“Yeah. Sure,” Tate says. “But I like Iris a lot.”
“Thanks,” Iris says in reply. “I like you too.”
I nearly roll my eyes but keep that locked down so I don’t get another death glare from across the table. I know it’s time to change the subject.
“What are my favorite nieces doing tonight?” I ask.
“Baking cupcakes with Ma.” Tate sighs as she leans back into her chair and against Wylder’s arm. “Well, probably eating more than baking, but same thing.”
“That would be the best way to spend the evening as a kid,” Iris states, and that’s no lie.
Some of my best memories from childhood are of the three of us baking late into the night as Tilly tried new recipes and flavor combos for the store while Dad worked at the bar. I was a happy little taste tester for her creativity.
“Hell, it’s a great way to spend the evening as an adult too,” Tate says. “I should’ve become a baker instead of opening a tattoo shop.”
“You can’t bake worth shit,” I tell her, remembering the last cupcake she made that disintegrated in my palm like a pile of sand. “Tattooing is your calling.”
“I’m not that bad.”
I raise an eyebrow.
She chuffs and mutters, “Fine. I am that bad.”
“How did you get into tattooing?” Iris asks her.
“My family owns a shop in Florida, and I spent a lot of time there. I fell in love with everything about it every time I visited.”
Her visits usually involved running from someone and hiding to keep herself breathing, but she leaves that bit out. I guess, in the end, it all worked out. If that hadn’t happened, who knows what she’d be doing now, but working at Tilly’s bakery wouldn’t have been her final destination because, again…she’s awful at baking.
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“Do you have any tattoos?” Tate asks Iris.
I let my eyes roam over her exposed flesh, but I see nothing.
“One, but it’s hidden.”
I suddenly have the urge to strip her bare to see exactly where it is.
“What is it?” Tate asks.
“It’s stupid. A mistake I made when I was eighteen, but since I can’t see it every day, I sometimes forget it’s there.”
That narrows down the location, and suddenly, my goal is to find out where it is.
“I can do a cover-up if you want, or someone else at the shop can. You shouldn’t have something on your skin you don’t absolutely love. Maybe it’s time for a change,” Tate says before taking a sip of her soda, and somehow doing it so quietly, I can’t hear it.
“Maybe I will,” Iris says.
That limits my time. I want to see the before. I want to find it. I want to know all the parts of her from before I met her, and finding that tattoo is first up on my list of plans for my time with Iris.
10
IRIS
Brax’s placeis nothing how I imagined. I don’t know why I thought it would have bare walls with very little furniture. Most men I know aren’t into having much around their living space, but that is mostly from the lack of creativity and design knowledge.
“Wow,” I say as I pull off my winter boots, leaving them on the rug near the door. “This is…” I’m at a loss for words, really.
