Page 4 of Breaking Through the Doubt (Espen Jetties #4)

4

COREY

My hand trembled as I pulled the gun away from his skin to look at the outline of the tree. I still had the names of his family to finish before I started on the colors in the tree. The way he watched me still sat at the front of my mind. I couldn’t help noticing the way his eyes followed my every move, or the way his breath picked up when I pressed the transfer onto his skin.

His body was an absolute work of art. Corded muscles in his arms and a strong chest were often hidden behind the pads he wore when he played. Even his back was all muscle. It had been the first time in a long time that I’d paid attention to a man’s body.

In my early twenties, I bounced between men and women like a ping-pong ball. I struggled to decide which features I enjoyed most in bed. And let’s be honest, it was all about what was happening between the sheets then. I wasn’t interested in relationships or even getting to know many of them. Learning to tattoo and building my clientele had been my only focus.

As time went on and I opened my shop, my goals had changed. Picking up random strangers at bars and taking them home became less attractive. I worked hard all day and by the time I finished up for the night, I didn’t want to stay out drinking until the early morning hours before I got up and did it again.

Dating became more attractive to me. Finding a person to connect with after work. The one you could have dinner with or stay in and watch a movie. And almost all the dates I’d been on had been with women recently. It wasn’t that I had decided to exclusively date women. Reality was, there hadn’t been any men I’d had a desire to explore more with.

At least until Leslie Knoxton walked into my shop.

There was no denying the tightness in my jeans with each heated look he gave me. The man was fucking hot.

He was, however, a client.

Something I had to remind myself of repeatedly. He’d mentioned that none of his teammates had tattoos. This one bit of ink could lead to even more appointments on the books. That was something I couldn’t risk by thinking with my dick.

He turned his head to glance in my direction. “How does it look so far?”

The scruff on his chin and cheeks accented the golden brown of his eyes, and I had to tell myself once again to be professional. This was my business. A business I wanted to keep running. I couldn’t do that if I mixed business with pleasure.

“I’m almost done with the outline. I just need to finish the names before I start working on the color. Let me do those and we’ll take a short break.”

With an effort, I went back to work, trying to push away the heat in his eyes. I laid the gun on top of the first name, letting the soothing buzz settle me as I worked. Each name flowed into a pattern I knew well. Draw. Wipe away excess ink. Draw again.

I continued this way until I’d finished the names. I swiped away the last bit of ink. Even with his skin red and a little angry, I’d always had a way of being able to see past it, knowing exactly how the design would look once it healed. And I knew this would be one of my top designs.

Leslie moved and I realized I’d been staring a bit longer than necessary. I cleared my throat and set the gun down.

“You can sit up for a few moments if you want. I’m going to give my hand a break and grab a drink of water.”

“Sounds good.” Leslie pushed himself up and I darted from my area.

Forget giving him a break. I was the one who needed to collect myself. I went directly for the bathroom next to the supply room. Forgetting the drink of water, I wanted to splash some water on my face. Somehow, I needed to figure out a way to keep my mind focused on the job and not the man on my table.

I leaned over the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. In my head, I went through all the reasons I had to focus and keep my mind on the job at hand, and nothing else. For that to happen, I had to keep work and pleasure separate.

When I felt more in control, I left the bathroom. I grabbed two bottles of water from the supply room on my way by. Leslie was looking at his phone when I returned to my station. I handed him a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” He opened it and took a drink. When my eyes strayed to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, I turned and focused on getting the right colors for the tree.

Once Leslie was resettled onto the table, I dipped the needle into the ink, then positioned the gun above his skin. I moved the needle through sections of the tree. The silence was overwhelming my already strained senses.

“Didn’t seem like you had this planned out before you got here. Can I ask what brought you in tonight?”

I picked the gun up as he started to shrug his shoulders, then seemingly remembered I was permanently putting ink into his skin. “It was one of the designs in your window.”

There were plenty of designs that we put in our display case. Some of the work was Emilio’s, some of it was Andrea’s, but most of it was mine. For me, the display had become a way for me to show the hard work I’d put into getting this place off the ground. That I’d found a way to succeed on my own.

“Which piece was it?” A selfish part of me wanted it to be one of mine, but I knew the most likely one would be Emilio’s.

He was silent for a moment. “The one with the rose splitting in two.”

