Page 11 of Love at First Ink

It shouldn’t have meant shit to him. But the thought was planted in his head, and now he couldn’t let it go. “Let me bandage you up and talk about aftercare.”

Aftercare, for fuck’s sake.His brain needed to not immediately go to the horny place it felt compelled to go to.

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, he catered to Marisol, making sure she was wrapped up properly before giving her instructions that detailed exactly what she needed to do over the next few weeks.

“If you have any questions, here’s my number.” Cisco dug through his pocket and pulled out his card. He searched for a pen before writing down his personal phone number on the back. “Text or call me anytime.”

Marisol took the card from him and tucked it securely in her purse, alongside her aftercare instructions. “What do people normally tip for these things? I guess I should have looked that up before,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I need to?—”

“You really don’t,” Cisco cut her off. Then he had an idea. A brave—or stupid—idea. “How about you come with me to The Sinner’s Web concert next weekend, and we will call it even?”

This was so unprofessional. He shouldn’t be asking a client out, especially in such a shitty way. But he felt drawn to Marisol, and he was never one to ignore his impulses. Which either went really well for him—or very badly.

He hoped for the former this time.

“You…have tickets?” she asked like she didn’t believe him. Which was fair.

Cisco got out his phone and scrolled through his email until he found the receipt. He showed her the proof for two concert tickets for next weekend at seven p.m. He had been planning on taking Tiny, but…he could make it up to her later.

"I've never been to a concert before.” She glanced between him and the phone as if weighing his suggestion.

He tried to mask his excitement with a neutral expression, though he wasn’t sure he pulled it off. “I couldn’t think of a better first concert than this one.”

“Can I…erm, think about it?” she asked.

Cisco tried to hide his disappointment. It wasn’t a no…but it also wasn’t a yes. He supposed it was the best he could hope for after springing it on a woman he just met.

“Yeah, of course. You have my number.”

Marisol seemed surprised by his reaction, like she expected him to be pissed. She looked at him strangely before smiling. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” she said as if he had just proposed a business meeting rather than a date.

Just like that, Marisol walked past him and out of his studio. It wasn’t until he heard the bell atop the door signaling she left that he realized he didn’t have her number. All he could do was wait and hope she’d actually text him back.

He hoped she did because he had a feeling there was more to Marisol than met the eye.

CHAPTER 6

Marisol

No one told Marisol about the intense need to scratch the healing tattoo on her thigh. The need to dig her nails into her flesh and scratch the itch that’d been driving her crazy for the last two days was strong. Multiple times, she had nearly caved, but each time she looked down at the beautiful goddess on her thigh, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even if that left her in agony.

Marisol studied the aftercare instructions Cisco gave her like she would be having a quiz on them at the end of the week. She had run out of the unscented lotion sample Cisco gave her, which helped the itchiness and the peeling of her tattoo. She was tempted to call him to ask what brand it was, but then she would have to give him an answer about the date.

Was it even a date?

Part of her wanted to go. She had never been to a concert before except a few orchestra concerts her parents dragged her to for charity, but those weren’t exactly the epitome of fun. It was just another way to flaunt their money and parade theirgenerosity around—because giving to charity only counted when others took notice of your good deeds.

But another part of her couldn’t ignore the undeniable truth she was still—technically—married to Archie. The thought settled over her like a weight, heavy and unshakable. They were separated, their lives split down the middle, yet on paper, she still carried his name, still wore the title of his wife.

Did that mean she wasn’t allowed to go on a date with someone else? Was there some unspoken rule, some invisible boundary she would be crossing? She had no idea how any of this worked. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a quiet, persistent whisper in the back of her mind, making her hesitate just enough to feel the conflict twisting inside her.

She was getting distracted. Bottom line was that, as much as she wanted to attend, she didn’t know if she would actually say yes. She still had time to answer, even if she felt bad for stringing Cisco along in the process.

Marisol pulled up to her favorite beauty store that carried various skin care lotions, hoping she’d find something unscented with healing properties. The store was busy for a Thursday afternoon.Did these people have a job to be at?she wondered, annoyed by the number of bodies here. Technically, the same argument could be said about her, but she didn’t have a job. Other than playing the role of the perfect daughter so her parents didn’t cut her off.

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