Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(12)

I thought about it. We were both up and unlikely to get much sleep after my nocturnal trespasser. He was nothing like men I usually dated, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have some fun together. A friend with benefits right next door? That sounded like a win-win to me.

But before I could make even the slightest suggestion as to how I could thank him, he looked away and brushed past me, out the bedroom door.

“Thanks for your help,” I said to his back as he headed for the kitchen.

He didn’t turn around. “You’re welcome. Goodnight.”

And just like that, he was out the door.

He hadn’t even given me the chance to apologize for waking him.

It was his loss. Although maybe he’d done me a favor. I’d been awakened from a vivid sex dream that still lingered in my mind—and body. That could have been clouding my judgment and I’d have regretted sleeping with him. Or maybe none of that rough manliness translated to prowess between the sheets.

But something told me that wouldn’t have been a problem.

I found my phone where I’d dropped it on the kitchen floor and went around turning off the lights. The time on the microwave caught my eye. It was just after three in the morning. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go back to sleep, but I decided to try. I went back to my room and climbed into bed.

My eyes closed but it was as if Dex had left an aura of testosterone in my house. Turning over, I tried to push him from my mind. But as I drifted off to sleep, the memory of his presence invaded and once again I found myself lost in an erotic dream starring my big, tattooed neighbor.





6





DEX





The coffee in the back room of my tattoo shop was just shy of terrible. I drank it anyway. At least it was hot and filled with caffeine. After last night, I needed it.

I’d already been up when I’d heard Nora scream—insomnia strikes again. Without pausing to think about what I was doing—or put on more clothes—I’d rushed outside. And found my terrified neighbor ready to fend off the neighborhood wildlife with a broom.

She’d also been practically naked.

Apparently her silky tank top and shorts qualified as pajamas but they didn’t leave much to the imagination. I hadn’t noticed at first but as soon as I’d turned on her porch light, that incredible body of hers had come into focus.

Every bit of it.

Just the memory of those luscious curves was enough to give me a semi.

I rolled my eyes and took another drink of the awful coffee. I needed to think about something else—anything else. My indecently hot neighbor was going to get me into trouble.

Kari poked her head in the back room. She had flaming orange curls and a slight piercing addiction. Nose, septum, eyebrow, bridge, labret, plus several in each ear. And that was just her face. She ran our front desk and was apprenticing under Sonny, one of my senior artists.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? You look like shit.”

I scowled at her. “I had a rough night.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nope. Then there was a raccoon in my neighbor’s trash, so that was a whole thing.”

“Have you tried hypnosis? I know a guy who swears by it.”

“I’ve tried everything.”

It was true, I’d tried everything to cure my insomnia. From normal stuff like low light in the evenings, melatonin, herbal teas, and even prescription drugs, to weirder folk remedies like eating fried lettuce before bed—not something I’d recommend—and turning my bed to face north.

Nothing helped. I’d more or less resigned myself to it.

“Sucks, man.”

“I’ll live.”

“For now. I read somewhere that lack of sleep takes ten years off your life.”

“Thanks, Kari. That’s helpful.”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, your appointment is here. Her name’s Alicia.”

“I’ll be right out.”

I downed the last swallow of my coffee and went out to meet my client.

She was young, maybe twenty at the most, with straight brown hair that hung around her shoulders. She wore a loose t-shirt, distressed jeans, and a pair of hot pink Converse low-tops that Riley would love.

Which made me realize, she had to be closer to Riley’s age than mine.

I resisted the urge to ask her if she was old enough for a tattoo. She had to be—Kari always checked ID before booking—but I had the weirdest urge to ask her if she was sure about this.

Was this what happened when your kid hit her teens? Women under twenty-five started to look more like daughters than peers?

“Alicia?” I asked, giving her a warm smile.

She shifted from one foot to another—clearly nervous—and smiled. “Yeah, hi.”

“I’m Dex.” I offered my hand and took hers in a gentle handshake. “Nice to meet you. If you’re ready, I’ll take you back to my station and we can talk about your tattoo.”

“Thanks.”

I led her to my station at the back of the shop and offered her a seat. Her eyes darted around and she fidgeted with a bracelet on her wrist. Over the last couple of years, I’d replaced most of the posters and stickers on the walls with Riley’s art. She loved to paint and I loved being surrounded by her work.