Page 93

“You better. You deserve some.”

I take two steps toward the door before glancing back. “You know, you’re sending some very mixed messages.”

His answering grin is slow and devastating. “I should’ve added just not too much.”

“There it is.”

I turn toward the door, but Ollie catches me with a playful swat to my ass. I yelp in surprise, twisting around to glare at him, though the delight spreading across my face ruins the effect.

“Go,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Before I change my mind and make you stay.”

I point a warning finger at him as I back toward the door. “Behave.”

“Not making any promises.”

Pulling the door open to King Tattoo Brooklyn, I'm greeted by the buzz of tattoo machines layered with the low murmur of conversation. An old indie track I recognize plays through the overhead speakers as my gaze sweeps over the leather couches in the waiting area and the artwork covering the dark maroon walls. This is my first time visiting the shop Jax manages and where Soph works, and I instantly understand why they're so proud of the place.

A tall ginger guy greets me from behind the front desk, offering a friendly smile. Sleeves of tattoos climb from his wrists and disappear under a black T-shirt. “Welcome to King Tattoo. How can I help you?”

“Hey, I’m here to have lunch with Soph. Is she busy?”

“She’s getting her stuff from the back,” he says, gesturing to the desk. “I’m Spade, one of the tattoo artists.”

“Oh, hi. Lovely to meet you. I’m Peyton, Ollie’s niece’s nanny,” I introduce myself, assuming this man has met him before. “I mean, I take care of Tilly.”

His smile widens with recognition. “Tilly! I’ve seen what must be hundreds of photos of that little girl.”

“Jax surely loves her,” I comment.

Spade chuckles. “Boss pretends he’s immune, but he shows everyone who walks in here a new picture at least once a day. Yesterday it was her wearing sunglasses that were definitely too big for her head.”

Soph appears around the corner, tote bag slung over her shoulder and phone in hand. “There she is,” my friend announces. “The woman who’s glowing with a capital G. Look at you!”

“Hi to you too,” I say, fully aware of my heating cheeks.

We meet halfway and Soph pulls me into a hug that’s quick but tight. “I’m not really glowing,” I mumble as we pull apart.

“You absolutely are,” she declares. “It’s borderline offensive.”

“It’s called a good moisturizer.”

“It’s called sleeping with your boss. Don’t worry, I know exactly how amazing it feels.”

I choke on air. “Stop it,” I manage hoarsely and dart a quick glance toward the front desk to see if Spade is still in the room. And sure enough, he is, offering me a supportive thumbs up. Awkward.

“Girl, you look like someone who has had life-altering sex and I happen to know that there’s only one guy who would make you a human version of a glow stick,” Soph points out, completely unapologetic.

My face ignites fully. Cheeks, ears, probably my entire chest. If blushing were an Olympic sport, I’d be taking home gold. “You’re impossible.”

“But correct. Come on,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “We’re going to this lovely café around the corner. Jax said we’re not allowed to eat in the shop anymore after someone dropped aioli on his sketchbook.”

“That someone was definitely not me,” Spade calls from the desk.

“It was absolutely you, my friend,” Soph shoots back, steering me toward the door.

I throw him an apologetic wave. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too. Tell Tilly her fan club says hi.”