Page 42 of Inked Daddies

“Not by what. By who. And thewhoisme,” I say, leaning in a little. “I mean, look at me. Obviously, I know all about beingadorable. If I say someone is adorable, then you know on good authority that they are, in fact, adorable.”

She snorts a giggle. “It feels like, the more you say that word, the less meaning it has.”

“Nah, the trouble is Sam and Hugo. They don’t know what it is to be adorable like me and you. They’re just riding my compliment coattails.”

Hugo snorts. “Please. If anyone’s riding coattails, it’s you. Mine, specifically.”

“Yours?” I turn to him, pretending to be offended. “The only thing I’m riding is the wave of your jealousy. Admit it—you wish you had my charm.”

“Charm?” Hugo repeats, his smirk widening. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Marie bursts into giggles, and I shoot Hugo a glare that’s about as serious as a wet paper towel. “Don’t ruin this for me, man.”

“Ruin what?” Marie asks, still laughing.

I look at her, and for a second I forget how to be funny. How to tease a girl to make her smile. She’s already smiling at me, all bright and warm and completely at ease, and it hits me like a sucker punch.

This.This is what I don’t want ruined.

But I don’t say that. Instead, I lean back against the counter and shrug. “My ego, obviously. It’s fragile, you know.” I wink. “The only thing fragile about me.”

“That makes sense. I didn’t think you could lift me like that.”

“You kidding? I’ve had to lift each of these guys off the side of a?—”

Sam clears his throat.

Right. Not supposed to mention that. She is not read-in enough for the cliff story. I switch gears back to civilian mode. “I’ve had to carry these guys out of bars more times than I care to remember. You weigh practically nothing.”

Odd. I’ve never come that close to spilling an old story before. It’s Marie. She makes me want to share everything with her.

“Do not listen to him, Marie,” Hugo purrs. “It’s him we have carried out of bars. He’s a menace on tequila.”

She laughs, and I take the opportunity to give him a nod of thanks for running with that lie. I don’t like lying to Marie, but these lies keep her safe, and I’ll do anything to keep her safe.

The thing about Hugo, though, is that he doesn’t have to try. The lies we have to tell come naturally to him. He’s smooth and sharp and rich as hell, so as he puts it, he has a passing interest in things like truth and lies. Lying never bothered him. To him, it’s a tool as much as anything else is.

Worse, he’s pretty. Well, pretty for a man. He did some modeling overseas, and we never let him live that down. But the fact remains—women fall at his feet, guys either want to be him or want to punch him, and he’s completely unaffected by it all unless he wants to be.

Why he’s stuck around with me and Sam, I’ll never know.

“Hey, Marie,” Hugo says, leaning against the wall again, that smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next for you?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I mean, what are your intentions?” he says, his voice casual but laced with just enough curiosity to make her squirm. “Going forward. With us.”

Marie’s eyes go wide. “I—I don’t know. I wasn’t really…thinking about the future.”

“Good answer,” Hugo says with a nod. “I usually find that’s the best way to stumble into the interesting parts of life.”

I roll my eyes. “Of courseyoucan say that, Mr. ‘I Own Half the Parish.’ You can afford to stumble into whatever you want. Some of us have to actually work for a living, you know.”

Hugo chuckles, shaking his head. “And yet, here we are, standing in the same room.”

“Yeah, but we got here different ways,” I shoot back. “You rolled up in your fancy truck, and I rolled up on my bike.”

“Both got us here, didn’t they?”

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