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“You’re welcome to wait.”
I study her.
She’s doing a decent job of looking indifferent, but I caught enough yesterday to know she isn’t immune to me. That knowledge makes the whole situation more entertaining than it probably should.
Besides, I’ve seen her work.
The recommendation came from enough people that I looked up Black Fern before booking, and whoever runs their social media has posted several of Ruby’s pieces. Detailed florals. Fine black lines. Color that looks painted into skin instead of sitting on top of it. A full sleeve with branches winding through an older scar caught my attention long enough that I saved the image.
I didn’t know the artist was my neighbor.
I push away from the counter. “I’ll risk it.”
Ruby’s mouth tightens. “Very brave of you.”
“I’m told I have poor judgment.”
“You’ve made that very clear.”
Nell makes a suspicious choking sound behind the desk that might be a laugh.
Ruby ignores her and motions for me to follow. “Come on.”
Her station is near one of the tall side windows. It’s organized without looking sterile, with a tablet, sketchbooks, pencils, reference books, and several small, framed drawings tucked along a shelf. A trailing plant hangs near the window, because apparently even her work area has to reinforce the woodland-fairy thing.
Ruby catches me looking around. “What?”
“I don’t remember this place being a jungle before I left. Did you bring all these with you?”
She pulls out a chair for me. “Sit down before I change my mind.”
I sit, and she takes the chair across from me and reaches for a tablet. Professional Ruby arrives so quickly that I almost miss the shift. Her posture changes. Her attention sharpens. Even her voice loses some of the irritation.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Tattoo.”
Her eyes lift.
I grin. “Just making sure we’re starting from the same place.”
“We aren’t if you keep answering like that.”
I settle back. “I want something for the Europe tour.”
“That’s what you put on the consultation form. What does that mean?”
“Something that represents it.”
Her expression tells me I’ve failed already.
“I gathered that much.”
I rub my jaw. “Maybe pieces from the cities. Coordinates. Something with music worked into it.”
“Where do you want it?”
Finally, a question I expected.
