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Good thing he hadn’t, since now he was stuck going through the whole process of hiring again. Interviewing people was definitely not his thing. But unfortunately, he was stuck doing it. He didn’t trust Max to do it. His brother and partner would hire the first set of double D’s that walked through the door. Great for eye candy; not so great for accurate receivables.

So, if he wanted a front-end person who could add two plus two, he was stuck with the chore. And he had a couple interviews coming in today.

His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall. If this was his four o’clock, she was early. His eyes again flicked to the entrance. And then he did a double take.

Holy hotness.

Long dark hair, big eyes. Not too much eye makeup. Thick dark lashes and a bit of liner. Perfect olive skin. She slipped her coat off uncovering a slender, boyish frame, but with all the right curves. Low slung jeans that hugged her hips and revealed a teasing inch of skin between them and her tight top. Nice rack. Lots of necklaces, all different kinds that somehow worked together in a bohemian style that the artist in him loved. Beaded bracelets stacked up both wrists.

His eyes returned to the tattoo he was working on as Max moved to the counter to greet the woman.

Jameson kept one eye on the activity at the front counter, so he didn’t miss Max handing her an application on a clipboard. He also didn’t miss the look Max turned and gave him as she moved off to take a seat in their lobby to complete the application. With his back to the lobby, Max had mouthed the word ‘Wow’ to him, giving Jameson big eyes.

Jameson tried to hold back a grin, returning to his work.

And in that very first meeting, as he interviewed her, he could see that somewhere buried beneath the shell she’d built around herself was a girl with spunk and spirit. Perhaps it was his curiosity for what had caused her to become so reserved and reticent and careful that made him want to hire her, or perhaps it was the challenge she posed. He couldn’t help the desire that kindled inside him to want to be the one to free her from whatever pain or sorrow that had dimed that spirit.

She was an enigma, a mystery. And he saw the irony of it.

On the outside she was a paradigm of the perfect type to hire as a receptionist in a tattoo shop. The total rock-chick hard-ass, she had the look down pat. On the inside, somewhere buried under there was the perfect smart-ass personality to match. He’d bet the shop on it. The only problem was, the way she acted now was more the reserved, reticent school girl type…the ultimate example of who not to hire for such an outgoing position dealing with the types of clientele a typical tattoo shop like his dealt with.

If he’d listened to his better judgment, he’d have sent her packing. But something made him hesitate. Some glimmer shining deep in her eyes. Something that called to him, pleading silently, communicating on some non-verbal level that this might be her last chance, he might be her last chance. Some flicker deep in her soul that wanted to flame to life again, needed to flame to life again.

Jameson shook the memory free. He’d hired her that day. And he’d never been sorry. She kept the place spotless, she’d picked up the bookkeeping he’d taught her in a snap, and she was meticulous with running the front desk.

And as she relaxed into her position and began to feel more comfortable and at home, her spunky personality began to immerge little by little. And when it did, she had a wonderful way in dealing with customers. Her sparkling smile, he was sure, drew in many repeat customers. He was also sure one or two of his regulars were half in love with her.

And now that girl he’d worked so hard to rebuild, hell, they’d all worked so hard to rebuild, was right back in that dark place she’d been in when she’d first walked in the door. Apparently whatever had happened in Vegas, hadn’t stayed in Vegas. She’d brought all the baggage back with her. Something big had happened to her. Something powerful and damaging and damning.

Mother fucking hell.

Jameson unfolded his arms, straightened from the wall he was leaning against and turned to head down the back hall. He strode into the break-room in the back of the shop. Max was sitting at a table with his other two brothers, Rory and Liam, kicked back in a chair, drinking a beer.

Jameson’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Ten minutes past 8pm on a Tuesday night. They’d officially closed ten minutes ago, although Max had finished up with the last customer a half hour earlier, which was unusual for them. Usually they were here long after closing time, finishing up with customers. His brothers were obviously intending to take full advantage of the early night and had started in on the beer.

The four of them had worked hard to make a go of it with this shop, working long hours, day after day, and things were finally starting to pay off. Their reputation was finally starting to become known. Word of mouth was getting out about the shop started by four brothers, and the primo work they did.

Brothers Ink was finally gaining a reputation.

The four page spread in Inked Up Magazine that had come out last month hadn’t hurt either. It was an incredible break for them. One that Jameson fully understood and appreciated.

He moved to the fridge and pulled out a beer. Joining his brothers at the table, he spun a chair around backwards and sat on it. He twisted off the cap of his beer and with a snap of his fingers sent it sailing towards Rory’s face.

Rory ducked. “Brat.”

Jameson grinned and took a long pull off his beer.

“What’s the deal with Crystal? I thought going to Vegas was supposed to make you happy.” Max looked over at Jameson for an answer.

Jameson’s expression sobered as he leaned forward and rested his crossed arms on the backrest. He shook his head. “I don’t know. Something happened.”

“No shit. She’s back to being that same girl that walked in the place months ago.” Liam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

Jameson nodded. “Yeah.”

“She say anything?” Max asked him.

“No, but I’m going to have a word with her. See if she’ll open up.”


Tags: Nicole James Evil Dead MC Erotic