Cover Up Read online

  “I know you will.” Colin smiled. Then his eyes flicked toward the room where Nate was waiting. “Oh, and, uh . . . I should probably warn you about what happens when you ogle clients.”

  Lucas shot him a glare, but the heat in his cheeks probably meant enough of a blush to kill the entire effect. At least his boss had the decency to keep his voice down. Shaking his head, Lucas quietly said, “I’ll pass on someone who’s freshly divorced, thanks.”

  Colin just gave him a knowing smile and went back to working on the shop’s books.

  Yeah, Colin probably thought Lucas would tumble into bed with Nate and wind up falling in love like Matt and Jon had. And like Colin himself and Daniel had. Hell, there were four guys working in this shop, and two of them were in committed relationships with men who’d started out as clients. Lucas wondered if Pete would’ve married a client too, if he hadn’t been with his wife since middle school.

  Tumble into bed with him? Fuck yes. Fall in love? Not likely.

  Lucas opened up the supply cabinet and collected some plastic wrap and Sharpie markers. He didn’t object to the idea of hooking up with a client. After seeing the downright stunning men his boss and coworker had landed, he hoped there was something in the ink in this place. Just an aphrodisiac, though. Not a love potion. Two divorces before twenty-five were more than enough for him.

  But hey, if the guy was willing to go someplace private and get naked, Lucas figured he could talk himself into it.

  With his supplies in hand and his confidence still wavering, he went back into the side room. As he walked in, he met Nate’s gaze and almost—almost—dropped everything he was carrying. Great. His confidence was already in the toilet, and now he had to try to concentrate in the presence of a man who was hot enough to make him trip over his own feet just by breathing.

  He forced himself play it cool, though, and set the roll of plastic and handful of pens down beside Nate. “Okay. So.” He cleared his throat. “I’m just going to roll up your sleeve so I can see the whole thing, and then tape some plastic over it so I can trace the lines. That way I’ll have a copy that’s the exact size, and I can sketch the new tattoo over the top of that.” He paused. “Shit. I need tape. Be right back.”

  Without waiting for a response, Lucas left the room again. He swore under his breath. Now he was forgetting basic shit? Like tape? He couldn’t even decide if it was his lack of confidence throwing him off, or if it was Nate.

  Get a grip, idiot. He’s not the first hot guy you’ve ever worked on, but he’ll be the last if you keep being stupid.

  A hand materialized on his shoulder and made him jump out of his skin. He spun around, and Colin showed his palms.

  “Hey,” his boss said. “Relax.” He cocked his head. “You’re really struggling today, aren’t you?” It wasn’t the kind of comment a boss from one of his other jobs would’ve made. They were more apt to be passive aggressive—point out that it was obvious he was struggling, and leave it to him to get his shit together or else. Colin wasn’t like that.

  Lucas exhaled as he turned to get a roll of masking tape off the shelf beside the supply cabinet. “I’ll be fine.”

  Colin didn’t look convinced. His brow pinched and his lips quirked slightly. His eyes flicked toward the tape in Lucas’s hand, then back to the room where Nate was waiting. Facing Lucas again, he lowered his voice. “If you need to cut out early or anything, just say so, okay?”

  Lucas dropped his gaze and nodded. “I will. Thanks.” He had no intention of leaving early, or taking it easy, or any of the other things Colin had suggested lately, but he appreciated the gesture. At least his boss didn’t think he was a complete and utter failure as a tattoo artist. Or maybe he did, and he was just being polite.

  You’re an apprentice. If he thinks you suck, he’ll just show your dumb ass to the door.

  Lucas shook himself, double-checked he’d actually grabbed the tape he’d come looking for, and politely bowed out of the conversation with Colin. The guy meant well, and Lucas couldn’t have asked for a better boss, especially while he was still apprenticing. They just had very different philosophies when it came to licking wounds and taking care of bruised egos. Colin had been in therapy for a long time, and it showed in his approach to this kind of thing. Lucas preferred quiet self-loathing. Hell, maybe he needed therapy.

  But right now, what he needed to do was get to work on this cover-up design. Maybe if he nailed this one, he’d feel less like shit about the one he’d blown.

