Chapter 8 Knox
KNOX
The tattoo shop is bright and airy and, as promised, appears clean. All good signs, but tell that to the nervous energy coursing through my veins.
l know next to nothing about the woman who’s about to make her mark on my body—literally.
Tink was remarkably tight-lipped on the walk over, refusing to give even a hint of what she has in store for me.
Probably because she used up all her energy convincing her friends I’m not going to turn her into a skin suit.
“So many options,” she muses, admiring the designs that paper the far wall of the studio. She taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “How am I ever going to choose?”
Carefully, I hope. “Let’s just keep it PG-13, okay? And nothing offensive.”
A throaty laugh bursts from her lips, and she pats my biceps. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re regretting your life choices.”
“Only one.” I shrug. “But I’m a man of my word.”
She looks up at me from under her lashes, all traces of amusement gone. “That’s an admirable quality. It sounds like your parents raised you right.”
The words land like a blow. For her, it’s a throwaway observation. For me, it’s a reminder of all I’ve lost. Fortunately, I’m saved from replying when one of the tattoo artists looks up.
“Hey, you looking to get some ink?”
I nod. “Yeah. If you’ve got time for a walk-in.”
“I’m almost done here.” He gestures to a large binder on the front desk. “Design book is there, unless you’ve already got an idea. I should be able to get you in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.” Tink makes a beeline for the design book. She grabs it off the counter and settles into a plastic chair in the waiting area.
To avoid crowding her, I take the seat opposite. “Happy to give a second opinion, if you need one.”
That throaty laugh bursts from her lips, and I find myself smiling right along with her. She’s got a nice laugh. It’s rich and smoky, and just like a shot of whiskey, it goes straight to my head.
I’d do unholy things just to hear her laugh one more time.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She nudges my foot with the toe of her sandal. Her coverup shifts, revealing a swath of soft-looking skin that threatens to derail my focus. “Besides, letting you peek would completely ruin the surprise.”
“I’ll be surprised when you tell me,” I deadpan, pulling my gaze from her shapely legs. “But I can’t guarantee it will be a good surprise.”
She snorts and immediately slaps a hand over her mouth.
This girl.
I study her as she flips through the book, her brows pinched together in concentration.
At least she’s taking it seriously.
The shop assistant appears from the back and brings me a tablet with the required forms. It’s basically a big-ass waiver that says the studio isn’t responsible for anything, including satisfaction.
It’s hardly reassuring, but some people are impossible to please, so I take it with a grain of salt.
When I’m done signing my skin away, Tink pops up and asks for a waiver.
The fuck? “You’re getting a tattoo?”
She stares at me for a long moment, as if mulling it over, before slowly nodding.
“Are you sure?” That was hardly a rousing confirmation, and this shit is permanent.
Says the guy who’s about to get a tattoo of God only knows what.
Tink sets her jaw, and nods again, more firmly this time. “Yes, I’m sure. Just a small one.”
“I definitely did not see this coming.” But it’s the perfect in, and I’m not about to let it pass. “Do I get to choose the design?”
“No.”
Damn. There was zero hesitation this time. “Why not? I’m letting you choose mine.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t let that gorgeous smile out to play. “I trust me more.” She shrugs. “Plus, I didn’t lose the bet.”
I clutch my chest in mock horror. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”
She cocks her head, feigning confusion. “I think I just did.”
The assistant hands her the tablet with a fresh set of forms, and she returns to her seat.
“Since you won, as you’ve so brutally pointed out, why even get a tattoo?”
At the time of the bet, I was sure she only threw it out because she was certain she’d win. Never in a million years would I have guessed that she’d voluntarily join me on this unhinged adventure.
She chews her lip, looking thoughtful. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but there are still so many people who make appearance-based value judgements. I didn’t want to limit my future prospects.”
Future prospects? What, is she planning to run for office? More importantly….
“What about my future prospects?”
She bites her lip again, then she squares her shoulders. “You’re a big boy. You could have declined the bet.”
Yeah-fucking-right. I was all-in the instant she threw down the gauntlet. There was no scenario where I was going to walk away from this woman.
She finishes filling out the form and, once the tattoo artist has cleaned and sterilized his station, he invites us back to his chair.
“Hey, man. I’m Eric.” He’s a young guy, probably only a few years older than us, and he radiates confidence. Thank Christ. “What did you have in mind?”
I gesture to Tink. “Whatever she picked.”
“For real?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “What? You lose a bet?
I scrub a hand over my face, fighting a blush. “How’d you guess?”
“I see it all the time.” He turns to Tink and rubs his hands together. “Let me see what you chose so we can determine the best placement.”
She opens the design book and points, careful to prevent me from peeking. “This one's for him.” She flips the page. “I’d like the birds in flight.”
Eric smirks and turns back to me. “Where do you want it, amigo?”
Talk about a loaded question. “I’m probably going to regret this, but since I don’t know what I’m dealing with, just put it on my ass. At least then it will be hidden 95 percent of the time.”
Tink’s eyes go wide, and my momentary embarrassment is nothing compared to the crimson flush that stains her cheeks. It spreads down the column of her neck and disappears into the collar of her coverup.
