The Rules of Dating

Tuesday after I left the office, I slowed on the sidewalk as I passed the tattoo parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owner—otherwise known as the woman who had been haunting my dreams the last few nights. It was fucked up. I very rarely dreamed—or at least I very rarely remembered my dreams—but three nights in a row now, I’d had the same goddamn one. I was in Billie’s shop, lying in her tattoo chair while she inked a black-and-white picture of a bridge onto the skin over my right pectoral muscle. It would have been innocent enough if it stopped there, but of course it didn’t. Halfway through my tat, she pressed the pedal on the floor and lowered the chair. Then she leaned over and licked her way up my abs… It always ended the same way: Billie in the chair with her legs over my shoulders as I drilled the shit out of her.

Lovely, isn’t it? The woman is sweet to my daughter, and I repay that kindness by having a recurring erotic fantasy and jerking off to the memory every morning. Just thinking about it made me feel like a dirtbag, so even though I wanted to pop in and spend a few minutes with Billie, I didn’t really deserve to.

So, I decided to leave it up to fate. If I happened to see her in the window, I’d stop. If not, I wouldn’t. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side tonight, and the only person I saw was the receptionist. Oh well. It was probably for the best. Billie had obviously just come off a bad breakup, which meant the timing wasn’t right—not that she would likely go out with me even if the timing were perfect.

I passed her door and continued to the main entrance for the apartments, walking straight to the elevator. When the doors slid open, my buddy Owen stepped out.

“Hey,” I said. We did a quick fist bump and one-arm-shoulder-hug thing. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy. My assistant left to go on maternity leave, and one of my agents quit without giving any notice, so I’m shorthanded.”

I looked down at what Owen had in his hand and grinned. “A toolbox? Are you going to a costume party or something? Because I know you don’t have a damn clue how to use one thing in that box, dude.”

“Bite me, asshole. I’m not incompetent. I just prefer not to get my hands dirty.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I heard your manicurist gets upset if you develop a callus.”

I was busting balls, of course, though Owen really did get manicures. Out of my crew of four, he was definitely the one who called people to fix shit, rather than having people call him.

“Seriously, though,” I added. “Where are you going with a toolbox?”

“Holden got a last-minute gig. He didn’t want to pass it up because some music bigwig was going to be there, so he asked me to cover for him as the super for a few days. Trust me, I tried to say no, but he seemed pretty desperate. Now you could be a good friend and cover for me, though…”

I grinned. “No can do. I have a sweet girl waiting for me upstairs.”

“Come on. It won’t take too long. Uncle Owen can take her out for ice cream while you’re doing this maintenance call.”

“Why do you assholes always want to feed my kid sugar?”

Owen smirked. “That’s how we get all the girls to like us.”

I laughed as I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button. “You’re an idiot. Have fun sticking your hands in a toilet or whatever shitty thing you wind up doing.”

“Yeah, fun—fixing air conditioning. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo after, because the thought of someone continually poking me with a needle sounds almost as fun.”

The elevator doors started to slide shut, but my ears had perked up at the word tattoo. Reaching forward, I stopped the doors from closing. “The air isn’t working in the tattoo parlor?”

“Nope. The owner called it in a little while ago.”

Well, well, well. Maybe fate had other plans for me. “On second thought, you have no idea how to fix an air-conditioning unit. Why don’t I go check it out? My sitter has Saylor at the park right now, but they’ll be back in about an hour. You’d just have to be around to relieve her if I’m not done in time.”

“Really?”

I stepped out of the elevator and plucked the toolbox from his hand. “Really. But you owe me one.”

“You got it. Thanks. If I have an hour, I’m going to run to my office to get a file I need for the morning. But I’ll make sure I’m back before Saylor and the sitter return.”

“Alright. Just don’t be late.”

“I won’t. Thanks again, buddy.”

I almost felt a little bad. Although not bad enough to admit I would’ve used any excuse to go to Billie’s, and definitely not bad enough that I wouldn’t be collecting on Owen’s IOU one day.

***

“Hey,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here to look at the AC unit?”

She squinted at me. “Aren’t you the guy from the other night? The one who fell into the middle of the Tinder reunion?”

“One and the same.” I smiled and extended my hand. “Colby Lennon. I’m one of the owners of the building. We try to handle the repairs ourselves, if it’s possible.”

