“His daughter’s birthday is today,” he explained.
“And you want me to drive you, even though you could just pay someone else less money to take you?” I asked slowly.
“Yes.”
Oh brother. The lazy part of me that was dead set on spendingfour days with my parents, didn’t want to drive Kulti around. Then the other half of me felt bad telling him no. “I was planning on spending the weekend at my parents’. I can’t drive you back here right after your appointment.”
He lifted a single bulky shoulder. “I don’t have anything else to do.”
Score one for Sal being a fucking douchebag. He didn’t have anything else to do.
Why did that make me feel so shitty?
But I couldn’t let him make me feel bad. I couldn’t back out on my parents. “Rey, I’m spending the weekend there. I can’t drive you back. I already promised them I would go.”
“I heard you the first time,” he replied in a tone I was not a fan of. “I said I don’t have anything else to do. I’ll stay with you.”
He’d stay?—
He’d stay with me?
An image of my dad fainting flashed through my mind. “Stay with me at my parents’?”
He lifted another lazy shoulder. “Yes.”
“For the weekend?”
The smart-ass rolled his eyes. “Ja.” Snarky bastard. “Is that a problem?” he asked after a moment of me not saying anything.
I cleared my throat and thought of my dad again. “Remember my dad was a big fan of yours?” He nodded. “He’s a huge fan, you have to understand that if you want to go and—” I gulped. “—stay with them. He might faint and act like he doesn’t speak English the entire weekend.” Then I thought about it. “And stare, he might stare at you and not say a word.”
The German seemed to think about it for all of five seconds before he shrugged, like none of what I said would bother him at all. Not even a little bit. “Yes. Fine.”
I took a deep breath because I suddenly couldn’t comprehend what I had just signed myself up for. “Are you sure?” I asked him slowly.
He gave me a look right before turning back to grab the potagain. “Yes. Now go shower and put on something that covers you up more.”
I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Not a single freaking clue.
“SO, why did you decide to come here instead of some place in Houston?” I asked nearly nine hours later as I pulled my car into a parking spot in front of the nice building Kulti’s phone had directed us to.
We hadn’t left my place until a little after ten, since there was no point in us rushing around because his appointment wasn’t until four. The drive was a little less than three hours. To kill time, we stopped for lunch at one of my favorite barbecue places along the way, stopped and walked around the Capitol, and visited a dollar store. Kulti had asked in the office supply section. “Everything costs one dollar?” Then he proceeded to inspect every item we came across.
Unbuckling his seat belt, he gave me another look, still clearly insulted that I had assumed he was getting cosmetic surgery earlier. “I saw their work in a magazine.”
That was all the information he gave me. All right.
We got out of the car and made our way toward the door inscribed with “Pins and Needles” in classy simple font. Kulti reached forward and opened it. In the back of my head, I’d figured the German wouldn’t have chosen some seedy place where you’d probably get crabs if you sat on the toilet, so I wasn’t surprised by how clean and modern looking the tattoo parlor was. Heavy metal played softly in the background.
A redheaded man was sitting behind the black desk at the front, working on something with a pencil. He looked up when we went in and gave us a friendly smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”
When I realized Mr. Non-Congeniality wasn’t saying anything, I smiled back at the man while elbowing Kulti in the arm for being rude. “Good, and you?”
“Great.” He glanced at the German and something like recognition flickered in his gaze before he set his pencil on the desk. He swiped the computer mouse next to his hand and glanced at the screen before slowly sliding his gaze back to Kulti. “Dex will be out in a minute, if you want to take a seat.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him again and turned back to sit on one of the black leather couches. Kulti stayed standing, walking toward the wall where multiple magazine articles were framed. Not even thirty seconds later, the sound of boots on the tiled floor didn’t prepare me for the black-haired man who made his way from the back of the business. Tall, broad shouldered, and with tattoos that went all the way down to his wrists, I couldn’t help but stare at him.
I’d never been a fan of guys that looked like they’d gone to jail, but you’d have to be blind to not appreciate how good-looking the man was, even if he wasn’t my type.
