Page 23 of Ink Me Three Times
"Alright," I say, sliding on a fresh pair of gloves. "You still want that piece on the upper arm?"
He nods. "Yeah. Snake through the wildflowers. Something that says I am chaos but make it sexy."
"You’re the worst," I mutter.
"True. But I tip well."
I roll my eyes. "Try not to move."
"I’ll try not to breathe."
"Better."
I press the stencil to Silas’s arm.
The buzz of the machine kicks on, grounding me.
And of course, that’s exactly when Silas decides to open his mouth again.
"So," he says over the hum, like we’re not about to be locked in a couple hours of ink and pain, "you ever think about riding again?"
My brow furrows. "Riding what?"
"Horses. Like a real man. You know, the majestic beasts God put on this earth to test your patience and your hamstrings."
"Hard pass," I mutter, eyes on the first clean line I drag across his arm. "Last time I was on a horse, I dislocated my shoulder and swore vengeance."
He snorts. "You had the wrong horse. And the wrong guide. You need theSunridge Ranchexperience. We do it right out there."
Here we go.
He settles in deeper, voice taking on that easy promotional drawl that means he’s about to run his damn mouth for a while.
"Boone’s got the place running smoother than ever," Silas says. "We’re booked solid for summer lessons. Kids, couples, bachelorette groups who wanna pretend they’re in a Hallmark movie. Hmm actually maybe not… you’d hate it."
"Sounds like it."
"Rescue side’s growing too. Got two new foals last week. Rowan named one of ’em Moonbeam. Don’t ask."
I pause just long enough to arch a brow. "Moonbeam?"
Silas grins. "Yeah, well, he’s soft. But good at his job, so…"
I let out a little laugh, glad not to be thinking about Ivy.
If only for a moment…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ivy
It’s beena couple of weeks now, and I’m not saying Penny Fletcher is a demon disguised as a child… but I’m also notnotsaying that.
Only a crazy person would try to jump off a kitchen stool using a dish towel as a cape while shouting "I am a warlock!" Or negotiate bedtime with the tenacity of a hostage negotiator on their third divorce.
And only a sweetheart like Penny could melt my sarcasm lined heart with a sticky grin and the quiet, "I like your tattoos. You look like a superhero."
God help me. I’m going soft.