She smiled and shook my hand. “Justine Russo. If you’re going to fix this AC, I’m pretty sure you’ll get a sunnier reception from Billie this time. It’s blowing hot air. I think it’s up to eighty-five in the back already.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Where is the unit?”

“It’s in the rear of the studio. Help yourself. Billie’s back there.”

I headed back, feeling a little too excited about fixing a damn air conditioner. But that excitement quickly deflated when I opened the door to the studio and found Billie lying in a tattoo chair while some big, tatted dude rubbed her shoulders. She was wearing what I was starting to consider her signature work outfit—a corset, but without the flannel over it now.

Neither of them seemed to have heard me walk in, and it felt like I was interrupting a private moment, so I cleared my throat before fully entering. The big guy lifted his chin, but never took his hands off of Billie. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, here to look at the AC.”

Billie sat up from the chair. The big smile that spread across her face made me feel a tiny bit better about what I’d walked in on.

“Hey, what’s up, big daddy?” She winked.

Fuck. My cock twitched. Was it her calling me daddy or the wink? Maybe both. I tried to play it cool and lifted my chin. “Hey. What’s up?”

She turned to the tatted guy. “This is the new landlord I was telling you about—the one I’m not tattooing a rose on. Deek, this is Colby. Colby, this is Deek.”

Billie swung her legs in the air and jumped down from the chair. It was impossible not to notice her tits jiggling in that little corset. Today’s was black lace, and I found myself wondering if she had on matching lace panties under her jeans. I bet she did. The flannel she usually wore was tied around her waist. I couldn’t blame her; it was fucking hot as hell in here.

Billie tilted her head toward the back of the room. “Follow me.”

I did my best not to stare at her ass as we walked, though it wasn’t easy. Her jeans were tight, and today’s corset didn’t meet the top of her pants, so she had an inch of skin exposed, too—it was so damn creamy.

Fuck. What was with me and this woman? I wasn’t usually such a damn horn dog.

Billie waved her hands Vanna White-style when she reached the big condenser in the back of the room. “Here’s the offending equipment. I’ve named him Kaiden since it’s useless and blowing hot air.”

I laughed. “Good to know. And where’s your thermostat?”

She pointed to a wall ten feet away, then hooked her thumbs into her belt loops. “Well, I won’t stand on top of you while you work. Just yell if you need anything.”

“Sounds good.”

After I checked the basics in the air handler, making sure nothing was frozen and the filters were clean, I walked over to the thermostat. While I unscrewed the cover, I listened to the conversation going on behind me between Billie and Deek.

“It would be good for you,” he said. “I think you should do it. Just ignore her.”

“You’ve met Renee. She’s not someone who’s easily ignored.”

“You know what I think your real issue is?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

“You suck at taking help from anyone.”

“I do not.”

I glanced over. The big guy frowned at Billie. “Do I need to remind you of the ridiculous interest rate you paid on your loan to open this place?”

“No, I think the other six-hundred-and-thirty-seven times you’ve reminded me so far is more than sufficient.”

“Could have been interest free from me.”

“I didn’t want to risk your money.”

“You’re one of the most sought-after artists in a city of eight-million people, and it’s trendy for people from all walks of life to get ink these days. It wasn’t a risk.”

Billie shrugged. “Whatever. There’s nothing wrong with doing things for yourself.”

“I agree. But there’s also nothing wrong with taking a little help from people who love you once in a while.”

“I’ll think about it. Now rub my neck more.”

I lost track of their conversation after that, probably because it was driving me nuts that some dude was touching her, so I needed to drown them out altogether. Twenty minutes later, I was pretty sure I’d found the culprit of the AC break down. Two old, yellow wires in the thermostat were practically shredded and no longer connected. Since those were usually the wires for the cooling, I hoped a quick rewire might solve the problem. Luckily the toolbox had a spool with some copper wire, so after I stripped back the rubber casing with a wire stripper, I figured I’d let Billie know what was going on.

Another guy had just come into the shop. He walked right over to Billie, grabbed both of her cheeks, and planted a big kiss on her lips. My jaw flexed. But then the dude strolled to Deek and kissed him on the lips, too. He also rubbed Deek’s arm. “Are you ready to go? I’m not paying the late charge for doggy daycare anymore because you have to stick around work and gossip like a bitch.”

Deek rolled his eyes. “It’s ten bucks.”

The guy put his hands on his hips. “It’s ten dollars I could be putting in the Botox-fund jar.”