“Don’t get shy now,” I tease. “This is your deal. You have to check the placement.”
“I can get you a mirror to view it before we start,” Eric offers.
No way I’m letting Tink off that easy. After all, this was her idea. “Nah. I don’t want to see it until it’s done. I want to be surprised,” I add, winking at my co-conspirator.
“Fine.” Her voice cracks just enough to suggest it’s anything but fine. “It’s no big deal. I’ve seen plenty of butts.”
“Sweet.” I roll my shoulders, pretending to be hyped. “Let’s do this.”
Eric gestures for me to lie face down in the chair, and as I do, he points to the next station. “Nita is on break, but she’ll be back soon. She can do your ink, if that’s cool?”
Tink must nod because Eric turns his attention back to me, and I drop trou.
He does his thing back there, and before I know it, Tink is giving him the green light to start tattooing. There’s a quiet buzz, and I don’t have time to so much as blink before the needle pierces my left ass cheek.
Fuck. My entire body goes taut because damn, that hurts like a mother.
“Try not to clench,” Eric says, adding a whole other layer of awkward to the process. “It’ll only make it hurt more.”
Words of wisdom.
“Are you okay?” Tink asks, her voice laced with concern.
“It’s all good.” Total lie, but I’m not going to bitch about the pain. It would just make her feel bad. She’s right; I made my choice and now I need to face the consequences. “Just surprised me there for a second.”
Who knew getting ink would feel like getting stung a thousand times in a row?
Only everyone who’s ever done it, dumbass.
I close my eyes and try to think about hockey, training camp, and the fact that I’m going to be the newbie when I get to San Jose. I’d never admit it to the guys, but I’m nervous as hell.
I’ve gotten used to being in the spotlight at Waverly, but only time will tell if it’s adequately prepared me for the NHL.
The one thing I know for sure is that I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for Coach.
He’s been like a father to me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever have the means to pay him back for all he’s given me over the years.
“Oh!”
The pained yelp slices through my thoughts like a blade, and my eyes snap open. “How you doing over there, Tink?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” she asks through what sounds like gritted teeth.
“Because you never told me your name, and you remind me of Tinkerbell.” I smirk. “Be glad I didn’t win the bet, or you’d be getting that fairy permanently tattooed on your body.”
She laughs, but it sounds forced.
Keep her talking. It’ll distract her from the pain.
“What made you choose the birds?”
She’s quiet for so long, I’m not sure she heard me. I’m about to ask again when she finally speaks.
“It’s probably stupid, but I just finished my master’s degree and I figured it would be a reminder to take flight. To not let anything hold me back as I start the next chapter of my life.”
Her answer is…surprisingly deep. Especially since she had no intention of getting a tattoo before we walked through the door.
“It’s not stupid at all.” I lift my head to look at her. “I actually think it sounds pretty awesome. Congrats on the new degree.”
“Thanks.” She grins. “I guess you’ll have to come up with a creative meaning for your tattoo later.”
“Or maybe I’ll keep it simple and say a beautiful woman chose it for me.”
She ducks her chin, seemingly embarrassed by the compliment, and we lapse into silence.
Despite starting after me, Tink is done first. She lifts her hair to show me the tattoo, which is on the back of her neck, just below the hairline.
“Excellent choice.” The art is simple and elegant. Classic. “It suits you.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She stares at her reflection in the mirror. “And no one will see it unless I want them to.”
“If that was the goal, you could’ve just gotten it on your ass like me.”
It probably would’ve hurt less, too.
She straightens. “That reminds me. You said your tattoo would be covered 95 percent of the time. What about the other 5 percent? Are you a nudist or something?”
I should explain, give her a rational answer. But I don’t want rational. I want passion and heat and Tink screaming my name as she shatters beneath me.
“Come back to my hotel room and find out.”
She bites her lip, and what I wouldn’t give to know what she’s thinking.
Probably that she can’t believe you just propositioned her in front of two strangers.
The tattoo artists seem unfazed. I doubt it’s the first time they’ve witnessed such a thing.
Tink’s gaze darts to Eric. “You may feel differently when you see your new tattoo.”
No way. I want this girl too much to be dissuaded by ink. Besides, I may not know her well, but I know that whatever design she picked will be tasteful.
Or, as tasteful as art can be when it’s inked on your ass.
Finally, the tattoo gun falls silent. Anticipation creeps up my spine, and an eternity passes while Eric cleans up his work. When he finally hands me a mirror and tells me to check out my new ink, I’m beyond ready.
I don’t have the first clue what Tink might have chosen. Her favorite sports team? A geometric shape? A dragon? That would be cool as hell.
I go to the wall mirror and angle the hand-held to get a look at my new tattoo.
Moment of truth.
Holy shit. That can’t be right. I narrow my eyes, but the image remains unchanged. It’s a flamingo. A pink flamingo.
There is a large pink flamingo on my left ass cheek.
I shake my head. The guys are never going to let me live this down.
Hell, I’m not going to let me live this down.
Tink watches me, face guileless. “What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been bested by a very smart, very beautiful woman.”
And it only makes me want her more.