Page 3 of Daisy Chain
My heart kicks back up, thumping in my chest. He’s even more attractive under the bright lights of the shop, highlighting the small lines fanning around his eyes and a sprinkling of gray in the stubble of his beard. He must be mid to late thirties. Too old for me. Why would I think that? He’s not for me atall.
“Are you following me?” I ask, slightly annoyed, yet a flicker of excitement runs through me.
“I’m here for the same thing you are.” He nods toward the counter. “There’s a book filled with pretty butterflies and roses for you to choose,” he says with a slight mocking tone.
My jaw clenches. “That’s not what I want at all,” I lie. If I were to get a tattoo, that’s exactly what I would’ve chosen.
He cocks an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe me. What is it about this man that makes me want to get a full sleeve just to prove him wrong?
A woman steps out from behind a red velvet curtain. Her straight, shiny black hair reaches her backside. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with an eagle graphic on it, over faded denim ripped jeans and chunky brown boots. Her arms are covered with tattoos, and I spot a small blue butterfly behind her ear. I want to turn to the man and point out that even this cool-looking woman has a butterfly tattoo.
Like he knows what I’m thinking, he says, “She makes it look badass.”
I pull a face at him. “Like I couldn’t?”
“Honestly. No.” At the bluntness of his tone, heat flares in my cheeks.
I want to think of a witty comeback that would shut him up, but I’m not a quick thinker, so my mouth only opens and closes with no words coming out.
“You’re back again so soon?” the woman says, smiling at him.
“What can I say?” he replies with a small grin. “I love your work.”
“Good answer. You know I’m the best,” she says with a playful tone as she pokes his shoulder with her finger. Then she glances mine and Sally’s way. “What can I do for you, ladies?”
“We want to get a tattoo,” Sally answers quickly, like she thinks I’m going to change my mind. I desperately want to run out, yet the dare shining from the man’s eyes keeps me from leaving.
“Do you have any idea what you’d like?” She glances between Sally and I.
“I’d like a dragonfly,” Sally says confidently. She must have already given it some thought.
I nibble on my bottom lip. “I’m not sure. Can I have a look at some options?” If I waste time looking at designs, hopefully he’ll go in first, and I can get the hell out of here. I’ll never see him again, so, I don’t have to prove anything.
“Sure. We have books on the counter.” She points to the one I’d already spotted.
“I thought you were at the charity event tonight. It’s amazing how you’re raising money for children and young people healing from trauma. I sent a donation,” the tattoo artist says to the man.
“It’s tomorrow night. And thank you for your donation. Every dollar counts.”
“No. problem. How’s the foundation going?” She picks up a book from a shelf behind her and rests it next to the one on the counter. “These have some cool designs in them,” she says.
“It’s early days yet, but we’ve raised enough money to get dozens of kids into therapy. It’s amazing the difference it’s already making.” I hear pride in his voice.
“That’s wonderful.”
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but with them standing so close, I can’t help but overhear their conversation. So, he’s good looking and has a good heart. He’s not just a jerk.
At the counter, my hands tremble as I open the book. Dozens of intricate designs fill the pages. While Sally is gushing enthusiastically over everything she’s looking at, I’m trying to find the smallest design in the book. Am I really going to go through with it?
“After you get your tattoo, you need to send a photo to Jeremy. You know how much he hates them.” Sally snickers.
Thank goodness that relationship is over. Enduring two months of lectures on what I should wear, what to read or watch, and basically how to live my life was two months too long. Another man my father saw fit for me to marry. The third unsuccessful match in one year. A matchmaker my father does not make. Just because they go to church every Sunday doesn’t automatically make them good husband material. One day I’d love to find the right man and get married. Even have a couple of kids. I want to do it in my own time. Not have it forced on me.
“That’s not a bad idea. He’d deserve it.”
“I’m glad you dumped him. If you didn’t do it soon, I would’ve done it for you,” she says, flicking a page in the book.
I giggle. “What better way to get revenge on your ex than having another man’s name tattooed on your body?” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous’ voice washes over me.
