“Yeah, maybe. Could you fit her name on me somewhere?”
What? “Eamonn, no!” Nell knew not to move while Ghostflower was sticking the protective wrap over her tattoo, but she twisted her head around as much as she could. “That’s a little too flipping permanent, given how long we’ve known each other, don’t you think?”
He chuckled and came around to where she could see him properly. “You’re part of my story now, Nella-bella, no matter what happens going forward. I want you on my skin. I’m not expecting any promises of forever.”
And that took the breath out of her. It was so much over the top, such a wild romantic gesture far too soon, and yet — I’m not expecting any promises of forever. Why did that sting a little, even as she swallowed a lump in her throat at the sweetness of him saying she was part of his story?
“You can get up now, Nell,” Ghostflower said.
As Nell got to her feet, her lower back protesting movement more than the tattooed shoulder, Ghostflower was already peeling off her purple latex gloves and heading to the sink to wash up before putting on a new pair. Stell from the front desk hurried over to clean and reset the workstation, disinfecting the tattoo machine and sliding a fresh plastic sleeve over it, fitting on a disposable grip, setting out new needle cartridges in sealed blister packs.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Nell muttered.
Stell snickered, not looking up from the job at hand. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Settle down, Stell,” Ghostflower said mildly. She looked Eamonn over. “Shirt off. I’m thinking just under your collarbone, left side? Trust me to freehand it, or you want a stencil?”
He peeled off his shirt and tossed it to Nell, who caught it without thinking. It smelled like him — the body wash and deodorant he used, his skin, a faint tang of clean sweat. Ordinarily, if someone tossed a shirt at her, she’d toss it back or step aside and let it hit the floor, saying I’m not your laundry maid. But she was momentarily entranced by his spectacular bare torso, smooth muscles and ink and the light dusting of golden hair she found so beautiful, and then the moment to act had passed and she was left holding the shirt. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it, but Stell noticed and said, “We got hooks on the wall for that.”
Nell knew she’d missed something while she was hanging up the shirt, because she turned back to see a strange expression on Ghostflower’s face as the artist shaved and disinfected the skin below Eamonn’s left collarbone — affectionate, wistful, and maybe a little worried. They were talking in soft voices and it wasn’t meant to be overheard, but Nell had sharp ears. “You falling in love, Peasy?”
Hearing the answer to that question, whatever it was, couldn’t be good. “I’m going down to the bakery to get another tea,” Nell said in a bright enthusiastic-instructor tone. See? I’m leaving. Please have your awkward conversation while I’m not here. “Does anyone want anything?”
There was no awkwardness later when they all went out for dinner. Ghostflower was kind and friendly, Justin turned out to have a wicked sense of humor, and even though Stell didn’t talk much and was a good decade younger than the rest of them, the apprentice seemed glad to be included and smiled whenever Nell made eye contact. Eamonn sat close to Nell the whole time, often resting a hand on her thigh or wrapping an arm around her waist.
I could get used to this, she thought. His friends were good company. She could imagine her friend Amy fitting in with them too. It all seemed very comfortable and pleasant, and she kept waiting for the bubble to pop, the dream to end.
They stopped for ice cream cones to end the night, and walked back all together to where they’d parked, licking their ice cream in contented pleasure. “Want to try a taste of mine?” Eamonn offered, holding his cone out to Nell — he’d chosen cherry, creamy pink with bits of candied fruit and swirls of jam.
“Sure.” She took a small lick, then held out her lemon ice cream to him, knowing that the tartness of it would make his mouth pucker after the sweet cherry. “Try mine.”
She grinned at the expression on his face when he tasted it.
Ghostflower gave Nell a hug before leaving and Justin shook her hand. Stell waved goodbye from the back seat of Ghostflower’s car, a little flutter of fingertips, and then it was just the two of them, standing in the street next to Eamonn’s truck.
He opened the door for her, and because her back and neck still hurt and her head throbbed a bit and her freshly tattooed shoulder felt tender, she let him help her up into the seat.
“My place okay?” he asked, getting into the driver’s seat.
“I should go home,” Nell countered, though her heart wasn’t in it.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why?”
She didn’t have an answer for that.
“Come on, lovely.” His gaze turned sensual and his voice thickened, dropping into an undeniably sexy tone. “My bed is bigger than yours.”
Why does he have to be so flipping irresistible? An answering tingle of desire flickered over her like lightning, just from the look in his eyes and the promise in his voice. “Don’t know how much fun I’ll be,” she muttered, not wanting to admit to feeling pain, but not sure how much in the way of mattress gymnastics she could take.
He stifled a groan, but she still heard it. “You know I’m happy just to hold you,” he said ruefully. He bit his lip, breathed out slowly. And that little demonstration of self-control set her fizzing like the fuse of a Roman candle — burning toward an explosion, no stopping what was started.
“I want
