The Rules of Dating My Best Friend's Sister(19)

“Aww… That’s so sweet.”

For the next ten minutes, I gave Lala a tour of the ink on my body. When I got to the cross with the date tattooed below it, I didn’t have to say a thing. It was the date Ryan died. Lala reached out and traced her finger over the outline of the cross. Goose bumps prickled all over my skin.

“I’ve always wanted to get something for him,” she said. “But I’m a big chicken. Does it hurt getting one?”

“A little at the beginning, but it goes numb after a while. Then it’s more tender than painful.”

“Is the skin more sensitive with a tattoo on it?”

“Right after, but not after a few weeks, if that’s what you mean.”

“So this doesn’t hurt any more than it does on regular skin?” She scraped one fingernail down the edge of the cross, and my mind immediately imagined what it would be like to feel her nails do that on my back.

My voice was hoarse. “I’m not sure. Do that again. Harder.”

She dug her nail in a little deeper the second time, and my dick twitched to life.

Fuck. What was I doing? I needed to nip this shit in the bud before I embarrassed myself. Abruptly, I grabbed my shirt, yanked it back on, and stood. “I should get going. I don’t want to be late to my appointment with Billie. You know, in case she’s ready early.”

Smooth, Catalano. Really smooth.

“Oh, okay.” Lala set down her coffee and walked me to the door.

“If you feel up to it, stop down and you can watch Billie work. Maybe it will help you feel more comfortable about getting the one you want for Ryan.”

“Alright. Maybe. Thanks again for the smoothie, Holden.”

I winked. “I’m here to serve.”

Since it really was almost time for my appointment, I went directly downstairs to Billie’s shop. After a five-minute wait, I was lying in her chair.

“What’s new with you, pretty boy?” she asked. “Did you stay in last night or something? You look pretty good for this early on a Saturday.”

I shook my head. “I actually had a gig.”

“Ummm… Last time you were in here the day after a gig, I had to spritz you with cologne because I couldn’t take the smell of the alcohol wafting from your pores.”

“I only had one drink last night. Thought it was a good idea to keep sober.”

“Were you driving?”

“No.”

“So why was it a good idea to keep sober?”

“Lala came out with us. She came to see the band play.”

“And you can’t drink around her for some reason?”

I definitely couldn’t drink around her last night, not with how smokin’ hot she looked. I was too afraid I’d say something—or worse, do something—stupid. But I wasn’t about to get into that with Billie. So I shrugged. “I guess I just didn’t feel like drinking a lot.”

Billie narrowed her eyes. “The apartment she’s staying in is right next to yours, right?”

“Yep.”

“Do you ever go over there?”

“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “If she needs help or something.”

“What kind of help does she need?”

Damn, Billie was like a dog following a scent. So I decided to redirect our convo. “I don’t know, fixing things around the apartment and whatnot. Which reminds me, how’s your dishwasher doing? Colby said the door pops open mid cycle sometimes.”

“It does, and it’s driving me damn nuts because I can’t figure out why. I’ve taken it apart twice.”

“I’ll try to stop over later when Colby gets home and take a look.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Just when I’d finally gotten Billie off the subject of Lala, none other than the woman herself walked into the shop. Billie set her needle down and gave her a hug.

“Hey, Lala,” she said. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You, too, Billie. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. Holden suggested I come since I’d like to get over my fear of getting a tattoo. I’ve never watched anyone get one.”

“Of course not. Pull up a chair. I’ll make sure I push the color extra deep, so we can watch pretty boy here wince.”

Lala smiled. “Pretty boy?”

Billie shrugged. “It’s a fitting name, isn’t it?”

Lala’s eyes washed over my face. “I suppose it is.”

“So you’d like to get a tattoo? Do you have something particular in mind?”

Lala nodded. “I’d like to get one in memory of my brother.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I think something similar to what Holden has for Ryan—a cross, but a lot smaller and a little more feminine.”

Billie’s eyes moved to mine. “Matching tattoos, huh?”

“I think Lala meant a cross, not that it had to match mine,” I said.

“Uh-huh…” Billie grinned. She picked up the tattoo needle and pressed the pedal on the floor with her foot. “Your real name is Laney, right?”

Lala nodded.

“So how did Lala come about?”

Lala smiled and pointed to me. “Pretty boy made it up. When I was eleven, my brother and all of his friends were thirteen and fourteen. Colby, Owen, Brayden, and Holden practically lived at our house. And they talked about girls nonstop—kissing, feeling them up… They had no shame. They didn’t even care if I was in the room. A couple of years makes a big difference at that age, so I still thought it was all gross. A few times when they were bragging about their conquests, I stuck my fingers in my ears. Of course, that only made them talk louder. One afternoon, they were particularly obnoxious with their stories, and I wound up running out of the room with my fingers in my ears, yelling La La La La La. Holden called me Lala the next day, and the name just stuck.”