Page 14 of Love at First Ink

And now he was a first-generation college graduate with two, almost three successful business endeavors. His immigrantparents didn’t like tattoos, but they were still fiercely proud of him. Cisco thought he was getting his mom more on board with tattoos, and he secretly hoped he would be able to give her a small one. He’d happily risk his father’s wrath. It would be worth it.

The sweltering heat hit his body the moment they stepped out of the building. The weather didn’t seem to deter the groups of people walking down the sidewalk. The sushi restaurant across the street was particularly popular, with a line starting to form on the street. A large handmade sign indicated it was happy hour and advertised all their happy hour deals.

“Look, you’ll be next to a popular restaurant and a wine store that’s opening soon.” Ernesto gestured to the stucco building next door. It looked like the building was pulled out of a picturesque town in Italy and moved here. A trellis with leafy vines decorated the front of the store. By the window was an arrangement of colorful potted plants. The curb appeal of the wine shop was hard to resist.

“Too bad wine sucks,” Ernesto mumbled under his breath.

As if summoning the winemakers themselves, the door opened on the shop, chiming a bell from up above the door frame. An older, stout white man stepped out first. His salt-and-pepper hair—or rather what was left of it because of his receding hairline—was cropped close to his head, neat and tidy. He was clean-shaven and wore neatly pressed brown trousers with a bright yellow polo shirt. He looked as if he could be on his way to go golfing. The man exuded wealth, reminding him of someone’s rich grandpa who enjoyed spoiling his grandchildren.

Then a woman stepped out behind him. She was younger, with a darker complexion the color of clay. He nearly looked away until he caught her features in his peripheral vision. Long,dark hair covered her face, but Cisco didn’t need to see it to know those long, gorgeous legs belonged to Marisol.

Who had still not answered him about the concert.

Before he could fully think out his plan, Cisco changed directions and started to walk toward the mysterious older man and Marisol. “Hey, where ya going?” Ernesto asked, but Cisco ignored him. Neither the man nor Marisol took notice of Cisco until he was right in front of them.

Cisco watched all the color drain from Marisol’s face, her eyes widening at his abrupt appearance. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction. She probably thought she was free of him.

“Hi,” was his brilliant greeting. Now the attention of the older man was on him too. He didn’t seem mad, just curious.

“Hi there. Are you here about the opening?” the man asked.

Cisco didn’t understand what he meant until he saw the red and white “Help Wanted” sign hung precariously on the window.

“Oh, no. Actually, I’m interested in purchasing the building next door.” Cisco gestured to the neighboring shop.

The man stuck out his bottom lip and nodded as if Cisco had just gotten a right answer on a test. “You don’t say? What business are you in?”

“Tattooing. Looking to open my next tattoo shop here.” Cisco waited for judgment to follow.

To the man’s credit, he only looked more intrigued. “Fascinating. What does that entail?” He looked ready to hear Cisco’s full business plan. Talking about his business was not the reason Cisco approached the two of them. He wanted to speak to Marisol, who had still not acknowledged his presence other than shock.

He didn’t know how to get out of this conversation andwas about to share his business plan with this strange man before Marisol found her voice. She gently touched the man’s arm, and he turned to face her. His face softened as he smiled.

“Daddy,” she started, answering Cisco’s unasked question about their relationship. “Do you mind waiting for me in the car? Cisco is a…friend. I want to catch up with him really quickly.” She batted her long eyelashes at her father, who nodded.

“Travis Roberts,” he said, extending his hand.

Cisco took it. “Francisco Ramos, but you can call me Cisco.”

“It was nice to meet you, Cisco,” he said and let his hand drop. He leaned over to kiss Marisol’s forehead before heading to a black Bentley, leaving the two of them alone.

Marisol rounded on Cisco. “What are you doing here?” she asked accusatorially, as if he planned on following her.

“I really was here to look at the shop next door,” he said. “I had no idea it was next to”—he looked back at the wine store and gestured to it—“this.”

“Yeah, my father owns a winery and has outsourced to local shops for years. This is his first brick and mortar shop,” she explained, eyes darting between Cisco and the car. The windows were tinted, but he’d bet her father was watching their entire interaction. It explained why Marisol was so stiff and looked ready to bolt. She had been tense in his chair, but eventually eased up. He doubted he’d get the same reaction from her now.

He had a unique opportunity at hand, and although it wasn’t the ideal time, he didn’t want to waste it. “About next Saturday?—”

“It’s fine if you want to take someone else,” Marisol interrupted. “I know you were just being kind.”

Being kind was opening the door for her or picking up something she dropped. No, Cisco wasn’t being kind. He was interested. “No, the offer still stands. I would like for you to go with me.”

“Oh,” she said softly, an undeniable smile ghosting her lips.

Of course, he could be interpreting her nervousness for reluctance, and maybe she was not interested in going out with him. That would suck, but he would accept her no.

“I…still haven’t had time to check my calendar. Can I let you know tomorrow? I have your number still.”

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