Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
A little bell dinged when I walked inside and pulled off my shades, sticking them in the inner pocket of my cut. The place had an edgy, rock n’ roll vibe that was kick-ass, with black floors that had silver flecks, dark gray walls, and black leather furniture. There was shiny chrome all over the place, though, and bright lights, so the place didn’t seem dark. The walls were also covered with metal artwork that looked like they had probably been drawings for custom ink.
Behind a front desk were a series of tattoo stations, all separated with curtains in case the client wanted privacy. I froze when I saw a gorgeous redhead sitting with her back to me, leaning over the arm of a client as she worked. Tendrils of jealousy snaked their way through my body, and I clenched my fists at my side.
Get a fucking grip, Mav.
The guy was at least fifty, had a gray handlebar mustache, and a bit of a beer belly. It wasn’t like he was competition. However, it was when he hissed and blinked up at the ceiling, clearly trying not to cry, that those feelings disappeared.
“Can I help you?”
Suppressing a laugh, I smoothed my expression as I turned my focus to the girl behind the front desk. When she smiled, I immediately knew she was related to my woman. They had the same lips and eye color, though this girl’s hair was a darker auburn, and she had fewer freckles. Molly’s sister Dahlia did piercings at Silver Ink, so I assumed she was the one who greeted me.
Tearing my eyes away from my woman, I ambled up to the counter. “Got an appointment.”
“Hi. I’m Dahlia. You must be M. Crawford,” the girl said as she typed something on the computer.
“Yeah.” While I was willing to deal with whatever shit blew my way over claiming Molly, I figured it best not to send up any red flags just yet. So I’d made the appointment under just my first initial and last name.
“I see it's your first time with us, but clearly, this isn’t your first tattoo.” She gestured to my neck. Most of it was covered in ink, as well as a string of words across my collarbone, and a lot of it was visible above the crew neck of my white T-shirt.
She leaned over the counter a little, and I lifted my chin to give her a better view. “That’s really nice work,” she murmured with surprise, her eyes coming back up to mine.
My ink had all been done by one of my brothers, Whiskey, who ran Iron Inkworks, the tattoo shop owned by our club. Whiskey was one of the best artists I’d ever met, but after doing some research and seeing Molly’s work, I was looking forward to having her stamp on me for multiple reasons.
“Did your artist retire or something?” Dahlia asked as she grabbed a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached and a pen. “He’s obviously very good.”
“Molly’s better,” I replied gruffly, taking the proffered clipboard.
She smiled smugly. “Yeah, she is.”
I filled out the paperwork while she went into a little spiel for new customers. When she finished, I handed it back, and she motioned toward a waiting area.
“Have a seat. Molly’s just finishing up. It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”
I nodded and walked over to a chair that gave me a view of the working area so that when I sat down, I still had eyes on Molly.
Less than a minute later, the front door opened, and two people entered the studio. The man and woman were both attractive, young—probably early twenties—and were holding hands.
“Hey, Dahlia!” the woman said brightly as she approached the desk.
“Fawn!” Dahlia smiled happily, but when the man lifted the hand he was holding to show off a sparkling diamond on his girl’s finger, she screeched and ran around the desk to hug Fawn. “You’re engaged!”
The girls laughed and hugged while the man stood back and watched his fiancée with a soft expression.
“Congratulations, Dale,” Dahlia effused, giving him a quick hug. Then she hopped back and gasped. “Does this mean…?”
Fawn rolled her eyes, but she shifted nervously on her feet. “A deal’s a deal. Do you have time to do it?”
Dahlia clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. “Of course!” Then she put her hand on Fawn’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly. “Relax, girl. You know I’ve got this.”
Fawn sighed and turned to her fiancé with narrowed eyes. “You’re still holding up our end of the deal, right?”
“Absolutely,” he assured her with a firm jerk of his chin before sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
Dahlia grinned and dropped her voice as they continued talking, but their conversation still floated to my ears. I only paid it half attention because I was keeping an eye on Molly.