  When he returned to the side room for the second time, Nate had rolled up his sleeve, revealing most of the tattoo.

  Nate glanced at the tattoo, then at him. “Would it be easier if I took off my shirt?”

  No. No it would absolutely not be easier.

  Except . . . it would. Because the tiger’s tail and one of its back feet dipped under the sleeve. And it would be a hell of a lot easier to trace it without fighting with the fabric, and more comfortable for Nate than hiking the sleeve up to his armpit.

  Lucas schooled his expression and his tone. “Yeah, it might be. Just let me know if you get cold.”

  Nate flashed him a quick and possibly shy smile, then peeled off his shirt.

  Oh, hell yeah. Given that he was in the military, it was no surprise that this guy was in great shape. His abs were smooth and his chest and shoulders seemed even broader and more built now that they weren’t being contained by that T-shirt. He wasn’t furry, but he had enough dark chest hair to make Lucas’s pulse race.

  One thing was for sure—Nate might get cold, but Lucas sure as shit wouldn’t.

  Clearing his throat, he pulled his gaze away and forced himself to focus on his job, not the hot half-naked man sitting on the table.

  “So, how does this work, anyway?” Nate asked.

  “Well.” Lucas started pulling a piece of plastic off the roll. “Like I said, I’ll put this over the ink, then go over all the lines and shading. When I photocopy the tracing, it’ll be exactly the right size, and I can work on the new design over the top of that. Whatever stencil I make will fit exactly over the existing tattoo. That way I can be absolutely sure it covers it perfectly.”

  “Oh. Interesting.”

  Lucas smoothed the clear plastic over the tattoo, giving it a few extra strokes under the pretense of getting rid of wrinkles instead of just copping a subtle feel of the biceps underneath.

  As he did, he kept a hand on Nate’s shoulder. Usually that was helpful. Like resting his elbows on the seat back, it kept him—and his client—steady. Not so much today.

  He forced himself to focus on the job. Specifically, Nate’s ink. “I know you’re looking to cover it up, but damn, this is a gorgeous tattoo.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Nate said, with a note of sadness. Then he shook his head, the sadness replaced by sharp bitterness. “Gorgeous or not, I want it gone if I have to chew the damn thing off.”

  Oh. Apparently there was some history attached to this ink. Lucas would’ve bet money it had to do with the recent divorce, but he didn’t ask.

  “I can understand that.” Lucas pulled his swivel chair as close as possible to Nate’s. He turned it around and straddled it, since he liked to use the back to support his elbows. Kept his hand steady and cut down on fatigue. “Okay. So now to trace it. This part takes a while.”

  Nate flashed a smile that sent electricity straight to Lucas’s balls. “That’s fine. I’m not in any hurry to be anywhere.”

  Fuck. . . .

  Lucas uncapped his Sharpie and rested a hand on Nate’s arm. Fortunately this was fairly mindless. Follow the lines. Easy. As he neared the plastic with the tip of the marker, he said, “This might feel kind of weird.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Chapter 3

  Lucas was right—it felt really weird.

  The tip of the pen slowly followed the lines of the tiger tattoo, which meant a roving point of muted pressure. And where Lucas’s hand rested—half on the plastic, half on b
are skin—was a strange combination of almost nothing and way too much.

  Nate closed his eyes and exhaled. It should not have fucked with his senses like this, having a man’s hand on him. Didn’t matter how attractive the guy was. Nate wasn’t someone who was led around by his libido.

  Except his libido had been MIA, and now it was back with a vengeance. Having Lucas’s warm fingers on his skin was enough to put him at the mercy of his own baser needs. On the bright side, he didn’t feel quite so dead anymore, but maybe his body could’ve waited until he was alone to wake up like this. At least then he’d avoid the possibility of a badly timed hard-on.

  He looked at the designs on the wall. Focused on them. Concentrated on them.

  For about three seconds.

  Then Lucas adjusted his hand on Nate’s arm, pulling Nate’s focus right back to that half-contact. And all the other places he’d like to have Lucas’s—

  Come on. Stop thinking like a teenager.

  He swallowed. “So, uh, how long does this step take?”

