“Dammit!” Her gaze skipped back to Max. “I will find out who she is.” With that threat, she sprinted off, calling over her shoulder, “I have your dunk-wear with me, Ila—don’t be late.”
“You know she won’t leave it alone,” Max said as I locked up his SUV. “When are you going to tell her?”
“Tonight.” I tucked his keys in his front pocket, enjoying a quick feel of his hard thigh.
Since it was Saturday and the main event, the crowds poured into the grounds. We managed to evade the influx when Max cursed. “This way.” He made for a throng of people, weaving through them.
“What is it?” I hurried to keep up.
“Media. Best to avoid them.”
I looked over my shoulder again, searching the masses. Nothing. “How do you know?”
“When you spend years dodging them, you just know. Besides, everyone else uses cell phones for pictures—they have actual cameras.”
Oh. “It could be nothing. The fair usually gets a small mention in the press, but it’s just the local paper. We don’t really get big name people here…” My words died.
Max didn’t say anything. What he did wasalwaysnews.
Minutes later, he set the boxes on the grassy floor of the tarp structure. A table and a bench took up space inside, with a plastic chair adjacent to them. Several photos of my previous henna designs were pinned to a corkboard on a tripod, along with shots of face-painted kids.
How dad had charmed this sponsor into giving us the henna I needed, I had no idea. But it was sufficient for a few hours of work, and I was happy with that. I didn’t want to be tied down in one spot on a bright and beautiful day like this, not when Max was with me.
“So what exactly is it you’re going to do with that?” he asked, opening the box containing the henna mixture I’d prepared that morning.
I snuck him a quick look as I unpacked. “Decorate peoples’ hands and any parts of their body they like.”
His eyes narrowed. “When it comes to you, I need clarification. What body parts?”
“It’s just hands, forearms, and calves usually…” Still feeling a little guilty about Titus, I said, “Max, I won’t take on any more nudes, but I have to finish Titus’s commission.”
A nerve twitched in his jaw. His only response. With a sigh, I continued as I added more lemon juice to weaken the mixture. “The henna stain stays on for a couple of weeks, it’s not permanent. The darker the red, the longer it remains.”
His green eyes finally lost their hard edge. “What are the rates for something like this?”
Frowning, I filled the henna cone with the thinned, gooey, green-brown paste. “It’s a fair, so we try to keep it affordable. It starts off at five dollars for something simple. Anything more intricate and, of course, the price goes up since it takes time.”
He dropped a twenty on the table, held out his forearm. “Do me.”
Startled, I looked up from tying the cone. “You sure?”
“I trust you.”
Instantly, I lowered my gaze, not wanting to read too much into his words. “Sit.”
Dropping down on the chair opposite me, he shifted so his thighs caged mine and rested his forearm on the table. I studied the many tattoos he sported. The spot near his wrist was smooth, unmarred skin. I grasped his thick forearm and cleaned it with disinfectant then picked up the cone.
“Aren’t you going to draw a guideline or something?” he asked.
Smiling, I cast him a teasing look. “I thought you trusted me?”
At his intense stare, one that made my tummy dip like a girl with her first crush, I rushed on. “These are mostly abstract designs. I usually make them up as I go along. I like it that way, so no two designs are the same. Those snapshots pinned there”—I waved to the pics behind me—“are ones I did a couple of years ago.”
Removing the pin from the cone, I set it aside and worked fast and efficiently, wiping the tip with a tissue every few seconds to keep the lines fluid. Soon, a design with a few swirls took form. When I finally finished, I sat back, struggling to bite off my smile.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Now what?”
“Now you let it dry. Make sure it doesn’t smear, or all will be lost.”
