Page 50 of Leave a Mark
If he knew me,she thought,he wouldn’t be in such hurry.
“What was that for?” he asked.
Wren frowned but didn’t stop working. “What was what for?”
“That sigh.”
“I didn’t sigh,” she protested.
“Yes, you did.”
She ignored him. The shading was almost finished. And as soon as Studio Ink closed, she was going straight to Agave and ordering the sixteen-ounce Top Shelf Margarita.
“When I saw you this morning, you said you were helping a friend,” he said, and she could hear in his voice that he was leading up to a question.
She glanced up at him and back at her work before he could continue.
“Were you giving her a ride to a meeting or were you helping to admit her?”
Wren pulled the shader back, but her heart started to pound against her chest. “What does it matter?”
Lee gazed back at her with the gentlest expression. “It doesn’t. But when I saw you — by the trees at the courthouse — you looked upset.” He paused, and his eyes searched her face in a way she didn’t like.
She looked back at the tattoo, even though it was completely finished.
Wren couldn’t let herself go back to that memory. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone, so she told him about Curtis instead.
“I was helping a friend. He’s starting a thirty-day inpatient program.”
“You talked him into going.” It wasn’t a question. “See? I already know you’re a good person.”
Wren put the shader down and turned off the machine. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered, and thrust the mirror back into his hands. “You’re done.”
Lee held the mirror in front of him. “Oh my God… that is so cool,” he said in awe. He sat up on the table, still checking it out. “It looks soreal.”
He reached his hand up to touch it, and she batted it away. “No touching. It needs to stay sterile for a little while.”
She traded out her gloves a third time and gave the tattoo a final coat of green soap. It did look good. It looked great. The shading marks matched the original key perfectly.
Wren cut him a four-by-six piece of gauze and settled it gently over the fresh tattoo. “I’m going to tape this down, and you need to leave it on for at least twelve hours.”
Lee smiled. “Perfect. I have a twelve-hour shift at the hospital in a little while.”
She ignored him. “It’ll be sore for a few days. And later, it’ll itch. Do. Not. Scratch. It. When you take the bandage off, you should treat it with a topical antibiotic twice a day for three days.” Then she got in his face. “If one of your patients has a staph infection, you keep it the hell away from my tattoo.”
His eyes sparkled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Again, she ignored him while she taped down his dressing. And, now that he sat up higher than she stood, Wren also had to ignore how his body loomed above hers. How his scent of sagebrush and soap was stronger now that he was upright.
“Okay,” she said, pressing down the last piece of tape and pulling her hands away. “Get dressed, and I’ll ring you up.”
She turned away, and, in matter of seconds, she put the distance of the whole shop between them. But even while she keyed in his purchase behind the counter on the company iPad, she managed to watch him dress out of the corner of her eye.
And the sight of him pulling on his button-down blue dress shirt made her breath stutter. Because — for now anyway — she was the only one who knew his secret. He would go to the hospital, and no one would suspect what was hidden right over his heart. The thought of her tattoo hiding beneath that dress shirt and tie was just about the sexiest thing Wren could imagine.
“That will be $125.00,” she said, congratulating herself on how cool and aloof she sounded, even as he stalked up to her, straightening his silk tie.
Lee handed over his Visa card, and she read his name across the front:Leland T. Hawthorne.
