“I know, my pretty. We’ll figure it out together. How about this one?”
It’s a picture he took of me and Luna curled up together.
“Perfect.”
His fingers move rapidly as he adds a caption, hashtags, and taps to share.
I’m glad he seems to know what he’s doing. Apparently, he spent the last few days doing “research” on the best ways to promote me. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s now officially in charge of my Instagram account.
“Done!”
“Good. Now gimme my phone. I wanna text Tara to see if she can help me with some type of portfolio, or maybe set me up with some other photographers.”
He leaves me to my conversation and disappears into my kitchen.
Returning a few minutes later, arms loaded down with snacks, he asks, “What did she say?”
I laugh, barely understanding him because his words are muffled by whatever sugar-filled goodness he shoved in his mouth before walking into the room.
“She promised to let me know if she hears of anyone needing a model.” I shift to face him as he drops the goodies between us on the couch, curling one leg underneath me. “She also wants to do another shoot with me. Said it’ll help her add to her portfolio too, so she’s gonna get a variety of shots.”
His eyes light with excitement. “Oooh! I wanna choose your outfits!”
“That’s not all you get to help me choose.”
His brow lifts, so I tell him about wanting to get tattoos to cover my scars.
“Problem is...I have no idea what I want.”
He slides closer, slipping my phone from my fingertips. “What would you do without me, my pretty?”
Sighing dramatically, I rest the back of my hand on my forehead and let my head fall back. “Simply perish.”
“Damn right. Now, I have something in mind I think you’ll love.”
Watching his fingers fly across the screen, my eyes widen when he turns it toward me.
“Wow, that’s beautiful.”
We spend hours snuggled together on the couch, Derrick showing me beautiful, brilliant tattoo designs. At the end of the night, I still don’t know exactly what I want, but I do know that I want something designed solely for me.
After copious amounts of coffee and a greasy breakfast to battle our wine hangovers, Derrick and I make our way to Three Kings.
No tattoos today. But I do want to talk to one of the artists and see if they can help me with the design for my tattoo. I’m hoping someone can take the few details I give them and work some magic. I love and appreciate the artistry that goes into tattooing, but I can’t draw to save my life.
A bell rings as Derrick opens the door to the shop and we hear a low growl coming from somewhere in the building. My eyes widen and Derrick giggles, holding the door and allowing me to go in first.
“Age before beauty,” he says as I step past him.
I turn back, giving him a mock glare. “Bitch.”
His hand meets my ass in a firm slap, “Don’t sass me.”
I open my mouth to let him have it, but a guy pops around the corner and snags my attention.
Where in the hell has this guy been hiding?
I can’t help but take him in from head to toe.
Tall and fit. Covered in tattoos and piercings.
He’s smokin’ hot.
Not as hot as Adam.
Ugh. That stupid little voice in my head loves to remind me about him.
It doesn’t matter that Adam is gorgeous. It’s never going to happen.
Not when he looks at me like he hates me.
I’m saved from my thoughts straying too far when I feel Derrick’s fingertips beneath my jaw. He gently applies pressure to close my mouth, leaning down to whisper, “You’re drooling, my pretty.”
He grunts when I whack him in his stomach, hissing at him to shut up.
Hot guy grins, obviously amused.
“Welcome to Three Kings,” he says as he saunters toward us, arm outstretched to shake my hand. “I’m Cannon, what can I do for you today?”
Smiling, I shake his hand. “Hi. I wanted to talk to someone about a tattoo design. I’m not exactly sure how all this works.”
“First time?”
“Is it that obvious?”
He smirks, a glint of something I can’t decipher in his eyes. “Nah. Let’s sit and talk about how we can pop that cherry.”
Behind me, I hear Derrick suck in a breath.
A blush heats my cheeks and I almost trip over my own two feet as he leads me to a leather sofa to the side of the front desk.
We all take a seat, Derrick on my left and Cannon on my right. He’s close, almost too close. I can feel the heat from his thigh against mine. I don’t move away. Instead—deciding that it’s nice to have someone flirt with me—I look him in the eyes and smile. It’s been too long since someone’s been interested in me and there’s not a damn thing wrong with soaking up a little of someone’s attention.
Though he remains silent, I can sense Derrick beside me, hanging onto every action, every word.
“Before we get started, I gotta ask...are you Madalyn or Presley?”
My head jerks back, brows dipping low.
“Oh, shit.” He laughs, placing his hand on my thigh. “My bad. I didn’t realize how fucking creepy that would sound. I’m friends with Ryan, so I’ve met your sister.”
I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and a small chuckle slips out along with it.
“Presley.”
“Well, Presley,” he says, leaning in close. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet—”
“Cannon!”
The deep voice startles me and I flinch, pulling away from Cannon. Searching out the voice, my breath catches when my gaze locks on a set of eyes burning with anger.
Adam.
“In my office. Now.” Fury punctuates every syllable.
Cannon excuses himself, confusion written plain as day on his face.
Derrick and I watch silently as the two men disappear down the hallway.
A door slams, breaking the silence.
Harsh, angry voices follow, but it’s impossible to understand what they’re saying.
“Ooooooh. Somebody’s in trouble,” Derrick singsongs.
“I don’t understand why he’s so mad,” I whisper, eyes never leaving the hallway entrance.
I’m not sure why I whisper, there’s absolutely no chance of them overhearing me.
Derrick clicks his tongue.
“Not yet, my pretty, but you will.”
TWELVE
Adam
More than two decades of friendship and I can’t remember a time I’ve ever wanted to lay my friend the fuck out.
But here we are.
Guess there really is a first time for everything.
Hearing Cannon flirt with pretty girls is nothing new, especially lately. As long as he doesn’t get completely inappropriate with clients, I normally let him do his thing. Something about this particular girl didn’t sit right with me. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t hear her well enough to place it. Then...she said her name.