Page 67

Story: A Summer Thing

His question tears through me, ripping a cavity straight to my beating heart. I hadn’t stopped to think about it until now. But yeah, I guess he’s right.
I am happy.
And Declan has everything to do with it.
Chapter Twenty
Declan
The bell chimes above the door of the coffee shop I work at, and without having to look, I already know it’s Jude. Like a crackling of electricity humming in the air, a slip in the atmosphere robbing a fraction of oxygen from the room, a warmth brushing up my back and settling over me like sunshine hanging over a dark cloud, I feel his presence with a tangible difference in the space around me.
I always thought that idea was a load of crap. That you could be so in tune with someone you could feel their energy, their mood, their existence, even from thousands of miles away.
But here I am, making a liar of my thoughts. At least within the space of this coffee shop.
“Hey, Little D,” he greets, and the smile in his voice has my own lips ticking up at the corners, too.
I turn from the counter, where I’ve been taking muffins off a cooling pan and lining them on a tray to go inside our display case, and face him.
“Hey, Brooklyn.” My smile stretches wider. “You’re early. I still have fifteen minutes of my shift left,” I say as I look down at my watch.
He shrugs. “I wanted to beat the traffic, so I headed over early. I was just over at Elijah’s shop working on our next design.”
“The tattoo shop?” I ask. “You’re getting another tattoo?” My eyes rake over his exposed skin, nearly every inch of it covered. I’ve seen him shirtless a good handful of times, so I know there isn’t any space left beneath that specific piece of clothing,either.“Where?”I ask, the question flying out of my mouth as my imagination runs wild. The only places I haven’t seen on his body that might not be covered are…well…
He chuckles through his reply. “There are afewuntouched places, Little D. This will be for the back of my thigh, though.” His firm grasp wraps around the back of his leg. “Right here.”
“Oh,” the single word comes out on a breath. I ignore the flush rising in my cheeks. “That’s—cool.” I spin on my heels and turn around, putting a muffin on a small plate for him before turning back around and sliding it across the counter. With my finger pressed to my lips, I signal for him to keep quiet about it. It’s not that my boss would care—she loves me, and we’re allowed to have a few treats every shift—it’s just to pull that devastatingly gorgeous smile of his out further, and it works.
“Thank you,” he says. “What kind is it?”
“You’re welcome.” I beam. “It’s my favorite—a cinnamon roll muffin with an icing crumble on top.”
He brings it to his mouth and takes a bite, swallowing half the thing down in one go. His gaze lightens as it widens. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, “that is really good.”
Satisfaction—or something else too embarrassing to name—weeds through me. “Right?” I say. “The best thing on our menu, without a doubt.”
He nods as he takes another bite down.
“So,” I decide to switch topics while he enjoys my favorite treat. “You said your brother owns the tattoo shop, right?”
He swallows and clears his throat, before responding with, “Yeah, he does. Why do you ask?”
“Do they do piercings there?” I edge forward.
“They do…” His features pull together as his words trail off.
I gather my courage up in a pretty little bundle, a bouquet of bravery as I say, “I’ve been wanting to get my nipples pierced...”
He nearly chokes on his last bite of muffin, before swallowing it down with a dip of his head. “Your nipples?” He flushes. “You want to get your nipples pierced?”
“Yeah,” I manage. I can feel my blush spreading down my neck, tightening around the word as it leaves my mouth.
“You’re serious?” he asks.
I nod, a smile breaking through on my lips. I like making Jude fluster. And that’s exactly what he’s doing right now—flustering. His eyes widened in what looks like a bit of shock, struggling to find his words as his cheeks continue to fill with a tinge of pink. He shifts his solid weight from one foot to the other, and my smile stretches wider.
Despite my own nerves and amusement, this isn’t a whim decision. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while now, and I think the only place I’d feel comfortable doing it is somewhere Jude knows and trusts, like his brother’s tattoo shop.