More Than Lies (More Than #1)(33)

“Then . . .” I stop, not wanting to continue. Continuing means I’m accusing other people of stealing without any proof. “Fuck,” I sigh out in a long breath. Shawn raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, like you’ve never heard that word come out of my mouth before.”

“Sure I have. Maybe once or twice, but only when I provoke you.” He smiles his half smile that normally melts me on spot. “Then what? Finish what you wanted to say.”

“There are only three people that touch the money that comes into this place: Adam, Sabrina, and me.” Sabrina is the receptionist for the tattoo studio. She runs the front. Answers the phones, schedules most of the appointments for the artist, and makes daily deposits to the bank. “I would never steal from Adam or anyone. I—”

“Tara, stop defending yourself to me. I know you wouldn’t and not for a second did that thought ever cross my mind.” He’s serious. I breathe in relief, knowing Shawn believes me. I don’t know how much weight that will hold though; it’s Adam that has to believe me. “I’m going to tell you something, but it stays between us until I’m ready for others to know, okay?”

I nod my head once, telling him I understand and agree.

“I’m buying the studio from Adam. I sign the paperwork and hand over the check on Monday. If someone is stealing money from the business, I need to know ASAP. Whether it’s my friend and soon to be former boss or some little cunt that needs to get a boot in her ass and shoved out the goddamn door, I need to know who and I need to know now.”

I’m startled, but not at his use of the “c” word. I thought Shawn stopped shocking me years ago, but the confession that he is not only staying in Oxford indefinitely, but also he’s going to be the proud owner of a business in three days took my breath away.

I was worried what would happen after graduation. None of us have really talked about it. I know Shawn loves his grandparents’ house, but I also know Chance—Adam’s cousin who is coincidentally another of our brother’s good friends—offered him a spot at his tattoo studio in Las Vegas. I overheard a discussion about it this past summer. Shawn is a talented tattoo artist. His work should be seen everywhere and there’s no better place to get his name out there than in Sin City.

“What do you want me to do?”

“We need to figure out who’s taking the money. I gotta say, I don’t see this being on Adam’s shoulders. I mean, it’s his business. I know he’s disconnected from it and simply put, he sucks at managing—which is another reason I decided to give it a go—but I don’t see him as a thief.”

“So you’re thinking Sabrina, then?”

“I don’t want to think anyone that I work with day in and day out would stoop that low, but sometimes you don’t really know people. People are out for themselves, and a lot don’t care if they harm someone else in getting what they want.”

I stop and think about everything from the past few weeks that I’ve been mulling over. I didn’t really consider someone taking the money. I think I was too worried that Adam would think I screwed up. And even though I know I’m thorough, I considered the fact that maybe I did mess up. A light bulb comes on and I peer up at Shawn.

“You keep an appointment book of everything, right?” I know he does which is why I don’t wait for his reply. “Sabrina keeps an appointment log for all artists, too. If I can add up the costs and what should be deposited daily, then that will tell us if someone is taking money out before it hits the bank.”

“True, but it won’t tell us who.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’ll figure something out. Lie back. Let me wash this shit off you.”

“No way, I want to see it.” I smile and rise, but Shawn places his palm onto my shoulder and stops my movement.

“I don’t think so.”

“I do think so. Now move.” I push his hand off and I sit up. I’m dying to see what a tattoo designed by Shawn might look on me. I’ve wanted one for so long.

“Tara, just let me clean it off.” He looks really nervous. I don’t know why. “It’s not anything worth seeing. It was something I drew up for a chick that decided not to get it done.”

Again, I’m getting the feeling that isn’t true. Shawn isn’t usually one to lie, as in ever.

I push him backwards and get out of the chair before he’s able to stop me. There is a long mirror that runs the length of the back wall. It starts from the ceiling and ends where the countertop begins. The counter is thigh high so that artists can reach for anything they have on it when they are sitting down.

What I see when I look in the mirror has liquid pooling in my eyes.

Freakin’ hell, it’s beautiful and perfect.

Oh, my God.

This is it.

The one.

I have to have this inked on me.

“Shit, Tara, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I told you to let me wash it off. Fuck.” I look in his direction as a tear slides down. God, I’m such a girl sometimes. Shawn looks almost hurt and maybe disappointed.

“I want it,” I declare, because I really do love design. “Oh, my God, this is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Huh?” He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. Let me clean you off now.”