I nodded and shoved a cookie in my mouth.
“What brings you here today, hun? You look tired.”
She could always read me. Franny wasn’t actually related to me, even though I called herGranny. She had been my first grade teacher thirty-plus years ago.
“Problems at Think Ink.”
She gave me a sympathetic frown, and I filled her in on the potential problem. She took a delicate bite of her cookie before setting it down and putting her hand over mine. “Do you remember when I gave you your first sketchbook and pencil set?”
I nodded.
“You were such a tiny little thing. Not big and strong like you are now.”
I felt myself blush under her praise.
“Your parents were letting you run wild, not keeping you fed and loved like you needed. I never could get you to sit still for math or reading, but when you had free time, it was right to the crayons you went.” She laughed at the memory, and I squeezed her hand.
“That sketchbook saved me, you know that?”
She shook her head. “You just needed some kind of outlet for what you were feeling. Something that was all your own, that’s all. You’ve been paying me back for five dollar’s worth of paper and crayons for three decades.”
“It was more than that, Franny, and you know it.”
She took another bite of her cookie. “This tattoo place is just a brick and mortar version of that old sketchbook for you, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how to make sure it stays in business.”
She patted my hand. “Things have a way of working themselves out, and if they don’t, I’ll go to the dollar store and get you another sketchbook.”
I hugged her goodbye and jumped in my truck. I needed to get to Think Ink for a staff meeting about what had happened with the review bombing, and I could see by the clock on mydash that I was going to be late.
I found parking, which was a miracle of its own, and flew through the door of the shop only ten minutes late.
“I’m here, sorry.” I said as I skidded around the corner and into the staff room.
“And last but not least, this is our apprentice, Luke,” Roxy said, gesturing to me, but talking to the woman next to her.
Meredith.
Of all the tattoo parlors in all of Canada…ah, fuck. Somehow I’d pissed off a potential customer, got the shop a shit-kicking in the ratings and the solution to the problem happens to be the only one night stand I couldn’t forget.
I froze. She wore trendier clothes than I had seen her in before. Tight jeans over generous curves, a tight black tank with a hint of cleavage, and a jean jacket. Her dark, shoulder-length hair danced around her face. She looked gorgeous, but I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. What had brought her back to Springwood? What had kept her up last night?
“Good to see you again,” I finally blurted out.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Nova asked around a bite of muffin.
Meredith smirked. “Oh, yes. I met Mr. January here when he was posing for the charity Hunks of Road Ready Mechanics calendar.”
“Wait, what?” Dax asked, shoving my shoulder lightly. “I didn’t realize you were a model.”
I fought back a blush.
Most of the people I knew had seen the calendar by now. Asher ran an after-school club for kids who had nowhere else to go. It was close to all our hearts, but there were never enoughfunds to go around. The calendar sales were helping with that, even if we’d had to strip down to make it happen.
“A diva, too,” Meredith added with a laugh. “I was assisting the photographer on the shoot. Insisted we get hisgood side.”
I shot her a look. “You know my month was the best one… all downhill after January.” One thing that I had loved about Meredith right from when I’d met her was her sense of humor. Getting ready for that calendar shoot—and worrying we wouldn’t raise enough money for those kids—kept stirring up old things from my childhood I thought I’d buried. My parents weren’t what parents should be, but I had Franny. Who did these kids have if not the guys at Road Ready?
