Page 23 of Inked Daddies

It was divine intervention that I fell in with Sam, Trick, and Preacher back then. They saved my worthless ass and helped me become a man. Had they not stepped in, I wouldn’t be here to disturb the loveliest rose in the garden.

“Hello, Marie,” I say, keeping my voice low and smooth as I walk toward the desk.

“Hugo! You scared me!”

That’s the idea. I wanted to get her blood pressure up.

I don’t make a habit of hanging out in libraries, and in my experience, they’re not the best place to declare one’s intent. It’s not really my scene. Too quiet, too orderly, too full of rules about how you’re supposed to behave.

But when Trick mentioned what he saw last night, something inside me shifted. Marie Durand. Shy, sweet, bookish Marie. Putting on a show for Trick.

I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought of her, flushed and flustered, that nervous little hitch in her voice when she realizes someone’s watching her—it’s enough to drive a man crazy. But I need to know more. If she’s only into Trick, I want to know. Not just for him, but for me. For all of us.

“Did I startle you?” I ask, smirking. “I figured you’d hear me coming. It’s not like I’m stealthy.” Not right now, anyway.

She bites her lip, her eyes darting around like she’s trying to figure out what to do with me. I can’t help but notice how pretty she is when she’s nervous, her cheeks flushed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her skirt.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice shaky but curious.

“Is that what you ask all your patrons?”

She huffs, realizing that sounded rude. “I’m sorry, all I meant was?—”

“What amIdoing here, right?” I smile, enjoying teasing her. “Were you expecting someone else? Trick, perhaps?”

It’s so satisfying to see her blush because I got to her. I love seeing the effect I have on her. Or is it the effect the memory has on her? This game tantalizes me, whatever it is.

She straightens. “No. I wasn’t expecting anyone at all. Nobody usually comes by on Sundays.”

“Well, I came to see you,” I say, and that blush deepens immediately. Superb.

“W-why?”

I let the silence hang for a beat, just long enough to make her squirm a little. It’s a bad habit of mine, making people uncomfortable just to see how they’ll react. But with Marie, it’s not only about making her uncomfortable—it’s about seeing her. The real her, the one she keeps hidden behind all those polite smiles and shy glances.

When she’s uncomfortable, that mask slips, and I get a glimpse of the woman underneath the girlish persona. She wears it well,I’ll admit. Better than any disguise I’ve ever worn or seen. The quiet librarian, the preacher’s daughter, the straight-A student, each a facet of the mask.

Each a lie.

After hearing what went down with Trick last night, I’d like to know exactly how much of the mask is an act and how much is really her. A compulsion in my soul demands it. “Actually,” I say finally, leaning casually against the counter, “I came for an anatomy lesson.”

The look on her pretty face is priceless. Her cheeks aflame, her pupils dilating, her breaths going double time. “Um, wha-what do you mean?”

I glance around, trying not to smirk too hard. “This is a small town, so perhaps they are scandalous, but I assume you have books on anatomy, don’t you?”

She blinks, clearly confused. “Anatomybooks?”

“Aye.” I give a full grin because I know I’m being a shit right now. “For professional reasons, of course.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. “You mean for tattooing?”

“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about officially registering with the state. Figured I should brush up on my knowledge before I start taking people’s money for my work.”

Her confusion deepens, and she tilts her head slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. “I thought you were already doing tattoos.”

“Only on myself and the guys,” I admit. “Haven’t done much outside our circle. Don’t really like working in the traditional sense of the word. But the guys are on me to go legit, so I can legally fill in for them if they need a break.”

“Wait.” She blinks at me again, and before good manners can stop her, she blurts out, “Then what do you do for money?”

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