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I want to know what’s going on in there. I want to check out the size of the dance floor, taste the allegedly awful draft beer, and feel the music pulsing through my bones.
I’m about to ask Kitty if she wants to duck into the bar for a look around before we head to the diner—just to check it out for future dancing possibilities— when Kitty stops dead in her tracks on the sidewalk and squeezes my arm tight enough to make me squeak in surprise.
“Melody, is that who I think it is?” she hisses beneath her breath.
“Who?” I look around, but there’s no one else on the sidewalk on either side of the street. “Where?” I ask again in my normal voice.
“Hush! There, in the tattoo shop,” Kitty whispers. “The red sign. Big. Glowing. Says Tattoo in all caps.”
My eyes widen as I home in on the neon sign affixed to the brick edifice above the store to our right. The shop was a crafting supply store for about a year but has languished empty since Craft Happy went out of business. The Main Street area is a hopping place, but this end of downtown is older and more faded than the refurbished buildings closer to the square. The landlord of this store always seems to have a problem retaining renters. Every business that opens ends up closing within a year or less.
Sadly, I doubt the newest tenants will do much better. They’ll be lucky to last until Christmas.
“A tattoo shop.” I arch a brow, laughter in my voice. “In downtown Bliss River? What were they thinking?”
“Maybe he was thinking he’s tired of working as a part time cater-waiter. That’s Nick, right?” Kitty points a discreet, but jabby, finger toward the shop window.
I follow the direction of the jab. There, on a rolling stool, tattoo gun in hand in the brightly lit shop, is none other than Nick Geary.
As always, his dark brown hair is carefully spiked, sprouting wildly around his head, but instead of a tray of champagne flutes, his magnetic green eyes are focused on the beefy forearm of a bald man in a Harley Davidson tee shirt.
The moment I lay eyes on him, my tequila-numbed synapses snap and flicker. I remember Nick said he used to work in a tattoo parlor in Atlanta, but I had no idea he was planning to open a shop in Bliss River.
Did he mention that?
Surely he didn’t, or I would have remembered.
For better or worse, I tend to remember every word that spills from Nick’s smirky, sexy mouth.
Silently, I wish this shop a long, happy life. Nick is even more handsome with that look of complete concentration on his face.
I watch, mesmerized, as he deftly guides the buzzing needle across the man’s skin with an assurance that makes it clear he’s achieved mastery of his craft. The muscles in his arms flex deliciously as he works, drawing attention to the tattoos trailing from beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt, making my breath come faster even before Kitty says—
“We should go in and say hi.”
I gulp and freeze, anxiety dumping into my bloodstream.
Am I ready to face off with Nick right now? I never used to be nervous around boys, even boys I thought were cute, but that was B.N.G.—Before Nick Geary. Before he made me tongue tied. Before he remained unfazed by my gifts of mouth-orgasm-inducing cookies. Before he made it clear my flirting game isn’t nearly as solid as I’d assumed before he proved immune to it.
I only dated a handful of boys during high school, culinary school, and the years since, but my affection was always returned. My crushes always crushed back.
Until now.
Now I’m off kilter, off my game, and anything but smooth. Every time I run into Nick outside of work, when I’m prepared for an encounter with the object of my unrequited affection, I feel like I’m stuck in an anxiety dream, the one where it’s opening night of the school play, and I don’t have a single line memorized.
“Okay, but what do I say?” I ask, biting my lip.
Kitty shrugs. “Um…hi? What’s up? When did you open the shop? Why don’t you want to have wild, passionate sex with me? Or I could ask for you.”
I squeeze Kitty’s arm. “If you say that, I will kill you. Dead. Or at the very least carve out your tongue and keep it in my pocket.”
“Gross.” Kitty giggles. “You never would have said something like that before. Seriously, woman, this crush is affecting you in strange and mysterious ways.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling terrible. “Are you mad?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” She rolls her eyes. “I like the wilder Melody. She’s more fun to go drinking with, but you need to face your fear.” She tugs me toward the door. “Come on, let’s go in. I’ll say I’m thinking about getting a tattoo. I want to meet this boy who’s too dumb to see how awesome you are and make sure he sees you in this insanely hot dress.”