  “Well, the tiger’s got a lot of really intricate details. Plus the stripes. So . . .” Lucas looked up at him. “Maybe twenty minutes? Half an hour?”

  Okay. Half an hour. He could keep his shit together for that long. Hopefully.

  “And you really think you can cover it?”

  “It’s going to be tricky, but I think, depending on what you want for the cover-up, this is doable.”

  “Yeah?”

  The artist nodded. “There’s a lot of black, which will make it harder, but I think I can work with it. It’ll have to be something pretty detailed and intricate so I can incorporate all these lines, but . . .” He furrowed his brow as he traced the tiger’s claws. “At least the ink is really smooth. Sometimes it sticks up enough that there’s no way I can cover it without a three-dimensional shadow of the original design showing through. But this one lays pretty flat. So that’s good.”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that,” Nate said. “I really don’t want this fucker to be visible. At all.”

  Lucas’s eyes flicked up, the unspoken question etched all over his expression, before he continued tracing.

  Nate pulled in a breath. “My ex-husband and I were idiots and got matching tattoos. Now that he’s gone, I want this gone, too. Especially since . . .” He shifted his gaze to the designs plastered on the wall from floor to ceiling. “The thing is, the tiger was kind of an inside joke. My ex and I met at a karaoke bar after Jon and I finished singing the worst rendition of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ ever. I mean, we were terrible. Hilariously terrible, but still.” Funny how that memory used to make him laugh. Now it just hurt. “And this guy came up to me afterward and said he’d buy me a drink if I promised to never butcher that song again. Next thing I knew, we were dating.”

  “Wow.” Lucas laughed softly. “That’s . . . a hell of a way to meet someone.”

  “Yeah. So we decided if we were going to get tattoos together, it had to be a tiger.” Nate sighed. “God, it just sounds so sentimental and stupid now.”

  “Not really. A lot of people get tattoos that mean something to them and only them.”

  “Maybe. But now I just want it covered.”

  “Fair enough.” Lucas furrowed his brow and tilted his head as he traced a line along the front of Nate’s biceps. “I guess it would help if I knew what I was putting over the top of it.”

  Wouldn’t mind you over the top of me.

  Nate almost choked on his own breath. What the fuck? No sex drive whatsoever for weeks, never any desire at all for a casual hookup, and now this?

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t even know.” If he’d been drawing a blank on a replacement tattoo before he’d come in here, he was completely at a loss now. He was too busy being taken aback by the way his body responded to Lucas at every turn. By how much he wanted to tell him to put the tattoo on hold, go someplace private with him, and help him cash in a whole lot of sexual frustration in a single night.

  Except he hadn’t been sexually frustrated. He’d just been . . . numb. There’d been a void where his sex drive had once lived, and he hadn’t wanted sex. Hadn’t missed it. Had been downright repulsed by the idea.

  But sitting here now with Lucas’s hands on him, he was as wound up as if he’d been dying to get laid for a year. He was tense all over, nearly vibrating with pent-up sexual energy that was suddenly desperate for an outlet.

  For one outlet in particular.

  He glanced at Lucas. That boyish face was so earnest, features taut with concentration. Did he know he chewed his lip while he worked? Or was that an unconscious thing? Either way, did he have a clue how stupidly sexy it was?

  Lucas’s blue eyes flicked up and met Nate’s through long lashes, and he stopped chewing his lip long enough to flash a smile that made Nate’s pulse race.

  A second later, Lucas was again focused on the tattoo. Nate looked at the wall so he wouldn’t get caught staring like a creeper, but then he noticed the full-length mirror. As it happened, the mirror was at a perfect angle to give him a nice view of Lucas’s profile. One he could ogle without making the kid self-conscious.

  Nate took full advantage of the new discreet means of checking Lucas out. Drinking in the way his T-shirt hugged his arm and shoulders. Speculating about the smooth abs and narrow hips hidden beneath the lower half of the shirt and the relaxed-fit jeans. The way his head was tilted made Nate want to run his fingers or lips—or both—along the exposed skin of Lucas’s neck.

