Repeat(58)
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Are you finished for the day, Leif?”
“Yeah, Shannon and I are heading out for dinner.”
“Is this a first date sort of thing? How exciting.”
He just winks. “We’ll close up as we head out. Have fun, you two.”
A grunt of acknowledgment from my beloved. His lips are set in a distinctly pissy line. “He shouldn’t have been looking at your chest.”
“You’re the one who made me take my shirt off for no reason.”
Now a small smile appears. He’s so devious in his own sweet way. “That was for me. Not for him.”
“Well lock the door next time.”
“I will.”
“Can’t believe you lied to me.”
“What?” He raises a brow. “I said it would be in the way, and it would be in the way. Of my view.”
My eyes narrow.
“Well, you lied to me about letting Gordon sleep on the futon.”
I just smile.
The added benefit of getting another piece of art from Ed on my skin is getting to watch him uninterrupted. Since the tattoo is roughly the span of my hand, it does take a couple of hours. He works seamlessly, interspersing the tattoo gun with a wipe of a paper cloth and some more of the ointment to apparently keep the skin moist and slow the flow of any blood.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks me at some stage.
“Um, how did we meet? You never told me that story.”
He swallows, thinking it over. “Once upon a time, a very charming prince did the banking once a week. And this very charming prince, well he had a thing for one of the women who worked there. There was just something about her . . .”
“I like this story.”
“Me too,” he says.
“So what did the very charming prince do?”
“Ah, well . . . the prince didn’t want to come off as some asshole harassing her in her workplace. So he took his time chatting to her, getting to know her a little more each visit. Of course, he had to start doing the banking more often for security reasons, you know?”
“Sounds legit.”
“That’s right,” he says. “And actually, before the prince could find his balls and figure out a way to ask her on a date that wasn’t sleazy, he saw her out one night. She was with her friends at a bar not too far from her work. Some going-away party for someone.”
“Huh.”
“So the prince just happened to bump into her and they got to talking. A funny thing happened, the prince forgot all about his friends and the girl forgot all about her workmates—”
“Why do you get to be the prince and I’m only the girl?”
“Sorry. The princess forgot all about hanging out with her friends and they talked for hours and hours.”
“What about?”
“Everything and anything. We just talked. It was like we were in our own little world, just the two of us together. And by the time it occurred to us to check on our respective friends, they’d all disappeared. I mean, they’d texted us. But we were obviously very into each other and they hadn’t wanted to interrupt. It wasn’t like we’d been worrying about checking our phones, what with us being so caught up in talking to each other.” When he meets my eyes, his gaze is tender. This is obviously a happy memory. “It was late, really late. So we swapped numbers and I asked you about having dinner with me a couple of nights later and you said yes. Then I walked you to your car.”
“Did we kiss?”
“No, we didn’t kiss until the end of our first date.”
“When did we start having sex?”
“Second date. I made you dinner at my place. Told my roommate to get the hell out and not come back until as late as humanly possible.” Now his smile turns vaguely wicked. It’s a thrilling thing to see. “My poor baby. You couldn’t keep your hands off me any longer. And there was no way I was keeping mine to myself.”
“Sounds sensible. A princess can’t be expected to perform superhuman feats of restraint all the time.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I ask another question?”
He nods. “Go for it.”
“What’s it like to love someone?”
His gaze meets mine for a moment before returning to his work. “That must be strange for you, not having feelings for anyone.”
“Some have developed. I’m not completely unemotional . . . these days at least.”
“But at first when you woke up in the hospital, not knowing anyone.”
“Yeah. I didn’t even recognize my own sister,” I say. “Think I initially probably trusted the doctors and nurses more. I just saw them more often. Or maybe their roles in my life made more sense. I don’t know.”
“So you want to know what love feels like,” he repeats, little lines appearing between his brows. “Of course, there’s the love you have for your family and friends. It’s pretty different to what you can feel for your significant other. I’m guessing the latter is what you’re interested in?”
“Yes.” And it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if I fall under this heading. But I don’t. Go self-restraint.