I really need to stop thinking like that. She’s not mine to keep.
We get the guy scheduled for another appointment and he finally leaves. I blow out a tired breath and lean my hip against the counter.
“You got any more appointments?” I ask Lucy.
“Yup. Gonna pierce some titties.” She grabs her breasts and shakes her hips in a ridiculously unprofessional little dance she likes to do every time someone books a nipple piercing.
“Seriously?” I level her with a stern stare.
“Oh, settle down Declan Downer. Aren’t I always professional with my clients?”
“Yes,” I grind out. “Doesn’t meanIneed to be subjected to your happy titties dance.”
She snort-giggles and reaches up to pat my cheek. “Awww, you’re so cute when you try to be all stern and stuff.”
The bell over the front door jingles and cold air rushes inside.
“I, uh, am I interrupting?” Emery’s voice is hesitant.
I swat Lucy’s hand away from my cheek.
Then I swing my gaze toward Emery.
She’s hanging her coat on a hook by the door, then turns and I practically swallow my tongue.
Red sweaterdress that hugs every curve. Long sleeves and a high neck but short enough to show off her long legs covered in red, black, and gold plaid tights and tall Docs. Hair shining and loose over her shoulders.
“Doessheneed any piercings?” Lucy mutters.
“No,” I growl.
And if she does,I’llbe the one to do them.
Emery seems hesitant, her gaze flicking all over the shop before landing on me again. She lifts one hand in an attempt at a wave. “Hi, Lucy. Nice to see you again.”
My heart squeezes at Emery’s attempt to befriend Lucy.
I cross the short distance between us and curl my hand over Emery’s hip, dragging her closer without even thinking about it.
She glances up with startled eyes and a slight hesitation to her smile.
“How’d you know red’s my favorite color?”
Pink blooms over her cheeks. “I didn’t.”
I run my gaze over her again, stopping at her hands. I let out a quick sigh of relief. She went for a manicure today instead of stirring up the town’s ghosts. “Get your nails done?”
The pink on her cheeks deepens. “Well, yeah. There’s that little shop?—”
“Nailed It!Yup, I know the owner.”
Her forehead wrinkles into a slight scowl. Is she…jealous? And if she is, why do I like it so much? Making women jealous isn’t my style.
“Nora. She’s on the planning committee for theSlayride I told you about,” I explain.
Emery nods, but her gaze keeps skittering around like she’s not sure she should be here.
Something tightens behind my ribs.
