I grin. “You’re the best friend ever.”
“True,” she says, before adding in a whisper, “Just let me do the talking and act surprised to see Mr. Hottie.”
I suck in a breath and nod, keeping my gaze fixed on the wild, tattoo-inspired art tacked to the walls as we step inside the shop, setting off a tinkling bell that’s barely audible over the punk music pumping through the speakers.
Still, Nick seems to have heard the jingle.
“Be with you in just a second,” he calls over his shoulder, shouting to be heard over the buzzing of the tattoo gun. “Feel free to look through the books.”
“Cool, thanks,” Kitty answers, winking at me before stepping up to the wooden counter where several binders filled with laminated pages of tattoo designs sit next to a thicker binder with “Nick’s Original Work” written in permanent marker on the cover.
With a quick glance at Nick to make sure he hasn’t seen me, I reach for the last binder and flip it open. Inside is page after page of gorgeously drawn and executed tattoos. Aria mentioned that her new husband, Nash, the town Captain of Police and Nick’s oldest brother, is a talented artist.
It must run in the family, because Nick’s work is breathtaking.
He’s done a wide variety of tattoos—everything from a cute little unicorn with a rainbow mane to a giant, scary-looking robot that covered a man’s entire back—but he seems to specialize in animals.
The feathers on his birds are extraordinary and the muscles on his tigers and panthers ripple with life, even in a still picture. But it’s the phoenix on the last page that really catches my attention. Nick used vibrant colors to capture every exotic detail of the mythical creature—turquoise for the scaled patches of skin, lush purples and greens for the feathers, and an orange so bright it looks like he dipped his needle in liquid sunshine for the flames. The expression on the phoenix’s face is equally captivating, somehow managing to be both pained and hopeful, at the same time.
It touches things inside me that I never imagined a tattoo could. It’s truly a beautiful work of art, and suddenly I wonder why I’ve always thought tattoos were tacky.
Nick’s work certainly isn’t.
“Melody?”
Nick’s voice pierces my thoughts, making me aware that the buzzing of the tattoo gun has stopped.
I glance up, meeting his bright green eyes, doing my best not to shiver as a current of electricity leaps between us.
Oh wow…
Something’s…different.
He’s not looking at me like a baby sister tonight.
He looks startled, but also a little…hungry.
I understand that hungry feeling…
And I’m suddenly very glad I decided to wear a scandalous dress.
Very, very glad indeed.
Chapter 2
Melody
“Oh hey, Nick.” I feign surprise to see him, even as my pulse races and I silently decide to invest in a fleet of cleavage dresses if that’s what it takes to make his eyes sparkle like that when he looks at me. “Is this your place?”
“Yeah. Mine, and a buddy of mine. We just opened a few days ago.” Nick lifts a hand to the man in the Harley shirt as he exits the shop, but his gaze never leaves mine. “See you next week, Frank. We’ll get the color finished up in one or two more sessions.”
“Catch you then,” Frank says.
The door tinkles as he steps out onto the sidewalk and Nick leans in, his forearms propped on the counter, close enough that I catch a whiff of his signature smell, that campfire and sage, with a faint overtone of gasoline, scent that always clings to him, hinting at manly activities of various sorts. The one that makes me want to strip off his shirt, press my nose to his bare skin and suck in a deep breath.
“Congratulations,” I say, hoping my lustful thoughts aren’t showing on my face. “Opening your own business. That’s a big deal.”
“Yeah, thanks. We’ll see if we can stay open long enough to get into the black.” He smiles a shy smile I’ve never seen before, a smile that makes my heart swan dive into my stomach and my fingertips ache to touch the dimples popping on his cheeks. “So, what’s up?” he continues, raising a teasing brow. “You’re not thinking about getting a tattoo, are you?”
“I am, actually,” Kitty pipes up. “I’m Kitty.” She extends a hand.
“Sorry, I should have introduced you.” My cheeks heat as I hurry to do the introductions. “Nick, this is Kitty, my best friend since third grade. Kitty, Nick, a friend of mine from work.”
Nick takes Kitty’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Nice to meet you, Kitty. For a second there I thought I was going to have to call Melody’s big sister.”
“Why’s that?” Kitty smiles up at Nick with a look of obvious appreciation, a look I’m not sure I enjoy seeing on my best friend’s face.
I mean, yes, he’s worthy of all the appreciation, but I prefer to be the only one appreciating in my general vicinity.
“Because she’s Melody.” Nick shrugs, as if that says it all.
My blood begins to heat in a way that has nothing to do with attraction.
“If she’d come in here looking for a tattoo,” Nick continues, “I would have had to assume she was either drunk or experiencing some kind of psychotic break.”
He laughs and Kitty, the traitor, has the nerve to join in.
“Either way, I’d have to call Lark,” he says. “John and I are barely breaking even with the shop. I’m going to need my catering job for a while, and Lark would fire me in a hot second if I inked her baby sister.”
“She would not,” I protest.
“You don’t think?” Nick asks in a patronizing tone.
“No, I don’t think,” I snap, though I’m actually not sure what my big sister would do if I came home with a tattoo.
Lark would be surprised, that’s for sure. Aria, our oldest sister, has always been the wild child of our family, and even she hasn’t dared to get a tattoo, just a few piercings Mom fretted about until Aria finally took them out and let the holes heal. I am not a wild child, not even close. I’m the positive, peacemaker of the family. I’m the girl most likely to wear pink chiffon and kitten heels, not red retro pinup dresses or five-inch stilettos like the heavily tattooed girl in the poster tacked onto the wall next to Nick’s tattoo station.
A tattoo would be a significant departure from the norm for me, a bold step in a different direction.
The thought makes my nerve endings sizzle.
“Lark isn’t my mother,” I add, lifting my nose into the air. “And even if she were, I’m twenty-two, almost twenty-three, and more than old enough to make my own decisions.” I grin my own wicked grin. “And I’ve decided I want to get my first tattoo. Tonight.”
Nick’s eyebrows shoot up and Kitty makes a surprised noise, but I don’t turn to look at her, afraid my courage might flag if I meet the eyes of someone who has known me my entire, wholesome, straight-laced life.
“You do?” Nick echoes, disbelief thick in his tone.
“Yes, I do.” I point at the phoenix. “I’d like to get a smaller version of this, please.”