I nod. “Yeah. If you’ve got time for a walk-in.”
“I’m almost done here.” He gestures to a large binder on the front desk. “Design book is there, unless you’ve already got an idea. I should be able to get you in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.” Tink makes a beeline for the design book. She grabs it off the counter and settles into a plastic chair in the waiting area.
To avoid crowding her, I take the seat opposite. “Happy to give a second opinion, if you need one.”
That throaty laugh bursts from her lips, and I find myself smiling right along with her. She’s got a nice laugh. It’s rich and smoky, and just like a shot of whiskey, it goes straight to my head.
I’d do unholy things just to hear her laugh one more time.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She nudges my foot with the toe of her sandal. Her coverup shifts, revealing a swath of soft-looking skin that threatens to derail my focus. “Besides, letting you peek would completely ruin the surprise.”
“I’ll be surprised when you tell me,” I deadpan, pulling my gaze from her shapely legs. “But I can’t guarantee it will be a good surprise.”
She snorts and immediately slaps a hand over her mouth.
This girl.
I study her as she flips through the book, her brows pinched together in concentration.
At least she’s taking it seriously.
The shop assistant appears from the back and brings me atablet with the required forms. It’s basically a big-ass waiver that says the studio isn’t responsible for anything, including satisfaction.
It’s hardly reassuring, but some people are impossible to please, so I take it with a grain of salt.
When I’m done signing my skin away, Tink pops up and asks for a waiver.
The fuck?“You’re getting a tattoo?”
She stares at me for a long moment, as if mulling it over, before slowly nodding.
“Are you sure?” That was hardly a rousing confirmation, and this shit is permanent.
Says the guy who’s about to get a tattoo of God only knows what.
Tink sets her jaw, and nods again, more firmly this time. “Yes, I’m sure. Just a small one.”
“I definitely did not see this coming.” But it’s the perfect in, and I’m not about to let it pass. “Do I get to choose the design?”
“No.”
Damn. There was zero hesitation this time. “Why not? I’m letting you choose mine.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t let that gorgeous smile out to play. “I trust me more.” She shrugs. “Plus, I didn’t lose the bet.”
I clutch my chest in mock horror. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”
She cocks her head, feigning confusion. “I think I just did.”
The assistant hands her the tablet with a fresh set of forms, and she returns to her seat.
“Since you won, as you’ve so brutally pointed out, why even get a tattoo?”
At the time of the bet, I was sure she only threw it out because she was certain she’d win. Never in a million years would I have guessed that she’d voluntarily join me on this unhinged adventure.
She chews her lip, looking thoughtful. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but there are still so many people who make appearance-based value judgements. I didn’t want to limit my future prospects.”
