She has no idea. No idea that in wearing my art she’s wearing my heart.
The kittens have settled between us, curled around each other in a perfect yin-yang of orange and black-and-white. The air feels thick and charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
“I should probably let you work,” I say, even though leaving is the last thing I want.
“Probably.” She doesn’t move. “But if you wait for me, my shift ends in twenty minutes, and I’ll help you with the adoption paperwork.”
Daisy leans against my shoulder,pointing at the next line. “Emergency contact goes here.”
Her breath is warm against my ear. I write my own number, realize my mistake, scratch it out. Write Zane’s instead. Fuck if I know what he’d do with two cats, but I know he’d learn. Despite being the wildest Casanova I’ve ever known, he’s a former soldier, and if he has a duty, he’ll lay his life down to make sure the duty is met.
“Nervous?” There’s a smile in her voice.
“I’ve never adopted anything before.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to.
Daisy smiles, standing close enough that I can smell her fruity shampoo as I fumble through the forms.
When I’m done, the lady behind the front desk, an older woman with kind eyes and a name tag that says BETSY, looks over the paperwork.
“Everything looks good,” she says. “We just need to run the standard approval. It’ll take a few days.”
This news disappoints me more than I could have imagined. “I can’t take them today?”
“Policy.” She smiles apologetically. “We’ll call when you’re approved. You can pick them up anytime after that. Plus, it will give you time to get the things you need, since this will,” she looks down at the form, “be your first time with cats. You’ll need a litter box and toys, and food dishes, and so on.”
I glance back toward the kitten room, where the bonded pair is probably still curled around each other. The thought of them spending a few more days in a cage twists my emotions.
“They’ll be fine,” Daisy says softly, reading my expression. “I’ll keep an eye on them. I promise.”
“Okay. Let me know when I can pick them up,” I say. “I’ll be here.”
Daisy walks me to the door, then I usher her through it, into the late afternoon sun. The parking lot is nearly empty. My truck sits in the far corner, dusty and dented, as out of place in this suburban lot as I am everywhere. We walk toward it in silence, gravel crunching under our feet.
When I turn toward Daisy, she’s standing close enough that I can count the freckles scattered across her nose.
“I do want to make an appointment with you to finish the tattoo.”
“Just for the tattoo?”
“No.” Her voice drops. “Not just that.”
The sun is warm on my back. A breeze catches her hair, sending it dancing across her shoulders. She’s looking up at me with those bright blue eyes, and my hands are shaking, and I know I’m about to do something I can’t take back.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” The confession comes easier than I expected. “I wondered if the tattoo was healing okay and if you...”
“If I what?”
“If you thought about me, too.”
Her smile is like a sunrise. “Every single day. Every time I touch it.”
She reaches up and pulls her collar aside. The partial tattoo gleams against her skin—the outline of a kitten’s head, delicate and unfinished. My art. My heart. Inked forever on her skin.
My fingers trace the edge of the design, feather-light. Her breath hitches, and my pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the traffic on the distant highway, the birds in the parking lot trees.
“Want to see?” she whispers.
I’m already seeing. I’m seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she tilts her face up toward mine like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
