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I’m getting new ink bottles out when the door to my tattoo station creaks open.

“What is it, Maverick? I’m busy,” I say with a grunt. “Are you so concerned about having to ink a lotus tattoo on that woman that you feel the need to interrupt me?”

“Um, I’m sorry. I don’t know who Maverick is,” says an angelic voice that makes my mouth go dry. “I’m here for the internship? I’m Delilah.”

I swivel on my stool, and it’s a fucking miracle I don’t fall off. This is Delilah? I expected to be met with a girl, not a… woman.

“You’re Keith’s daughter?” I ask.

She nods. “The one and only.”

How is this possible? The last time I saw her was, hell, I don’t even remember. To be honest, I never gave her any attention at all. Never looked at her. Never cared. Why would I?

But now… Goddamn, you better believe I’m letting my eyes roam over her colorful dress that does nothing to hide her juicy curves. A pink blush spreads over her cheeks, accentuating the blue of her eyes. Long, thick curls with lilac highlights fall over her shoulders, and I realize I’m blatantly staring at her.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, patting her hair.

I purse my lips. There sure is. She’s sending blood straight to my cock, but I can’t tell her that. Won’t ever admit that to my best friend’s daughter.

I clear my throat and extend my hand. “I’m Hawk.”

Delilah places her hand in mine, and I swear I hear the air crackle with electricity.

“Nice to meet you, Hawk.”

She looks around the room and nervously clasps her hands together. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to work here? I don’t want to be any trouble. Like that Maverick guy you thought I was.”

I let out a deep laugh. “Maverick’s not trouble. He works here. The guy’s an extraordinary tattoo artist, but he isn’t exactly organized. You’ll meet everyone soon enough.”

She smiles at me. “That’s great to hear. To be honest, Dad arranged this whole thing for me. I didn’t even know about the internship until yesterday. He gave me the news right after I arrived. He was grilling burgers on the barbecue, and then he…”

I grin as she babbles like a madwoman. It’s cute, but I should probably stop her before she talks the day away. I do still intend to teach her. I promised, after all.

“So, about the internship. Shall we go over some basics first?” I ask.

She nods excitedly. “Sounds great. Where do you want me?”

Jesus fucking Christ. Where did that thought come from?

I swallow the hot need building inside me and motion to the corner of the room. “Grab that extra chair.”

Delilah drags the piece of furniture toward my desk and gives me an expectant look.

Right, I’m supposed to teach her.

“Keith said you love drawing designs, is that right?”

She smiles. “It is. I’d love to learn how to draw up exclusive tattoo designs based on loose ideas from clients.”

I explain to her how that process works. She listens intently, firing off questions now and then until I give her an assignment. I’m curious to find out if she’s as talented as my best friend claims.

While she’s working, I can’t help but steal glances at her. The tip of her tongue sticks out of her mouth while her pencil glides over the paper in front of her. Does her tongue feel as soft and warm as it looks? My gaze travels further down as if my eyes have a mind of their own. Her dress has slid off her right shoulder, offering me a mouthwatering view of her exposed collarbone.

I dare a glance even lower, and I wish I hadn’t. Her plump breasts are milky white, their curves promising more than a handful of deliciousness. I shift in my seat to conceal my erection.

“So, Delilah,” I start, attempting to take my mind off how fucking good she looks. “Have you always been this creative?”

She nods without taking her eyes off the paper. “I can’t explain it, but I love to draw. When you see an image that only exists in your head come to life on paper, it’s—”

“Like magic,” I finish her sentence.

She looks up from the desk, surprised. “How did you know?”

I shrug. “Because that’s what it’s like for me. Drawing is my biggest passion. That, and seeing how stoked clients are after I draw my designs on them in permanent tattoo ink. It’s like a drug. I can’t stop doing it.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I hope I get to experience that too.”

“You will, but not right away. Not that I don’t trust you, Delilah, but we should take it slow.”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes lingering on my face longer than necessary. “Taking it slow would be the smartest thing to do.”

Is she flirting with me, or am I imagining things? It’s the latter, no doubt about it. No twenty-three-year-old woman would be interested in a man twice her age.

“Thanks again for wanting to teach me. I think it’s amazing that this whole business is yours,” she says.

I shrug. “I’m in my forties. It’s not that crazy of an achievement.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “How old are you?”

Her question punches me violently in the gut. I know there’s an age difference, but I hoped she saw me as desirable, not some old dude.

“Forty-six,” I say between gritted teeth. “Old, I know.”

Delilah tips her head back and laughs. “That’s not old at all. It’s not like you’re one birthday away from moving into a retirement home.”

“You think so?” I press, wanting her reassurance for some inexplicable reason.

“I do. Seriously, Hawk, you shouldn’t worry. You’re a sexy fox.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, her eyes widen. She quickly returns her attention to the piece of paper in front of her and resumes drawing.

I can’t stop grinning. She thinks I’m a sexy fox, huh? But my enjoyment clouds over as soon as I realize she’s not some random girl. She’s my best friend’s daughter, which means I can’t fall for her. If I did, he’d kill me with his bare hands before I ever got a chance to explain.

Delilah finishes her drawing and shows it to me. I study her design. The lines are clean, the shading precise, and the overall composition solid. She has real talent and skill. This woman is going places with her art, I can tell.

“This is good. You’ve got a natural talent.”

Her face lights up. “You think so?”

“I do, but remember that drawing on paper and tattooing on skin are two different things. For starters, there’s no erase button,” I joke.

“Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

I shrug. “Not anymore. When I first started, sure, but I’ve been doing this for two decades. Do you want to try?”

Her eyes grow wide at my suggestion. “Tattooing?”

“Why not? I’ve got synthetic skin you can practice on.”

I hand her a piece of synthetic skin and a tattoo gun, showing her how to angle it correctly.

“Like this?” she asks, her hands trembling.

I put my hand over her fingers. “Yes, but there’s no need to be this nervous.”

“Don’t be. I get it. The day before I had to do my first real tattoo, I was so afraid I’d mess up that I threw up several times.”

She chuckles. “Oh, wow, that’s bad.”

“I know, but I faced the fear and did it anyway. And if I can do it, so can you.”

Delilah squares her shoulders. “Okay. Where do I start?”

“With some basic lines and shapes. It’s all about getting a feel for the machine and the amount of pressure you need to apply.”

As she starts practicing, I stand close to guide her hand when necessary and to selfishly inhale the scent of vanilla and mango emanating from her skin. What kind of soap does she use? The thought has me picturing her naked, running a bar of soap over her bare thighs and breasts.

“What do you think?” she asks, looking up at me.

She’s so close. I’d only have to lean in a few inches to kiss her.

“It looks promising,” I tell her. “All you need is more practice.”

“And you’ll keep teaching me?”

I should tell her no. Make it clear that I don’t want to cross any boundaries. A smart man would ask one of his employees to teach her instead. Luna could do it, or Maverick or Theo.

It’s the right call. It’s what I should do.

But I don’t because I can’t fucking help myself around this woman.

“I’ll keep teaching you,” I promise her, knowing all too well that I’m digging my own grave by not walking away.

Her father won’t let this slide. But I don’t have a choice. Delilah is too fucking special to walk away from.