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“Depends on where the final design lands, but probably two.”
I stand and glance at her. “So we’re going to be spending quality time together.”
“We’re going to be maintaining a professional artist-client relationship.”
“While sharing a wall and occasionally fighting about my music?”
“If necessary.”
I smile. “This should go well.”
Ruby rises and starts gathering her things. “Don’t forget, I’m the one holding the needle.”
That should probably sound threatening, but instead I catch myself watching her mouth again. “I’ll behave.”
She holds my gaze for another second, clearly not buying it.
By the time I leave Black Fern, I’ve committed to several hours under a tattoo machine operated by the woman who threatened my amplifier less than forty-eight hours ago.
And I’m surprisingly okay with giving her another excuse to get that close to me.
I let myself into Mom and Dad’s house and kick the door shut behind me. Something savory is roasting in the kitchen, and after six months in Europe, I’m still not over how good it is to come home to Mom’s cooking.
Voices drift in from the living room, so I head that way.
I find Briar curled into the corner of the couch with one hand resting over her stomach and her feet propped on Lachlin’s thigh. Beside her, my older brother has the same alert look he gets before bad weather or a Coast Guard call, only this time he’s watching Briar like she could go into labor at any second.
Conlin is settled into the chair across from the couch with a beer in one hand. I drop into the empty chair nearby, but I’m only half listening to whatever Lachlin is saying because my mind keeps drifting back to Black Fern.
After a minute, Conlin looks over. “What’s up with you? You seem distracted.”
I glance at him. “Do I?”
“A little.”
“I’ve been here ten seconds, and you’re already giving me shit.”
“Yeah, and I’ve known you twenty-seven years, so I know when you’ve got something on your mind.”
Briar smiles from the couch. “He has a point.”
I drop into the other chair. “I’m surrounded by people who pay way too much attention to me.”
“That’s what family’s for,” Conlin says, taking another drink.
Before I can answer, Lachlin reaches for Briar’s water glass. “You want me to top this off?”
She looks down at the glass, which is still three-quarters full, then back at him. “I think I’m safe for a while.”
Conlin takes a drink of his beer, clearly enjoying himself. “He keeps offering her water like dehydration is going to sneak up on her if he stops paying attention for five minutes.”
Lachlin settles the glass back on the table. “You two are going to be unbearable when this baby gets here.”
“We’ve been unbearable for years,” Conlin says. “The baby just gives us new material.”
Briar laughs, and Lachlin gives both of us the same look he’s been giving us since we were kids, and he realized being the oldest didn’t mean we had to listen to him.
Briar catches my eye and smiles.
