Standing at the front counter of Syn’s tattoo shop, I watched the afternoon sunlight filter through the storefront windows. The walls were covered in flash art, Syn’s distinct style in every piece. They were dark and complex designs. My favorite was the phoenix she drew last month.
Life moved fast after Vegas. Owen graduated that spring and got drafted to the Red River Renegades, the same team as Jax. I transferred to the University of Tennessee, finished my nursing degree with honors, and promptly decided that what I really wanted to do was help Syn run her tattoo shop when I wasn’t traveling with Owen during hockey season.
My dad had looked at me like I’d lost my mind when I told him. Four years of nursing school to work the front desk of a tattoo parlor?
But it made sense to me. I loved everything about the shop, and Syn needed someone she could trust to handle the business side while she focused on the art.
Plus, I got to spend my days with my best friend instead of pulling twelve-hour shifts at a hospital. Win-win.
We bought a house two doors down from Jax and Kaia in a subdivision that was slowly becoming our own little compound. Trystan and Cam were in the process of closing on a place three houses down. Syn had bought the lot across the street with plans to build next year.
It was everything I ever wanted and more than I ever dreamed possible.
The front door chimed, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ryat walked in, all six-foot-two inches of dark hair, blue eyes, and enough tattoos to cover most of his visible skin. He was one of Owen and Jax’s teammates, and somehow, against all odds and Syn’s initial protests, he became her boyfriend about a year ago.
I grinned at him. “I don’t think you have any spots left for more tattoos.” Syn had tattooed about 50 percent of his tattoos. The other half he had before he met her.
He smirked, that cocky expression that used to annoy Syn, but now made her blush, which I didn’t even know was possible growing up.
“Always room for one more.” He winked, then his gaze dropped to my belly, his expression softening. “Does she really make you stand on your feet all day?”
I shifted my weight, one hand automatically going to my belly. Thirty-six weeks. In a few weeks, we would meet our daughter.
Our daughter.
The thought still sent a thrill through me, even after months of knowing that Owen and I were having a baby girl.
Just four more weeks until I get to see if she has Owen’s smile or my nose. Until I got to hold her, smell that newborn baby smell, and start the greatest adventure of our lives.
The thought made my chest tight in the best way.
I laughed, rubbing the spot where our daughter was currently using my ribs as a soccer ball. “She runs a tight ship. But I was just waiting on Owen.”
Ryat grabbed one of the waiting room chairs and slid it across the floor toward me. “Sit. Please. Before Owen shows up and blames me for not taking care of his pregnant wife. Then Syn will kill me for letting you overdo it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit anyway. You know how she gets.”
He wasn’t wrong. Syn had been almost as protective of me during this pregnancy as Owen had been. I sat, mostly because my feet were killing me, and standing for the past three hours probably hadn’t been my smartest decision. “She’s finishing up with a client right now. Should be done in about ten minutes.”
“Good.” He dropped into the chair across from me, his knee bouncing. “I’m taking her to dinner after. I figured she could use a break from the shop.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Don’t tell her I’m sweet. She’ll just argue about it.”
“You two are so weird.”
The door chimed again, and my heart did that stupid fluttery thing it always did when Owen walked into a room.
He looked ridiculously good in dark jeans, a grey Red River Renegades hoodie, his hair slightly messy. His face lit up when he saw me, a smile that was only mine.
“Hey, beautiful.” He crossed the room, stopping to clasp hands with Ryat in a complicated handshake-hug thing guys did. “What’s up, man? Syn working late?”
“She’s finishing up a client, so I thought I would wait.” Ryat grinned. “Plus, someone needs to make sure your wife actually sits down.”
