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Mac salutes me with a forkful of pancake. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Me, too,” Theo says.

I stay the whole weekend, and watchX-Menmovies, and play with Emily’s cat, and try on her entire collection of animal hats and fuzzy socks and make more cupcakes and mulled cider and a roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings, and stuff my face until I can barely move, and end up curled up in Emily and Logan’s bed with them spooning me while I cry for no reason I can explain.

I go into the shop on Monday and try to lose myself in the ink. Which works just fine, thank you very much, until Mac appears.

two

MAC

There she is,standing behind a spotlessly white counter in her tattoo parlor. Her blue dreadlocks shine like jewels, and she’s got that cocky grin stretching her glossy lips. What a fucking knockout, even if she is ten years too young for me and the exact kind of smart-assed masochist I try to avoid.

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, though. Those sad, sad eyes. They reach down into my gut and twist. I’ve spoken to her for less than ten minutes, but I’d already do almost anything to put a smile in those eyes.

After she and Emily disappeared to shower yesterday, I asked Logan for the brief on her. He wouldn’t tell me much, only that she’s going through a bad time, which is why she’s staying with them. Logan’s submissive can’t leave anything alone that’s hurting. Brenna may not know it yet, but she’s been adopted until she’s through her rough patch.

I shrug out of my cashmere pea-coat and set it on the counter. Have I dressed to impress? Maybe a little. She saw me at my worst yesterday: unwashed, unshaven, in old sweats, limping after a run. That’s not how I want this girl to see me.

Her eyes drift up over my hand-knit, Aran sweater and settle on my eyes. She gives lots of eye-contact. Unusual in a submissive. Bold girl. But I like it.

I set the mermaid design that Emily gave me on the counter next to my coat. “Nice to see you again, Brenna.”

“You, too, Mac. I see Emily gave you the picture. I’m guessing you’re the friend with the bad mermaid.”

I nod.

“How bad is it?” She leans over the counter, which gives an illusion of intimacy in the open plan shop and waggles her eyebrows at me. “Tell the doctor.”

“Really, really bad,” I admit. “I’m embarrassed to show it to you. You’re not going to be impressed.”

She holds up her hands and wiggles her fingers at me. Slender wrists. I want to wrap them in cuffs and rope. And maybe dip those long fingers in latex. That’s not a kink I’ve explored before, but I never ignore an idea that turns me on.

“I’ve seen it all,” she says. “Follow me and I’ll take a look.”

She leads me to a cubicle with a reclining chair, a rolling table and a small sink. Looks like any other tattoo station I’ve seen, but if the design Emily gave me is any indication, Brenna creates magic in this small space.

She pulls a curtain to close off the cubicle. “Whip it out.”

I wink at her before I reach back over my head and pull off the sweater. “Whipping’s usually my line.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says.

“You asked about me?”

“Would I?”

I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tip her face up until her brown eyes meet mine. “Yes, you would, bold girl.”

She smiles, and doesn’t pull away from my hold, and there is definitely a spark in those sad eyes now. “You think I’m bold?”

“I know you are.” I draw her toward me so I can whisper, since I’m not sure how open she is about her kink at work. “When can I have that rain check?”

She licks her lower lip. “I’m closing tonight and tomorrow night. We stay open until ten.”

“I don’t turn into a pumpkin. Ten is fine. But I’d like to take you to dinner before we scene. When do you eat?”

“When I’m working, I just grab a sandwich. But I don’t start until three tomorrow, so we could do lunch.”