After the Fall

mean?”
    “Something about being free and out on the road. Not tied down anywhere.” Laughing softly, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Sounds kind of stupid when I explain it.”
    “No, it doesn’t. Seems quite fitting for you. Why not a motorcycle or something like that?”
    Ryan’s lips quirked, and he shrugged again. “That might work. A bike and the open road or something.” Then he turned to me. “You still thinking about getting a tattoo?” He grinned, and damn if he didn’t do a quick down-up with his eyes. “You’d look good with some ink.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “So I need some ink to—”
    “That is so not what I said.” He laughed. “I mean . . . well, let’s just say I have an appreciation for hot cars, especially hot cars with some custom paint and a little chrome.”
    I locked eyes with him. His grin turned a bit sheepish, and as some color rushed into his cheeks, he cleared his throat and broke eye contact.
    “I mean, uh . . . obviously it’s a personal thing,” he said, almost stammering.
    I chuckled and scanned the artwork on the walls. “So what kind of tattoo do you think I should get?”
    “Uh . . .” He shifted beside me. “Maybe something horse related?” He pointed at a sheet of horses and horseshoes. “Like . . . oh, that one.” He tapped a wicked cool line drawing of a dressage horse, one with just enough angles and curves to imply the shape and the extended trot, but without any intricate details. “That’s a really interesting one.”
    “Yeah, it is.” I leaned in to examine it closer. “Hmm. Might have to consider it. Question is, where should—” I turned my head, and my heart skipped when I realized that inspecting the drawing had pulled us closer to each other.
    Ryan swallowed. “Where should you get it?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I, uh . . .” He faced the drawing again, focusing intently on it. I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine. Maybe that would account for the additional pink in his cheeks right now. Or maybe that was my imagination. Wishful thinking. Something.
    I heard movement behind us, and we both turned around. Seth was bandaging up his client.
    “I think he’s almost done,” I said.
    “Good. Good.” Ryan exhaled, and I wondered if he was as thankful as I was for the diversion.
    Seth finished with his client and settled up with her. Once she’d gone, he came up to the counter. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting. What’s up?”
    “Dragging in a potential client.” I smiled. “Seth, this is my friend Ryan. Ryan, Seth.”
    They shook hands over the counter.
    “Nice to meet you,” Ryan said. “Nathan’s been talking about your work. Thought I’d come check it out for myself.”
    Seth’s gaze slid toward me. “You know I don’t pay you until after I’ve inked him, right?”
    “As long as you pay me.”
    Ryan eyed me, but then chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway. Yes, I’m interested in getting a tattoo.” He waved a hand at the designs on the wall. “And I do like your work.”
    “Thanks,” Seth said. “See anything you like for yourself, or are you thinking of getting something custom?”
    “Probably custom. Biggest question, though, is about where to put it.” Ryan gestured over his shoulder. “I’ve already got one that I’d like to . . . I don’t know, redo. Can you do it?”
    “I can cover up a tattoo. Mostly depends on how big and dark the original is, and how big and dark the new one will be.” Seth motioned for Ryan to turn around. “Can I see the old one?”
    “Yeah, sure.” In a single movement that I was totally not prepared for, Ryan took off his shirt. He turned around, showing his back to Seth, and I just stood there trying to bring my heart rate back down.
    No man had any business being that gorgeous without a shirt. Narrow hips, lean abs, broad shoulders—so hot. So fucking hot. He didn’t have a six-pack, but his stomach was flat and smooth; probably wouldn’t take him long to get a six-pack if he were so inclined. Or he could seriously stay just the way he was, because holy fuck.
    As Seth inspected the tattoo, I imagined him putting his hand on Ryan and then touching the needle to his skin. Would Ryan jump? Gasp? Or close his eyes and stoically endure the pain?
    Get a grip, Nathan.
    I shook myself and shifted my attention back to whatever Seth was saying to Ryan.
    “—not a bad-looking tattoo, to be honest. Faded a bit, but that’s bound to happen.”
    “Yeah, but