Page 10 of Awaken My Heart

“I love the Hunger Games,” I say. The longer I stay here staring at his spectacular tattoo and the furred expanse of his belly, the more likely it is that I’m gonna say something really dumb.

“Gosh, it was nice to meet everyone. Lovely to see your work, Ian. Cleary, I’d love to have lunch sometime if you have space in your schedule.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “I should go though. Have a lot of work to do.” I hold up Anita’s book. “And a book to devour. Mostly likely in a bubble bath with a glass of wine.”

Oh my gosh, stop talking.

chapter

seven

Bram

I watch her disappear through the doorway to the front of the shop, Cleary in tow. The women exchange words I can’t decipher from where we are, then the bell above the door rings and Cleary comes back to Ian’s station. She’s all smiles as she looks down at her phone.

My skin still burns from where Emma touched me. It’s more noticeable than the prick of the tattoo gun Ian’s using to finish up this addition.

“So, you gonna explain what that was?” Ian asks.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, fucker, I’ve known you too long for that.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. That was part of the problem with small towns, everyone was always all up in your business.

“It’s nothing. She’s Taylor’s theatre teacher and I’m helping to build the sets for the musical.”

Ian laughs. “How’s that going?”

I grunt when he hits a particularly tender spot over my ribs. “Technically we haven’t started. She’s coming out to my workshop tomorrow after school.”

Ian stares at me for a minute, not even bothering to hide his obnoxious grin. “Good luck with that.”

I frown. “What does that even mean?”

“Sugar baby,” Ian says, speaking to his wife. “Wanna help me out on this?”

Cleary looks up from where she’s been furiously typing on her phone. “Let’s put it this way,” she says. “I’ve been stuck on a problem with my current manuscript and watching the sparks fly between the two of you gave me the best idea to up the sexual tension in my book.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

“Seriously, Bram, the chemistry flowing between the two of you was stupid hot. Palpable. Combustible.”

“Told you,” Ian mutters.

I say nothing else while Ian finishes the tat then reminds me of the aftercare procedures as if I haven’t been in his chair at least once a month over the last several years.

The entire ordeal with Emma replays in my mind as I drive home. She knows my big secret now. Not that it’s something worth hiding. I just don’t broadcast around town that my chest is covered in ink. You can’t see even a hint of it when I’m dressed. And I certainly don’t parade around town without wearing a shirt.

Palpable, Cleary had said. And combustible. I’d be a damned liar if I said I didn’t feel it. But I sure as fuck can’t act on it. Doesn’t matter that Emma is the first woman I’ve looked twice at since my Lisa died.

I’ve seen the way Emma looks at me. The way her cinnamon-colored eyes darkened as she stared at my bared chest was the single most erotic thing I’ve witnessed in years. So I’m pretty sure the attraction is mutual. Meaning I could do it. I could break my vow of celibacy and I could fuck her.

But I’m not that guy. I’ll have to be content to fuck my fist, which I’ve already been doing at an alarming rate since I first met the voluptuous brunette.

chapter

eight

Bram