Page 4 of Axel

“A sunflower,” she says, pulling a piece of paper from her purse. “This sunflower. This size.”

The simple design is small. Something I could finish in two hours today if she wants it shaded. I tell her as much.

She considers my words for a moment and then nods, more to herself than to me. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Where do you want it?”

She lifts the hem of her shirt, exposing soft, creamy skin above the waist of her leggings. “Right here,” she says, patting a couple of fingers against her side just above her hip. I gulp a swallow, willing any and all inappropriate thoughts to take a fucking hike so I don’t get sued for harassment. “Is that possible?”

“Possible, yes,” I admit. “But it’ll hurt like hell. You sure that’s where you want it?”

“You think I’m not tough?” she fires back, a mischievous twinkle in her amber eyes that threatens to be my undoing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been affected by a woman like this. Maybe I’veneverbeen affected by a woman like this. Because there’s a growing desire. A burning need to keep her and claim her for my own.

Christ. I sound like a fucking caveman.

“I suspect you’re plenty tough,” I finally answer back. “But since it’s your first tattoo, maybe you want to try somewhere a little less painful? Like your shoulder or your back.”

“No, my mind’s made up,” she says with a firm smile.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Just came from Daisy’s Diner. I’m all sugared up and ready to go.”

I’m both impressed and skeptical. “I’m getting the candy bag, just in case.”

“You keep a bag of candy on hand?”

“Always.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Hi-Chews.”

She pulls out a notebook from her purse. It’s a Moleskin, same as mine except with a blush-colored cover. Looks almost as tattered, too. I watch her scribble a few things down, restraining my curiosity until she tucks it away.

“Making a grocery list?”

“What?” She glances down at her oversized purse. “Oh, no!”

Her soft laughter does something to me, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Hell, I’m not even sure to describe it. I’m suddenly wishing Keigh had failed his spelling test so I had an excuse to call Leeann back to the shop. Having her around always keeps me grounded. Right now, I feel like I’ve detached from my body. The risk of making a stupid decision is alarmingly high when it comes to this angelic stranger.

“I’m taking notes,” she explains.

“Notes?”

“I’m an author,” she adds, as though that explains everything.

“Writing an article about tattoos?”

“Writing abookabout a woman getting her first tattoo.”

“What kind of book?”

She locks her amber gaze with mine, and with every ounce of confidence, says, “A romance novel.”

3

KELSEY

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