Page 85 of Catching the Mistletoe

“For sure.”

“Can you tell if it’s the sight of the needles that has you so spooked, or is it fear of the pain they’re going to give you?”

“Just the sight. I have a high pain threshold.”

“That’s easy, then. And now, where do you want the lotus, Arabella? Arm, leg, back, butt, stomach, hip, ribs, ankle, breast, collarbone, forehead, chin, or somewhere else entirely. Choose wisely.”

“On my left wrist.”

“Lovely. Let’s get this train back on its tracks, then.” She gestured to Mack, and he moved by me, sitting down in the chair that I’d assumed was meant for me.

“Wha—” With a gentle smile, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged me into his lap. “Oh. Oh, wow.” He was going to hold me through the whole process?

“How’s that?” He asked Meryl.

She wheeled the trolley in place and grabbed my arm, pushed up the sleeve of my sweater, and laid my arm on the white cloth.

“Perfect. Arabella, relax. Mack will keep you distracted. Trust me, once the buzzing starts, you’ll barely notice the prick.”

“Okay.”

As Meryl prepped, Mack ran his thumb lightly over the pulse point on my wrist, sending a shiver through me. Then, leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot below my ear and murmured, “You got this. I’m right here.”

“Thanks. God, I’m such a mess.”

“You’re doing fine. Meryl, how about we turn the music up, so we can’t hear the buzzing?”

“Good idea.”

Within moments, the low thump of rock music was reverberating through the room, drowning out the persistent buzz of the tattoo machine.

“Ready, Arabella?”

“Ready.”

“Here goes nothing. Mack, you got her?”

“I’ve got her.” He turned me into him so I could rest my head on his shoulder and I closed my eyes. When he wrapped his arms around me, a small smile curved my lips. There was absolutely nothing for me to be scared of, because Mack had me. Just like he said.

“Okay. Here we go. You lemme know if you want me to stop, or if you need anything.”

“I’m fine.”

True to her word, the buzzing was barely noticeable, a distant annoyance, rather than a piercing blade. Mack’s warmth, his solid presence, the music, and his murmured reassurances had me relaxing enough that I didn’t even mind the pain of the needle. As long as I didn’t have to see it.

“Hold her steady, Mack.”

“Gotcha.”

“Sorry, Arabella, gotta wipe the blood.”

“Ugh.”

It took nearly an hour and Mack held me all the way through it, so steady he barely moved, unless I needed to shift into a more comfortable position.

“Almost done.”

“Yay.”

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