Billie chuckled. “Goodnight, boys.” She yelled toward the lobby, “You go home, too, Justine! Lock up on your way out, okay, babe?”

“Will do! ’Night, Billie!”

The two men bickered some more as they walked out of the shop. Billie watched with a smile on her face before turning back to me. “What’s going on, Daddy-O? Did you fix Kaiden? Actually, maybe we need another name for that unit. Because Kaiden isn’t fixable.”

I smiled and held up the wires. “I think I might’ve found the problem. Won’t know until I rewire the thermostat, but these don’t look too good.”

“Alright, awesome. Because if it’s not fixed very soon, I might be peeling these jeans off and walking around in my underwear. They’re stuck to my legs.” She fanned herself. “I can’t take the heat.”

“Well, on second thought, maybe I don’t know how to fix it.” I smiled. “You want a hand with those pants?”

She laughed. “I’m an angry person when I’m hot. That first night you were here, I wasn’t even warm. So you might want to get that repair done.”

My mood had definitely improved after finding out Deek wasn’t interested in Billie. Now that it was just the two of us, she followed me to the back and sat down on the floor next to my toolbox.

“So what do you do all day, Mr. Landlord? You wear a suit. Are you in real estate as your full-time job?”

I started to twist the new wires to connect them to the old as we talked. “Nope. I’m an architect.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s an architect.”

I grinned. “Is it as exciting as you imagined?”

Billie laughed. “Definitely more.”

After the first wire was connected, I started to twist the second one, but when I touched the ends together, they sparked, and I got a little shock. Then all the lights went off. “Crap,” I groaned. “I blew a circuit.”

There were no windows in the back of the studio, so it was pitch dark. I couldn’t even see Billie.

“What can I do?” she said.

“Nothing. Hang on. I think there’s a flashlight in the toolbox.” Kneeling, I reached over to where I thought the toolbox was sitting.

“Ummm…” came her voice in the dark. “That’s not a flashlight. That’s a boob.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

She laughed. “Why do I have a feeling you’re really not?”

“Is someone projecting her fantasies on me?” I teased. “You know, when someone jumps the gun to accuse someone else, it’s probably because they’re guilty themselves.”

“So it’s me who isn’t sorry you just felt me up?”

“Look, I get it,” I continued. “I’m a good-looking guy, and you have needs. No judgment here. If you want, I’ll do it again—for your benefit, of course.”

“I think that little shock you took before the lights went out short-circuited your brain, Mr. Landlord.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

Billie cracked up. “Did you just quote Hamlet to justify touching my boob?”

I finally pulled the flashlight from my box and held it up to my chin to light my face. “I took Saylor to Shakespeare in the Park last month. We both fell asleep on the grass. I think that might be one of the few lines I heard.”

“I think I have some candles in my supply drawer,” Billie said, struggling to her feet. “Can you walk with me to light the way?”

I followed her with the flashlight as Billie dug three candles out and placed them all around the studio. While she was lighting the last one, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked in the soft glow. I wasn’t sure when I’d turned into such a wuss, but I wanted to take her out to a nice dinner with candles in the worst way.

She caught me staring and gave me a look. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Where’s your electric panel? We obviously need a reset.”

“It’s in the bathroom. Don’t ask me why they put it there.”

When I opened the panel, I was surprised to find actual fuses. I was able to reset the front lights in the reception area, but the ones in the back wouldn’t go on. I unscrewed one of the corresponding fuses and checked it out. “It’s blown. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

Billie shook her head. “Umm…no. Half the time I don’t have lightbulbs, and I’ve run a few doors down to Chipotle more than once to steal napkins when we ran out of toilet paper.”

I dug my phone out of my pocket. “Let me call Owen. His office is next to the new Home Depot that just opened. If he’s still there, he can pick one up on his way home.”

When I reached him, Owen had just walked into his office, so I’d caught him in time. That left Billie and me with nothing to do but sit around in the dark and wait for him to get back. But I was melting in these work clothes. “Owen should be here with the part in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, I have to take off this dress shirt. I’m roasting.”

“I have no idea how you’ve worn it this long,” Billie said.

After I shed a layer, Billie went to sit in her tattoo chair. I sat in the one across from her. “So, how did you get into tattooing?” I asked.

