He looked intrigued, gaze sweeping over my bare arms. “You don’t have any ink. You really want to do this?”
Unlike me, Damon had a couple of tattoos—just a decorative band around his upper right arm and a starburst on one shoulder blade.
“Don’t you like the idea of inking myvirginskin?” I teased.
He took a step closer to me. “Well, when you put it that way…”
A wiry man with bright copper hair and full sleeves of ink on his arms came strolling toward us. “You two ready for your appointment?”
“Yeah,” I said smiling. “You’re the guy I talked to on the phone, right? Fox?”
“That’s me.” He grasped my hand and gave it a quick pump, then reached for Damon. “Fox Reeves. You said the tattoos would commemorate your anniversary. How long has it been?”
“A year,” Damon said. “But it feels longer.”
I jabbed him with my elbow. “Be nice!”
“I meant that in a good way!”
Fox laughed as he led us back to his workstation. “Well, congrats on making it this far.”
The shop was mostly empty at this late hour, but there was one guy wiping down all the tables and equipment. He flashed a smile when we passed, and I got a flicker of deja vu, like maybe I’d seen himbefore.
“That was Emory, my apprentice,” Fox said. “He actually did the drawing for your design.”
“And what is our design?” Damon asked.
I turned to him, nerves fluttering. We were surrounded by absolutely gorgeous tattoo art on the walls: intricate tribal designs, bright, colorful images that popped off the page; black-and-white and shaded designs that intricately wove together into a single image.
What if Damon didn’t like my idea? Or worse, what if he was fine with the tattoo, but not the idea behind it?
“So, I wanted this to be a surprise, but now I’m wondering if that was a mistake.”
Fox raised an eyebrow. “How about I let you two talk it out?” He handed me the tattoo sketches. “These are what we’ve worked up. You let us know when you’re ready.”
Damon watched me, waiting until we were alone to ask, “Cold feet?”
“Not me,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s just…I’m suddenly a little nervous. I thought it would be fun if, um, we got tattoos as a symbol of how we feel. At least, that’s what I want to get.”
I looked down at the top sketch, a beautiful rendering of a vine with tiny leaves and a single, small red tulip. It was circular, like a ring.
I handed the sketch to Damon, wetting my dry lips. “I thought this could be mine. It wouldn’t have to go on my ring finger, but?—”
Damon crushed me into a kiss. “Put it on your damn ring finger.”
My heart skipped. “I mean, it’s just a symbol, you know? Of what we mean to each other.”
“I love it,” he said. “Why the tulip?”
“It actually means perfect love. Deep love, you know?” I laughed a little. “Plus, a rose seemed trite.”
“It’s gorgeous. We’ll have to thank Fox’s apprentice.”
“Emory,” I said.
His lips tugged down a smidge. “You remembered his name awfully fast.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m about to tattoo a ring on my finger for you.” I lowered my voice. “And I’m wearing these tiny, constricting panties.”
