on her skin, keeping my eyes firmly planted on hers, trying not to notice the way her body has filled out. She’s gorgeous. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Oh,” she twists her mouth to the side, “sorry to bother you, but that guy didn’t pay, and I didn’t know if it was my responsibility to stop him. So…”

The way she hangs off the word has me suddenly awake and buzzing with energy. I need to be closer. I need to find a way to touch her again. I need to sweep my hand across her back or touch her face. I need to hold her hand in mine or feel the weight of her hips against my body.

Fuck, I need help.

“No. Don’t worry about that guy. He’s an old friend. He’s good for it. How’s your first night going? A lot of calls?” What am I even asking?

She smiles coyly and turns her head up from the floor, drawing her stare around the room. “Nope, nothing. I’ve been keeping myself busy with this profile online.” She pauses, as though she’s caught herself saying too much. “I guess I should be doing something productive, though. Do you guys need anything cleaned, or… what does Mark usually do between calls and clients?”

“You’re doing it,” I say, flinging my glance between her and the ink bottles lined at the back of my counter. I don’t dare stare too long for fear of fucking up everyone’s lives right here and now. “What kind of profile are you making? Not dating, I hope. Those websites are awful. I joined one a few years back and lasted less than twenty-four hours.”

She grins. “Yeah, I don’t see you as the online dating type. I see you as a,found the love of my life while fishing type.” Giggles bubble up from her throat and she covers her lips with her index finger to keep from laughing uncontrollably. “Anyway, mine isn’t a dating profile. I’m selling something.”