“I was showing a few pieces of my art at a gallery when I was eighteen, and a tatted guy bought one of my pieces. He asked me about my plans for the future, and when I said I wasn’t sure, he asked if I was squeamish. I said no, and he gave me his business card and told me to drop by. He said he would let me shadow him, if I wanted, to see if tattooing might be something I was interested in.”

She smiled. “My mother was so pissed. She owns the gallery and was trying to push me to go to college to be a curator like her. Honestly, that’s probably why I stopped by the guy’s tattoo parlor the next day. My favorite pastime as a teenager was riling up my mother. I still kind of enjoy it, actually… Anyway, I was mesmerized by the colorful work Devin did, and within a month, I’d started working as a receptionist for him so I could learn the business. Eventually he let me train under him as an apprentice.”

“That’s pretty cool. So you were basically discovered?”

“I never thought of it that way.” She laughed and shrugged. “But I guess so. Although my mother would say Devin hired me to look at my ass, not because I had any talent.”

I frowned. “That’s not very encouraging. Was there a reason she thought that? Like, did the guy ever hit on you?”

Billie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Devin’s like a father to me. And he’s been happily married as many years as I’ve been alive. My mother just hates what I do for a living.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t consider it art. Only paintings that hang in a gallery and sell for six figures are worthy of Renee Holland’s time. She calls my work ‘a waste of talent drawing obscenities’.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’d rather look at your art book than walk around MOMA any day of the week.”

She smiled. “Thank you. She’s been bugging me to show some of my art at an exhibit she’s planning. It’s sort of a good opportunity, because there will be a lot of reviewers from magazines that people who like my kind of art read. But I’m not sure I want to do it, because I hate the thought of owing her anything.”

“You know the old saying, ‘don’t cut off your nose to spite your face’? Sometimes in life you just need to suck it up if it helps you get where you want to be.”

Billie was quiet a minute. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe I’ll think about it some more.”

Eventually, Owen showed up with the part I needed, but since he had to relieve my sitter in a few minutes, he couldn’t stay. Billie and I were once again alone.

“Alright. I’m going to go plug this baby in, and hopefully we’ll get the lights back on,” I told her.

“You go ahead.” Billie groaned. “I’m too hot to move.”

Ten minutes later, the lights flickered back on. When I turned around, Billie was lying back in her tattoo chair. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, exactly the way I’d pictured her in my dreams. And that sent my mind reeling about fucking her on the chair. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Umm…check me out much?” Billie laughed as she sat up.

“No, I wasn’t… I was just thinking about the wiring.”

She swung her legs up and hopped down. Smiling, she strutted toward me. “You are so full of shit.”

“I am not.”

She stood right in front of me and raised a brow. “Look into my eyes and tell me you weren’t just thinking some dirty thought about me.”

My gaze shifted back and forth between her eyes. I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Then I opened my mouth once again, but nothing came out.

Billie laughed. “It’s okay. You just have to own it when you get caught.” She ran a fingernail down my arm. “I mean, you didn’t notice me noticing all these muscles while you were busy looking at me. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d look like this under your stuffy dress shirts. But if you had caught me looking, I’d have owned it. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating someone’s physique. It’s just creepy when you lie about it.”

Well, if that’s how she feels… I looked down. Since she was so short and standing so close, I had a straight view of her phenomenal cleavage. I grinned. “In case you’re wondering, I’m looking. I admit it.”

Billie laughed again and shoved at my chest. “You’re such a dork. Now fix my AC before I die of heat exhaustion, Mr. Landlord.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A half hour later, I finally got the AC blowing cold air. I hated to leave, but I really needed to go make my daughter dinner. So I collected the tools and packed them into the toolbox. “I have to get upstairs and feed Saylor.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Thank you for coming to my rescue. The old landlord would’ve taken four days to return my call. I appreciate the fast response.”

“No problem. Why don’t I give you my cell number, just in case it gives you any more problems?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Billie handed me her phone, and I punched in my number and handed it back to her. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too, Colby.”

It had been a good couple of hours together, some flirting even. So while I knew she’d just come out of a relationship, I said fuck it. “Hey, would you want to have dinner sometime?”

Billie smiled sadly and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”

Ugh. Talk about a kick in the gut. But like she’d told me to, I owned it. I forced a smile. “Well, that sucks.”

She smiled back. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.”

“It’s not?”

She shook her head.

“Well, if it’s not me, I guess it would be okay if I tried again another time?”

She laughed. “Goodnight, Colby.”

“See you soon, Billie.”