My hand froze. I knew exactly which design he referred to. My heart stuttered realizing, he had in fact, chosen one of mine.

“I drew that around the time I decided to look into opening my shop. I wanted to venture out on my own. But it would hurt to leave behind the artists I’d worked with for years. The ones who taught me everything I knew about tattoo art. Each side of the rose was a part of me wanting to go in two different directions.”

“And the teardrop?”

“It was the pain and desire pushing me on two paths.” I dipped the needles back into the ink and moved the gun to another part of the tree. “I put it in the window, hoping it would mean something to someone else.”

“It did to me.”

Talking about my art felt like a safe place for both of us to stay. “I’m glad. It’s always been the design that reminds me, even when decisions seem impossible, you will always make the best one for you.”

I continued to shade in the tree before I could add in the accents, bringing the design to life. Leslie was quiet for a long time while I worked. I didn’t want to push him to talk if he didn’t want to.

His deep voice startled me a bit later. “The rose called to me on a base level. Half of my life is my team, the game, and the rush I get from it. The other half is me in search of more. Feeling adrift, yet not, because I have family and friends around. Part of me is still missing though. I watch as my friends fall in love, and I’m left out. Not because I want to be. It’s just…” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find what I’m looking for.”

Leslie stopped talking and I didn’t want to pry. Besides, I had a feeling he’d been talking about relationships. I’d seen plenty of news over the last few months about his teammates being in relationships and it felt like very dangerous territory, considering my thoughts about Leslie.

I wiped away the last bit of ink and applied the healing ointment. “Are you ready to see?”

“Hell yeah.” Leslie stood from the table, and I handed him the mirror. This time, I positioned him in front of the full-length mirror. I made sure his back was facing it. This way he could move the small, handheld one into position to see better.

“That’s beautiful. They’ll have my back in every way.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear. When you’re ready, I’ll wrap you up.” He returned the mirror to me, and turned so his back faced me. “Would you mind if I get a quick picture of the design for your file?”

“Not at all.”

I picked up the tablet, took the picture, then proceeded to bandage his fresh ink. “I have aftercare instructions up front. I’ll meet you there when you’re done gathering your stuff.”

I walked behind the counter and gave Leslie a moment to put his shirt on. I didn’t have any faith I could watch his muscles flex to pull the fabric over his head and not have a reaction.

“Thank you,” he said when he reached the counter. “I hate to even cover it. I want to show it off.”

“I appreciate the compliment.” I handed over the aftercare instructions and some ointment. “Remember to keep your skin covered for about a week, except when you shower. After that you can leave it uncovered, but continue applying this ointment for the next few weeks. After that, you should be good to go.”

Leslie paid, then pocketed the aftercare instructions and ointment. “Thanks, Corey.”

I watched as the door closed behind him. As much as I hoped he would come back through the door so we could talk more, it was for the best that he didn’t.

“So, we’re getting celebrity clients now?” Emilio came up beside me.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Smart-ass. Should we start listing the members of the Sandpipers you already have on your books?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough, but that stems from Maddox. He’s brought them in on his own.”

“Oh, boo hoo, poor you, having to go to high school with the best wide receiver Espen’s ever seen.” Emilio gave me a quick punch to the arm.

“Still… The goalie for the Jetties? That’s some serious star power. The attention he gets is wild.”

“It is. Such a contrast to what I saw. It was like he was almost nervous when he got here.”

Emilio sat down in one of the chairs we kept behind the reception desk. He put his feet up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, that’s not exactly what I would expect either. I figured he was probably a giant asshole in real life, and his mouth got him into a whole lot of trouble.”

“He’s nothing like that.”

“Just goes to show you that the celebrity gossip sites will post anything for a few clicks.”

It did make me wonder though. I’d seen enough videos of Leslie getting into one bar fight after another. He seemed to attract trouble like no one I’d ever seen before. But the man I’d seen in those videos was nothing like the one I’d met tonight. Leslie was reserved, not flashy. And the story he told about what my rose design meant to him didn’t scream prima donna athlete.

Instead, he felt like a highly misunderstood individual. Someone the media had painted into a villain. The one they could poke until he exploded. They knew exactly which buttons would set him off.

“Well, I hope more people get to see the man who let me design his family tree.”

“Me too,” Emilio agreed. “Too many people forget that professional athletes are people too.”

And I had to remember they were clients, not potential relationship material.