  Lucas’s left heel was tapping in time with music Nate couldn’t hear, and that subtle motion drew Nate’s attention to the way his pant leg had ridden up slightly on his battered black combat boots. All these years in the military should’ve dulled his attraction to things like that, but . . . no. A weathered black boot under jeans? Hot. They’d probably never even been in the same room as a tin of Kiwi, but that was quite all right with Nate. It wasn’t like Lucas would be standing for a uniform inspection any time soon. Those boots didn’t need to be spit shined.

  No, they just needed to be on Nate’s bedroom floor.

  The thought jarred him, though he didn’t let it show.

  What . . . the . . . fuck?

  Before Caleb, Nate had been a serial monogamist. He’d just never gotten into casual sex or promiscuity, while Jon had slept around enough for both of them. Neither judged each other (though there was plenty of shit-talking). It was just how they each were wired.

  And now . . . seriously, what the fuck? Jon had pretty much forgotten that men besides Matt even existed, and Nate was thinking with his dick.

  It was like someone had come along and swapped his and Jon’s brains. Or like they’d spent so much time careening around the skies together, their personalities had collided and then switched bodies. Much more of this, and Nate was going to be cheering for the goddamned Falcons.

  He shuddered.

  “You okay?” Lucas looked up from tracing the tiger’s paw just above Nate’s elbow. “Cold?”

  Oh, no. Cold is not the problem right now.

  “I’m good.” Nate smiled and tried to be subtle about fidgeting to accommodate the rising bulge that he also didn’t want to draw attention to. “Just, uh . . .” He tried to think of something, but really, there was nothing he could say to save face that wouldn’t just make it worse. So, he cleared his throat again and muttered, “Nothing. I’m good.”

  “Okay.” Lucas started to work again, but then paused. “Maybe we should think about some ideas for the cover-up.”

  “Oh. Yeah. We should.” Especially since it’ll take my mind off you. He glanced at the mirror again. Of course that meant he happened to catch Lucas’s reflection right as the kid leaned down to scratch his leg, which pulled his pant leg up a little more and revealed more of the boot. Why was that so hot? Why was everything Lucas did so . . . fucking . . . hot?

  Nate rubbed a hand over his face. Get a grip, idiot. “So . . . designs. I’m not even sure where to start.”
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  “Well.” Lucas sat back and capped his pen as he looked at the designs on the wall. He absently rubbed his right hand, probably working out a little writer’s cramp or something, and quirked his lips. “We do military designs here all the time. Matt’s probably your best bet if you want a plane. Him or Colin, really.”

  “Not your thing?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done a few, but I think theirs are way better.” Lucas laced his hands behind his head and stretched, oblivious to the way his shirt pulled smooth and tight over his stomach, or how it lifted just enough to offer a sliver of fair skin above the waistband, or how much that was killing Nate. Gaze still fixed on the wallpaper of tattoos, Lucas said, “You could also go for something abstract or tribal. Or like a Celtic knot.” He motioned toward some designs made up of thick black lines and curves. “I could blend the tiger stripes pretty easily into . . .” His gaze shifted back to the tattoo, and he scowled.

  “What’s wrong?” Nate asked.

  Lucas studied the tattoo for a moment, then shook his head and looked at the wall again. “Just trying to figure out how to incorporate the tiger’s colors into something like that.” He gestured at the designs. “They’re usually just black, but I’m sure I could figure something out.”

  Nate let his gaze shift from one design to the other. They all definitely worked as solely black tattoos. Adding more colors didn’t seem right. Not that he had much of an artist’s eye, so maybe Lucas could come up with something Nate couldn’t envision. He was the professional, after all. So maybe—

  Movement in the mirror caught his attention, and he looked.

  And busted Lucas checking him out.

  He was inconspicuous about it—Nate had to give him credit—but there was definitely something less than professional about the way those blue eyes were giving him a slow, indulgent sweep. And he was doing that lip bite thing again, too. Fuck.

  Nate turned to him, and Lucas jumped. The marker in his hand tumbled to the floor. Clearing his throat, he leaned down to grab it, but not before deep pink bloomed in his cheeks. As he sat up again, he made an admirably subtle gesture—one Nate wouldn’t usually have noticed—of adjusting himself.