This was going to be fun.
Savannah practicallyjumpedoff the bike the second we stopped.Her feet ungracefully hit the pavement, and she took five steps away from the bike like she was trying to escape its devious clutches.
“I am never,” she said, breathing unsteady, “getting on that thing again.”
She tried her best to tug on the helmet, but it wouldn't give.I did my best not to laugh, but come on, she looked ridiculous.Shaking my head, I walked over to her and pulled the helmet off her head with ease.Her hair spilled out in soft waves, slightly mussed from the ride—honestly, the best look on her so far.If I let my mind wander, it would’ve been exactly how it would look after we—
“Never again,” she repeated, glaring daggers at me.
“Come on,” I teased, lifting my own helmet.“You know you loved it.”
“I hated every second.”
“Sure you did,” I said, smirking as I set both helmets on the handlebar.
Savannah turned toward the building, and I followed her gaze as it lifted to the sign above the door—Cage Ink Studios—painted in matte black with sharp silver lettering.
She tried not to look impressed.
She failed.
“Ready?”I asked.
She smoothed her blouse, resumed her stiff posture, and nodded once.“Let’s get this over with.”
The second we stepped inside, the bass hit us—old-school dancehall drifting from the speakers, low and rhythmic.The studio opened into a wide, industrial-chic space: exposed brick, blue-gray walls, hanging Edison bulbs, brown leather chairs, and a polished concrete floor that still smelled slightly like eucalyptus disinfectant.
Savannah’s eyes swept the room—quick, assessing.She tried to hide it, but I saw the tiny tick at the corner of her mouth.
She liked it.
Good.
Nerissa was posted at her station, shoulder-length honey brown locs piled on top of her head, digital pen tapping on her tablet as she sketched.She spotted me first and paused the music.
“About time you got here,” she called out.Then she pointed the pen at me.“You forgot about the consult, didn't you?Just because you've got a pretty face doesn't mean you can just show up whenever you want.”
I grinned and walked over.“Morning to you, too, Rissa.”
“Don’t ‘morning’ me.You should be…” Her attention shifted and then she froze, eyes widening as she realized we weren't alone.“Holy shit.You are gorgeous.”
Savannah blinked.“Oh.Uh—thank you?”
I laughed.“Savannah, Nerissa.Nerissa, Savannah.”
Nerissa stood, looking her up and down with the enthusiasm of someone inspecting a rare diamond.“Skin’s flawless.Hair’s perfect.Doesn't dress like a slut.Jax, where did you find her?”
I laughed and slid an arm around Savannah’s waist before she combusted from discomfort.“Easy, Riss.You’re scaring her.”
She ignored me completely.“I'm Nerissa, hun, and I'm the real talent around here.”
“Real pain in my ass is more like it,” I muttered.
“What was that?”
“Huh?Nothing.”I lifted my hands in surrender, a gesture which Savannah seemed all too pleased about.It didn't matter.Nerissa may have been only 5’1, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in that take-no-shit nature of hers.
Tiny devil.
