The Do-Over (The Rooftop Crew #5) - Piper Rayne Page 0,36
washes his hands, and puts on gloves.
“What’s this thing with shirts?” Blanca comes next to me, situating herself so she can still have a conversation with all the artists.
Kamea opens her mouth, but Jax beats her to the answer. “Just something between us. You’ll all find out eventually.”
“Oh, I’m on the edge of my tattoo chair,” Frankie says.
“You’ll like them the most.” He winks, and she rolls her eyes.
The bell on the door rings as Jolie, Frankie’s daughter, walks in.
“Hey!” Blanca says, holding out her arms.
Jolie hugs Blanca right away. Her grandma lingers by the door but sits down since Frankie is still working.
“I’m almost done, baby. Sit with Knox and Blanca. How are things, Sandy?” Frankie asks Jolie’s grandma, her ex’s mother. Complicated situations seem to be the thing around here.
“Good. You know the shelter I help out at on Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah?”
Everyone’s attention rests on Sandy while I can’t stop watching Jax and Kamea. This is not good.
“Well, the guy who was supposed to play Santa on Thanksgiving just canceled. So now we’re scrambling.”
“Play Santa?” Jolie says, and the room quiets.
“We talked about this, Jolie. Santa has helpers,” Frankie says.
Jolie’s mouth falls open, and she looks at Blanca and me in disbelief.
“The big guy can’t do it all by himself,” Jax adds.
More stunned silence fills the room. Jax has a soft spot for Jolie, but he refuses to admit he has a soft spot for her mom too.
Jolie zeros in on me, walks over, and leans close. “Are you one of Santa’s helpers?”
Blanca chokes on a laugh.
I try to act serious when I really want to ask the little girl if I look like an old fat man who eats cookies daily.
“Why would you ask that?” Sandy asks.
Jolie looks at her grandma and back at me. “He looks like a young Santa. Big, and he kind of has a beard.”
“Big?” I ask.
Blanca laughs again.
“Does Santa’s stomach look like this?” I lift my shirt and show off my six-pack.
“Put your shirt down. The girl was just asking. It’s a compliment.” Jax winks at Jolie.
I spot Kamea’s heated stare on my stomach and a rush of electricity runs through my body. How could I ever be jealous of her and Jax when she only looks at me that way? I lower my shirt and Kamea turns her attention to Jax.
“Good thing the dress is long-sleeved,” Blanca says.
“Oh, I didn’t even think about that. I should have waited.” Kamea looks at me.
I shrug. I don’t really care. Plenty of my coworkers sport tattoos. “As long as you’re comfortable.”
A tugging on my pant leg turns my attention down. “Knox?” Jolie asks.
“Yeah?”
“Will you play Santa for my grandma’s shelter?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m sure he would love to, Jolie,” Jax says with a grin.
“Yeah, he loves to do stuff like that,” Dylan shouts from his spot.
“Come on, guys,” Frankie says and crooks her finger for Jolie to come to her. She leans forward and whispers something.
Blanca smacks me on the arm. “You’re going to disappoint her.”
Jolie comes back over to me, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes tearing up. Oh shit, Frankie. Seriously? Come on.
“I’m sorry, Knox,” Jolie say quietly.
I look at Frankie and sigh. She shrugs and continues tattooing. Jax coughs out, “Grinch.” Blanca hits me again.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say.
“Really?” Sandy asks, and I half wonder if I was set up.
Jolie jumps up and down, clapping. She runs over to Frankie, and they air high five.
“Got you,” Frankie says.
I shake my head and ignore them. As though I could’ve really said no to Jolie.
“See, he’s a good guy like that.” Jax nods to me while his needle buzzes over Kamea’s arm.
She smiles brightly at me as though she’s just as enamored as little Jolie.
“I gotta go sleep before work,” I mumble and walk out of the tattoo shop.
When I get to my apartment, I do what I’ve been doing almost every night. I beat off to visions of what I think Kamea looks like under her clothes, then I pass out like a baby until my alarm blares at nine.
“So you’re bringing the waitress?” Patrice asks when we call in for our dinner break, walking into the sandwich shop we usually eat at since we started on the night shift.
“Kamea. Yes.”
“Is that your type then? Polynesian?” She looks over her menu as though we’ve never been here before.
Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a relationship with Patrice. I mean, we spend so much time together. Especially on this overnight shift, where there