9. Chapter 9
I was lying on my back in the half-reclined tattoo chair. We were twenty minutes in and aside from the initial pain when she started, I loved being under her needle. The sting barely registered now. I’d grown used to it. I was becoming a walking art gallery of her work.
In addition to the lion on my chest, my right arm—which was what we were working on today—had a series of roses and skulls intricately interwoven and blending seamlessly into one another. I didn’t ask to see the designs anymore, giving her free rein.
“Can I ask you something?” I ventured.
“Of course.”
“How do you control the saturation?” I nodded my head toward her hand.
“With a lot of care, a deep understanding of skin anatomy and how it interacts with the ink. Everyone is different, so it’s all about being mindful and adjusting the technique to deliver the best results for each individual client.”
“Interesting, so it’s a lot like dancing then.”
“I suppose so. It’s about finding that perfect rhythm. I’ve always wondered, are you as fluent with other women like you are with Kinsley?”
“You’ve seen me dance with other women. You tell me?”
“Actually, I’ve only seen you dance with one other woman. So if I was basing it on that, then, no.”
Her brow furrowed, and I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but her eyes flashed with confusion, and she spoke again. This time, sarcasm laced her words.
“You know you can wear a vest since we’re only doing your arm. No need to bare your chest for the world to see.” Isabella brought the needle down.
“And deprive Sandra up-front from getting her eye candy.”
“It’s Stephanie. If you’re going to try to get in her pants, probably should get her name right.” She leaned closer, moving the gun carefully and with precision.
I breathed her in deeply. Her scent was as complex as her personality. It was berries and something soft beneath them. Floral maybe. I could never quite place it and was too embarrassed to ask.
We’d had enough weird conversations. I didn’t need to bring flowers into the mix. But it was always the dark cocoa and Chantilly cream combination that made her irresistible. I wanted to fucking nibble on her.
My gaze once more shifted to her face. It was locked in concentration as she inked me. My chest tightened. Things had gotten considerably more complicated since that night in my room. I blamed the list. And speaking of the damned thing.
“So last we spoke, you had nine slots filled. You promised to complete the remaining ones on your own. For accountability purposes where do we stand?”
“I only have a few spots left,” she said, looking confident.
A half-smile played over her lips. She paused to gently wipe the excess ink from my arm. Her expression changed, getting more serious as she looked down. It softened once more, and I bit back the smart-ass remark I was going to say. And I was glad I did.
“I was hoping you could help me with some. I’m fresh out of ideas.”
“Well, seeing as I don’t know which ones you recently added, maybe we should review them.”
“It’s in my bag.” She notched her head and pulled the gun back, allowing me to reach inside. “And can I say I hope the message of the card isn’t an omen? I’m not sure dumpster fire adventures are my thing.”
“It was all I had. You do know you can re-type it,” I teased.
She shrugged. “Nah, just promise me you won’t let it become one and we’ll be good.”
“I hereby promise no dumpster fires. Okay, so let’s see, the new ones are.” I cleared my throat, pausing as I skimmed through them. My eyes froze on numbers five, seven, and twelve. I groaned loudly, startling her.
“Don’t do that. You scared me,” she admonished, hitting my thigh. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m trying to take it all in. Participate in game night? You are aware of how intense those can be, right?”
“I thought it could be a good way to loosen up for you know…number three.”
I shook my head. “If you say so.”
Damn. Hopefully Marcel could talk her out of that one. It was foolish to fuck a stranger. Switching my focus to the other two, I flashed her my most winning smile.
“Now I’m touched deeply by your choice of number seven. Learn to dance.”
“What can I say? You inspired me. Of course, it won’t be anything magical, more like awkward as hell. But if I’m going to make an ass out of myself, at least you love me.” Her face turned crimson, and she stammered as I grinned. “I mean, we’re brother and sister, after all.”
“Except we’re not.”
“You do realize I have a weapon in my hand, right? And with free rein I’m tempted to tattoo that dick on you.
And before you try to offer to model for me, don’t.
It’ll only piss me off more,” she rushed on as I opened my mouth.
“I’ll make it a micro-peen and put a tiny ‘free use’ sign hanging off the non-existent tip. ”
I burst out laughing. “I’m teasing you. I know our boundaries. I just meant when we do that whole pretend thing, we will have to shift our thinking a bit.” I turned serious. “I’m proud of number six. I was going to suggest it, but didn’t want to push my luck.”
“Seriously? You always push your luck with me.”
“When it comes to your artwork, I know the depths of it and what it means. I would never tease you about that, ever. But I’ll be honest, I can’t wait to see the piece you enter into the exhibit.”
Her face relaxed, and she nodded. “Hopefully Marcel will be proud of it. I know the girls aren’t allowed to help, but some of them are inspired by them in one way or another.”
“Let me guess, Kinsley’s is game night?”
“Yes.” She flushed, her tongue made a quick appearance, catching my eye. I would have to ensure that I was there that night. No way did I want to miss out on seeing her in that element.
“And Victoria’s?”
“Well, number two honestly has her name written all over it. You know she is almost done with her manuscript. She actually wrote a spicy, second-chance romance with a fantasy twist. Or maybe it’s a fairy-tale retelling. I’ll have to get clarification on that and get back to you.”
