He nodded, still staring at the swirly flourish I’d done on his forearm. “Ink is so much easier.”
“And painful,” I pointed out.
He looked up and just shook his head.
A group of fourteen-year-olds stopped at the stall. Max moved to sit next to me on the bench.
“Hi.” I smiled at the redheaded girl. “What can I do for you?”
The teen cast a flirty look at Max, who didn’t notice. He studied his own henna artwork.
“Something on my lower back—a butterfly.” She twisted and pulled her shorts a tad lower.
I sighed at the thong revealed, no doubt who her intended target was. “It’s just hands, forearms, and calves, I’m afraid.”
“Bummer.” The girl rolled her big gray eyes. “Okay, ring finger. I want a sexy design that trails to my wrist.” She took the seat opposite me. As I prepped the girl’s hand, Max’s cell beeped.
He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at it, and rose. “Logan, I have to—” He broke off, finally realizing he was the center of attention for a bunch of teen girls. His gaze came back to me. “What time do you finish here?”
“At two. Then I’m helping Ray for an hour or so, covering for one of the girls who’s off, sick.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there. I’m not sure how long this will take. Your father needs help on one of the stalls. A slat or something broke.”
I picked up the lemon and sugar spray I’d prepared, grasped his arm, and sprayed a layer over the henna to help it stain better. Then met his gaze. “About my dad. He’s really protective. If he gives you a hard time—”
“He just wants to make sure you’re safe with me.” Max brushed it off. “I can handle that… On second thought, if I’m not back by noon, come save me.”
At his teasing, and that he would do this because of me, my heart swelled, unable to stop the emotions crowding me.
He turned to leave, then pivoted. “Forgot something really important.”
Frowning, I set the spray on the table. He drew me to my feet and put his mouth on mine. I expected a quick kiss. I was wrong. He slid one arm around my waist, holding me close, his mouth adding a little more pressure to mine.
“Max,” I mumbled against his lips, “people are watching—”
“Don’t care. Kiss me, dancing girl. This could be my very last kiss. I’m facing the lion in a few minutes.”
Laughter spilled free. He smiled. I was utterly helpless to resist him, and I pressed my mouth to his. Instantly, he deepened the kiss, tasting and seeking more. Lost in him, I forgot our audience.
When he finally let me go, I dropped to the bench in a daze and watched Max stride off.
Tall and mouthwateringly sexy, his tatts added to the edge of dangerous draw surrounding him. And with his t-shirt delineating his shoulders and chest, the stares he collected as he disappeared into the crowd weren’t surprising.
I turned and realized I wasn’t the only one with a dreamy expression.
“When I’m older, I want a guy just like him,” one of the girls said with a sigh.
Chapter Eleven
Ila
The noise around me barely made any impression as I searched the crowd from my high seat in the Dunk Tank. The morning had flown by, and the hour helping Ray was almost up, too.
Thankfully, no one had managed to dunk me yet. Even if they did, at least I had on my floral board shorts and a tank top Ray had brought along for this venture.
The warm sun beating down on me, I swung my legs, my mind on Max. He’d stopped by once at my stall, but I’d been busy, and it appeared my father had roped him in to help for a few hours.
With a small grin, I wondered what he thought of me writing, “Logan” on his arm. He seemed more amused than anything, probably was thankful it wasn’t permanent.
