Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,51
said they could help me end up using me instead. It’s hard to let that go. I was… I was worried you were going to try to use me.”
My chest ached for the kid. I wished for the millionth time that we didn’t live in a world where boys were allowed to slip between the cracks—instead of a world that allowed good guys like Bryan and my crew to suffer and rarely offered help.
“I get that,” I said. “But no one here will use you. I will say this—you’ll have time this summer to get used to the shop with just us, but in the fall we’ll be filming. You’ll need to be eighteen before you can decide whether you want to be on the show or work on the sidelines. Channing didn’t appear in the first season, but he was in here working for the majority of the filming. And, I might add, finishing school.”
Heat radiated through my chest as I remembered how Channing had switched from surly punk to the incredible man he was now. I hoped Get Ink’d could provide that for Bryan.
He filled out the paperwork and agreed to be back for work soon after clearing it with his grandfather, who I suspected would be thrilled someone was willing to hire Bryan. I walked him out, grinning as the crew yelled goodbyes so enthusiastic that Bryan’s cheeks matched his hair.
“See you soon,” I said, waving as he left. “I’m glad you came by.”
He nodded and ducked awkwardly. The door closed behind him and I felt my shoulders relax, happy that my family was growing. When I turned to head back to my office, I caught Channing looking at me, his face filled with warmth and his eyes dancing. He winked at me, and I remembered in a flash of heat the taste of him, the smell, the sounds he made as I sucked him off—
“Oh, god, gross,” Dane groaned, yanking me from my memory.
Mateo chimed in. “Totally gross. Too many goo-goo eyes for my heart to take.”
So, of course, Dane rallied, and needed to one up Mateo. “Please keep it in the pants. I do not need to know what my little brother looks like when he’s got a hard-on.”
I expected Channing to cringe, to blush, to do anything except what he did, which was shrug and look pointedly at Dane. “This is payback for all the times I’ve been forced to see you and Chris with sex face in the morning. You two bang more than rabbits.”
Dane sputtered as the rest of us laughed, and I couldn’t help the swell of pride. Channing could hold his own. It was silly of me to worry at all. But to lend solidarity, I walked over to him and planted a kiss on his mouth in full view of the crew. The guys groaned and Javi called out, “I’m trying t-to work here.”
“I’ve gotta get back to work,” I said, keeping an arm around Channing’s waist. “Have a good day, okay?”
“Mmm,” Channing said, leaning into me. “Don’t work too hard.”
I was reluctant to peel myself away, but paperwork waits for no man. Hours went by. I had two consultations for some tattoos I’d be doing when the new season started. There were phone calls to make for sponsors and negotiations for payments. By the end of the day, my eyes were strained from looking at the computer, and I felt hollowed out inside.
Just as I was leaning back in my chair to take a break, Dane stuck his head in. “Have a moment, Boss?”
“Sure,” I managed, trying to sit straight. My shoulders were killing me. Dane closed the door behind him and that got my attention fast. “What’s wrong?”
Dane shrugged and sat down. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
I felt my brows pinch. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Channing. Ever since he came home from school, he’s seemed… off. Like there’s something on his mind. At first, I thought it was you—no offense. But it seems like it’s something different. Chris is getting worried, and I just want to make sure, I guess, if we need to be… I don’t know. Preparing ourselves for something?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You don’t need to worry. I mean, Channing is working through something, but he’ll talk to you and Christian when he’s ready. And he’s not in any danger.”
Dane visibly relaxed, his head lolling back. “Thank you. I’m sorry to make you the middleman,