“You could always re-enact a scene from it.”
“I’d have to read it first. I’m not sure she’s ready for that.” She frowned, going all serious on me. With her new bangs framing her face, she looked like she was pouting.
“Well, I have a few ideas. I think we could add it would mean an adjustment to item number one.”
“I’m listening.”
She shifted the gun away and set it down. Rolling her shoulders, she gave me the look. We were done for the day. I sighed, then realized her reason was because she had a session with Marcel tonight. She would need to clean up and make sure everything was ready for tomorrow.
“How do you feel about America?”
“As in the United States?” She applied a thin layer of antibiotic ointment and began the wrap up process, still full of concentration.
“Unless you know something I don’t.”
“Why?”
I took a deep breath. She hadn’t shut the idea down, so that was good. “Hear me out. I’m in a bit of a bind. And I think your list is the answer. And technically, you’re not paying me for all the babysitting I’m going to need to do to keep you on track.”
“I’m about to say no. Get to it.” She raised her eyebrows as a warning.
“My buddy Chase is getting married. The entire dance group is invited. I’ve been friends with this guy for years. I’m the best man. I have to go.”
“Okay, that’s understandable. We can postpone some of the items or I’ll get one of the other guys to help me with completing it. Marcel didn’t give me an actual timeline. It doesn’t all have to be done in a week.”
“No, I was thinking you go as my plus one. Hannah will be there. She’s the maid of honor.
This wedding has been years in the making.
They’ve been engaged almost as long as Hannah and I were.
So number one on the list is that whole road trip thing.
Me—you—alone. Pretending to be a couple.
What if we do it for the wedding instead? ”
As I tried to sell the idea, I watched her expression carefully. There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, followed by a thoughtful furrow of her brow. She tilted her head, considering the proposal.
“Look, it was foolish of me to say we were dating. I was only trying to save your ass from the crazy woman.”
“Yeah, but you did, and now she’ll gloat if I show up without you.”
“You know how I am when she is around. I’m not sure it would be a good idea. I’m not out to ruin a wedding and take on that level of bad luck. No, thank you.”
“She’s moved on—”
“Liar.”
“I swear it’s true.”
“Why not take Bunny or Birdie or whatever that club girl’s name is that the guys have been teasing you about?”
“It’s Bambi.” I smirked as she shook her head.
“Even worse. I’m sure Bambi would love to go and be your for real plus one. Just think of all the salacious things the two of you could do.”
“No, she’s still in training, nor would I want to subject her to the level of petty Hannah would dish out. She would be quick to point out what she does for a living.”
“And what does that have to do with anything? Brandi works her ass off, puts in fewer hours, and at least ends every night satisfied. Can Hannah say the same?” She fumed, which was exactly what I knew she’d do and why she was perfect. No one hated Hannah more than her.
“Bambi,” I reminded.
“Brandi sounds better. You say Bambi and I think of the poor deer who lost his mother.” Isabella sighed heavily. “If she’s moved on, then why is she this way?”
“Because she has always made every situation about her. There is no way she wouldn’t pass up a chance to make things uncomfortable. And moving on for her means becoming bitter. Which is better than the emotional mess she was before.”
What is going on behind those eyes? Was she apprehensive about being that far from home?
How could I sell her on the excitement we could have exploring?
Her silence stretched on, and I resisted the urge to say more.
She was always the one who needed time to process new ideas.
If I had to place a bet, I’d say she was making a list of pros and cons already.
“Talk to me. You can say no. I’ll still help you.” I clenched my hands at my sides, fighting the urge to touch her. My arm throbbed now that she was done.
“Okay, but you have to text me two more things for the list. I have an idea for one of the remaining spots, but I’m still weighing it. Might bring it up with Marcel first.”
Her words brought not only a genuine smile to my face, but a rush of thankfulness coursed through my body. It was odd that while Chase and I were close, I’d formed a much deeper bond with the Death Squad. It was a brotherhood.
Facing old friends, some who were pissed about my breakup with Hannah and being in close quarters with her, wouldn’t be easy. Having Isabella by my side would make it easier to manage.
“You’re amazing. Thank you, truly. I’ll have the ideas for you by tonight.”
She nodded. I swung my legs over the chair and stood, stretching. Angling my arm toward the mirror, I eyed today’s additions. When I moved closer, I noticed under one of the existing roses she’d started a new skull, and off to the side, something was taking shape.
She hadn’t completely finished that section, and with the clear wrap, I couldn’t quite make it out.
A portion of the skull’s eyes had something directly flowing off it.
It pulled at me, but I didn’t want to ask outright.
I trusted the process, and it didn’t resemble a micro-peen so I turned back and pulled out my phone. I noticed the time.
“Okay. My appointment with Marcel—”
“Is at seven, right after dinner. I know, Bella. See you at the house.” I pulled her head close, not trusting myself with a full body hug. The sweetest sigh greeted me, and her hand rested on my chest. I kissed the top of her head, since that was about all I was allowed.
“Thanks for everything.” She pulled back and turned to finish cleaning her tattoo gun and station.