Wicked by E.M. Lindsey

Author:E.M. Lindsey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E.M. Lindsey

CHAPTER TEN

By the time they finished getting Jax a change of clothes, Hawke was only half an hour late opening up his shop, and there wasn’t a line at the door or any furious messages on his phone about missed hours or appointments. In hindsight, that was probably not a good thing, but he’d take it as one considering everything was a shit show lately.

He offered Jax the key to his place and the truck to take home if he wanted to lie down, but Jax had bitten his lip, looking thoroughly fuckable, and shook his head. “Will it annoy you if I hang out?”

Normally, the answer would be yes. Hawke barely tolerated customers for long appointments, let alone assholes hanging out like the shop was a fuckin’ bar or café or something. His brothers occasionally came by to browse ink or convince him to add something to one of their sleeves, but for the most part, the shop was still his sanctuary.

He was surprised at how much he didn’t mind the idea of Jax sticking around, though. He expected to be irritated, but he felt better—like maybe he could prevent more shit going wrong if he could keep the guy in his sights.

He pointed out the coffee maker and the little fridge and cabinet where he kept snacks, then he offered up the unused stall for Jax to settle back in.

‘Use the chair,’ Hawke told him as he dug out his pad and charcoal to work on a client’s design. It was a big back piece that was getting started next month, and he’d been slacking off on getting the thing finished. ‘I have to work on this drawing.’

Jax nodded, then eased the chair into a reclining position before settling back against the headrest. He let out a small groan that was probably just him getting comfortable, but it sounded vaguely pornographic. Hawke ignored the twitch in his jeans and got himself as relaxed as he could with his arm strapped to his chest.

He half expected Jax to try to talk to him after that. Most people weren’t comfortable with long silences. Even Logan got fidgety and moved into his eyeline so he could ramble with his hands, and Gunner tended to fill the silence with whatever quiet mutterings went through his head.

But Jax didn’t do any of that. Hawke peeked up a couple of times to see if the man had dozed off, but he was awake, staring a little unfocused at the art Hawke had up on the walls. Jax was looking at a few paintings Hawke had done before Smokey had come along. Forge had seen them and referred to them as his art therapy.

They were dark and maybe a little violent, more abstract than his normal shit, with big, dark waves of movement in the still charcoal lines.

He never really thought about it that way, but it had helped ease some of the ache in his chest when he first set up shop and made the place his own.

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