A picture popped up of Brant sitting on a boat with Scrappy standing on his lap. He captioned the photo Our boy’s first haircut! Scrappy looked like a whole new dog, his fur neatly trimmed. They’d left the fur on his head longer, which made it look too big for his tiny body, making him even more adorable. Brant was leaning forward with his face close to Scrappy’s. He wore his baseball cap backward, and the deep-dimpled smile that had been setting her body aflame sent those flurries into a wild frenzy.
“I’ve never seen you so attached to your phone.” Gia, another tattooist and a close friend, leaned over the half wall separating their workstations. She had more tattoos than Cait decorating her light brown skin and enough sass for a city of women. Her mass of corkscrew curls stuck out in all directions, and her pink-painted lips were set in a wide grin as she craned her neck to see what Cait was looking at. “Mm-mm. Who is that fine piece?”
“Just the friend that I told you about who’s watching Scrappy.” Cait started to put her phone away.
“Do not even think about putting that away.” Gia strutted into her workstation, all legs in a skintight gray minidress, and snagged her phone. “Girl, now I see why you like spending time on that rinky-dink island.”
“Yeah, it has nothing to do with my sisters,” Cait said sarcastically.
Aria, another tattooist and friend, walked past with a customer, and Gia said, “Hey, A. You’ve got to see this.” She motioned for the petite and shy tattooed blonde to join them.
Aria sent her customer on his way and hurried into Cait’s work area. “What are we looking at?”
Aria had social anxieties, which made them all protective of her, and she was the most soft-spoken person Cait had ever met, rarely speaking louder than just above a whisper.
Gia showed her Cait’s phone.
Aria’s eyes widened. “Who is that with your dog?”
“The guy she failed to tell us about.” Gia handed Cait her phone and crossed her arms. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.” Cait put her phone away.
“Friends don’t keep hot guys from each other,” Gia pointed out.
“She’s only been back a day,” Aria reminded her. “Maybe she was going to tell us about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Brant is just a friend I met through Abby, and he’s watching the dog. It’s not a big deal.” She hadn’t told any of them about almost drowning, either. If Tank got wind of that, he’d probably send a Dark Knight to watch her twenty-four-seven, and that was the last thing she needed.
“You’re doing that twitchy thing you do when you’re not telling the truth.” Gia nudged Aria. “You see that? Our girl Cait has secrets.”
Tank eyed them from his workstation across from Cait’s, where he was finishing a tattoo on a customer’s leg. He turned off his tattoo gun, reaching for a paper towel, his dark eyes trained on Cait as he lifted his chin. He was a man of few words, and Cait had learned to read his silent messages. The narrowing of his eyes and the serious set of his jaw told her he wanted to know if there was any truth to what Gia had said.
Cait shook her head, knowing he’d see through her half-hearted denial. Sure enough, his eyes narrowed further, and his nostrils flared.
Damn it. Cait pushed to her feet, shooing the girls out of her space. “Get out of here and clean your stations. I don’t have time for this. I have a client at seven.”
“We’re not done with this conversation,” Gia said as she headed back to her area. “You and I are going to have a long talk tonight at the Salty Hog. And don’t even think about ghosting me.”
Tank’s parents owned the Salty Hog restaurant and bar in Harwich Port, not far from the tattoo shop, and they hung out there pretty often after work. She’d agreed to meet Gia there for a drink after work. As per usual, Aria had already turned them down, and Tank couldn’t wait to get home to Leah and the girls.
“Fine. Whatever. Just let me get through my last client and I’ll meet you there.” Cait could use a little downtime. She’d been working nonstop, and she had to do it all over again tomorrow. She began preparing for her next client, and a few minutes later she heard Tank saying goodbye to his client, and then she felt him watching her.
She didn’t turn around as she said, “What?”
She heard him walk behind her, and his heavy arm circled her shoulder. She looked up at his serious face. His pitch-black beard and hair rivaled his dark eyes, making the silver jewelry he wore in his nose, ear, and around his neck seem even brighter.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
His deep, gruff voice used to frighten Cait, but now she found it reassuring. “Not really.”
“That sounds like a yes. Want to talk?”
She shook her head.
He arched a brow.
“How can I talk about something I haven’t figured out yet?” she said sharply.
“That means there’s something to figure out. It’s a good thing I ran a check on that guy. I think I’d better make a visit to the island.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to do that.”
“This is the first time since I’ve known you that you’ve shown interest in any man. I know you can handle yourself, and Rowan assured me that Brant is a great guy, but I’d feel better if I met him and let him know who’s got your back.”
Cait sighed. “How about you don’t? Things are different on the island, Tank. They’re like one big happy family, and I don’t want to screw that up. What will they think if you show up and start threatening people?”
“Who said anything about threatening? Besides, they know how Dark Knights work. Did you forget that your friend Shelley’s son Levi is in the Harborside chapter?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did forget that. But I still don’t want you going all Neanderthal on—” The door to the shop opened, and they both turned as Brant strode in wearing the doggy sling with Scrappy’s little face peering over the top. She got all melty inside, but in the next second, her chest constricted. What the heck was he doing there? This was supposed to be her time away from butterflies and Brant’s all-seeing blue eyes, which were now locked on her. Her body ignited, and “Brant” came out strangled.
Tank rolled his shoulders back, standing up to his full height, and Cait grabbed his shirt, speaking through gritted teeth. “Be nice.”
Cait hurried to the front, her nerves prickling. Brant flashed a smile, and her knees buckled. Damn him. She took his arm and led him back to the door. “What are you doing here?”
“We missed you, too, angel.”
Her stomach fluttered. No fluttering! “Don’t call me that.” She shot a glance at Tank, who was closing the distance between them. “I’m working. Why are you on the Cape?”
“I came to get a tattoo. Don’t worry. I’ve got an appointment for seven o’clock.” His eyes shifted to Tank, and he offered him a hand. “Hi. I’m Brant Remington, a close friend of Cait’s.”
“Tank Wicked.” He shook Brant’s hand. “A closer friend of Cait’s.”
Ohmygod . . .