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Thankfully there is nothing connecting Lenox to any of this. No one will ever know he’s the one who brought Alfie and Ezra down. He’s simply my hot, muscled, tattooing husband.
Speaking of…
“I’ve been thinking about the tattoo I want,” I murmur sleepily, even though the urge to smile is overwhelming.
“Oh?” is his only reply, though there is no masking the surprised curiosity in his voice.
“I was thinking about getting a rose on my ring finger. We can be twinsies. Though obviously, I’d want someone skilled doing mine, unlike the guy who did yours.”
He makes a noise at my barb, that’s something close to a mocking chuckle. “A rose? Like mine?”
“Like yours. Only maybe black? You are a rather dark fellow, after all. Oh, but maybe with some gold and blue accents.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You know, if you tattoo a rose like that on you, we’re forever.”
“I assumed that was part of the deal when I said till death do us part.”
“I’m just saying, a contract can be broken. Tattoos are permanent.”
I make a sardonic noise. “They can do all kinds of brilliant things with lasers now, so don’t get too cocky there, hero. But it warms my heart to know you’re already thinking about how breakable our wedding vows are.”
“Your rose isn’t going anywhere. As I said, we’re forever and permanent.” He clears his throat and then tacks on, almost apologetically, “The fingers hurt.”
I balk at that, sitting up and finally opening my eyes so I can glare at my husband. “Are you saying I’m not woman enough to handle it? I birthed a baby in a blizzard, fought—and beat—a man with a gun, and I’m married to you.” I poke his shoulder. “I think something like a little finger tattoo is child’s play after all that.”
His lips bounce, but he turns to give me a brief, taunting look. “Very bold words there, Mrs. Moore.”
“I’m aware, Mr. Monroe.”
“You’re planning on using numbing cream, aren’t you?”
My smile finally slips. “One hundred percent.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “Can we do it now?”
I think on that for a moment, because while I am badass and all tough chic who can take on the world in my heels and red lipstick, the thought of a fucking needle piercing my skin a thousand times scares the ever-loving shit out of me. And I am woman enough to admit that to myself. But I made it through the nose piercing without even a whimper, and that bitch hurt. Only this time, he won’t be able to hold my hand if he’s the one inking it.
What the fuck. It’ll be cool.
“Do I need to call in a prescription or do you carry such creams in your shop?”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers knuckle by knuckle, holding at my ring finger. “We’ll stop and get you some first.”
“Then I’m in. Let’s tat me up. Maybe after I’ll have you tattoo ‘kiss this’, one word on each ass cheek.”
“Except we both know I will, so it’s not exactly the fuck you, you hope it will be.”
Probably true. I do like it when Lenox kisses my ass. And does other things to it. “Fine. I’ll start with the rose, and we’ll go from there.”
He continues to drive us into Maine, bringing us closer to Lavender Lake. I must eventually doze off because suddenly the BMW SUV that freaking Ezra planted his slimy ass in the back of comes to a stop. Evidently, once December hits, Lenox leaves the Shelby in his heated garage in Cambridge for the winter. Boo.
“We’re here,” he whispers, leaning over and kissing me awake. Raising my sunglasses up to the top of my head, I thread my fingers into his hair and hold him close, kissing him soundly.
“Do I have to move? It’s warm in the car and so very cold out there.”
He smiles against my lips. “You wanted a tattoo. We have to get you magic cream first.”
All my bravado crumbles like potato chips. “We could go home first. I could sleep, and you could sleep since I know you didn’t get a lot on the plane and you must be so tired, and you could ink me in my dreams.”
