I really like it here and I just want to say thanks again for letting me apprentice. It means a lot to me and -”
“Jesus Christ, knock it off with that sappy shit, or I’ll end your apprenticeship and you’ll start paying me a chair rental fee,” Preacher said.
Nolan laughed and left the room. Preacher finished cleaning the table before tossing the rag in the hamper to be washed. He’d do the interview in this room. He didn’t have any clients booked for the rest of the day, but the shop would still be busy. People were always dropping in to book appointments, browse the art on the walls, and look over his tattoo books.
Even more so now that it was tourist season. He’d learned after his first summer here to leave a few spots open every day for walk in’s. It was the only time of the year that he did walk-in’s, but it helped make his shop more popular with tourists if they thought they had a chance to get a tattoo while on vacation.
He hoped this Nix guy was good. He’d interviewed two other people this week and neither of them had strong enough tattooing skills. He wanted only the very best for his shop.
His shop.
A brief smile crossed his face. He’d never thought he’d be saying those words. Even now, some days he still couldn’t believe it. After living his entire life in New Cassel, Gideon had to work hard to convince him to move to Harmony Falls. And, if Preacher was being honest, despite how much he missed Gideon, he’d moved here because it was his only chance to get his own tattoo shop.
Maybe, but you love this stupid little town now, and you know it.
Yeah, maybe he did. He’d convinced himself he was a city boy, but fuck, if there wasn’t something appealing about living in a small town.
Something or someone?
He stared down at the friendship bracelet on his wrist. The blue and green threads were woven into a simple diamond design. He touched the bracelet, a flash of heat hitting his groin. He rolled his eyes, annoyed with himself for lusting after the little schoolteacher who’d made the bracelet.
She wants to fuck you.
He snorted before walking toward the door of the piercing room. Maybe she was just as hot for him as he was for her, but it didn’t mean he had a chance with her. Even if Addison didn’t have an idiot fiancé, she’d never actually let him touch her. Not outside of her fantasies anyway.
He’d met plenty of women like her and as soon as he made it clear he’d be happy to fuck them, their flirting stopped, and their interest dropped off as sharply as tourist shop sales in September. He never spoke about his past to anyone, but he was certain that more than one of those proper ladies who flirted with him suspected he was an ex-con.
Addison’s different.
He yanked open the door and stepped into the main part of the shop. She wasn’t different and he was a fucking fool if he tried to convince himself otherwise.
Besides, it didn’t matter. She was engaged and in a couple of months, she’d be forever tied to that wanker of a lawyer.
A dark-haired man, his body nearly as large and imposing as Preacher’s own 6’5”, was standing at the front desk. He held out his hand as Preacher approached and Preacher shook it firmly.
“Hello, I’m Nix Cordell. You must be Preacher.”
“I am,” Preacher said. “You want a coffee or some water?”
“No thanks,” Nix said.
He was wearing a dark green dress shirt with a grey tie and a pair of jeans. Like Preacher, his face was clear of tattoos, but there were a few peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and Preacher had no doubt that the rest of his body was fully inked.
“Follow me,” Preacher said.
He returned to the piercing room, shutting the door behind Nix and pointing to the chair he’d brought in from the lobby. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
Despite himself, he was already impressed with Nix. Hell, just the fact that he was wearing clean clothes and didn’t reek of weed and alcohol was a small miracle. He grabbed a stool and set it a few feet in front of Nix. The tattoo artist looked to be close to his age, and he projected an aura of confidence.
Nix handed over the black binder he carried. “Some of my work.”
“Thanks.” Preacher flipped through the binder, concealing