He straightened, raising his brows in surprise. “Yes, ma’am.”
After setting his soda bottle on top of the brick wall, he crouched down on one knee and got to work tying her laces. The dark ink of his tattoos was in complete contrast to the pink sparkles of her tutu. I wasn’t the only one paying attention to his skin as Grace pointed to his arm, her chin tucked in and belly poking out as she watched him.
“Did you draw dem?” she asked, her little brow pinched in concentration as she eyed the tattoos.
He finished the knot and then looked at his arm, still crouched at her level. “Nah, I’m not that good at drawing.”
“Did Willy draw dem?”
Dean pointed to me from over his shoulder. “Her?”
Grace nodded, sticking her thumb in her mouth.
He shook his head, smiling a little. “They’re tattoos.”
“Wike the sticky ones in the Miss Martha boxes?” Grace beamed. “My mommy says I can’t use dem because it itches. I can put them on my dolly though.”
“I have no idea who Miss Martha is, but I’m gonna guess it’s a cereal box with temporary tattoos?” A glance back at me for confirmation.
I nodded, remembering the time I babysat Grace and she spent an hour applying the temporary tattoos of flowers and bunnies to my arms with a damp cloth.
Dean turned back to Grace and continued with a chuckle. “Miss Martha sounds way nicer than the big, hairy man who drew these on with a needle.”
Grace’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Did it hurt?”
“Some of them. Especially this one.” He pointed to the snake that coiled around the entirety of his left arm.
Grace’s mouth formed an O as she looked at it, and then she scanned the others that were visible and pointed to the crown on the back of his right hand. “I wike that one.”
“Well, I like your tutu.” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head back. “I bet it’s your best twirlin’ one, amirite?”
“Yes! I show you!” Excitement lit her eyes as she grabbed his hand and lifted it above her head, wrapping her small fingers around one of his before she spun around on her tiptoes. The glitter and sequins decorating the hem of the layers, glinted in the sunlight as the tutu spun with her. My heart fluttered as much as the rippling pleats in the skirt. Seeing this side of Dean, compared to his usual, stand-offish demeanor, was endearing.
Grace came to a stop, giggling as she teetered dizzily on her feet but held on firmly to Dean’s hand. “I fink I need to stop now.”
“That was some very nice twirlin’,” he said, offering up his other hand in case she needed both to hold on to.
The shrill voice of Grace’s mom called from where she stood on the edge of the mingling guests, motioning quickly for her daughter to go to her while eyeing Dean with a look of disgust. Mom was standing beside her, murmuring something into her ear.
I would’ve been more annoyed by their judgemental stares if Grace hadn’t sprinted off toward them, yelling at the top of her lungs, “I want tattoos like his, Mommy!”
“You know,” I began quietly, toeing at the grass. “For a guy who beats people up for a living, you are kind of a softy.”
Dean straightened to his full height. That neutral expression had returned to his face as he drew his attention from the two mothers, and crossed his arms. “You kiddin’? Imagine what she would’ve done if I said no. Toddlers scare the shit outta me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and I couldn’t help the hesitant grin that spread to my own as I looked away again.
“Fuck sake,” Dean muttered.
I was shocked by the sudden change in his mood until I realized it wasn't directed at me, but past me, to where Oliver was standing awkwardly nearby. Another drink in hand as he waited alone, clearly wanting to talk from the way he kept glancing over.
“Did you want me to get rid of him?” Dean murmured. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he kept them on Oliver.
I shook my head. “I should talk to him.”
Dean nodded once, finally releasing Oliver from that icy stare as he left my side. It wasn’t until he was completely out of earshot, moving through the guests unbothered by their stares, that Oliver approached me.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what was to come as I offered him a small smile. “Hi—”
