“You’re in college?” I asked.
Ingrid nodded. “Online…”
That was unusual. Most people wanted the full college experience: life on campus, crazy parties, nights that served them a lifetime of memories. But then, Ingrid didn’t seem like that sort of girl. She’d seemed shy that first night in the tattoo parlor. She only seemed shier now.
“Why online?”
“My mama and papa always wanted me to do school at home, and they haven’t changed their minds since I was in kindergarten.”
“Really?” I asked. It was strange—controlling, actually. But it tracked far too easily with the girl who couldn’t walk into a tattoo shop without shaking just the other day.
She nodded.
Then it was quiet. Again, she looked almost afraid. But I didn’t think she was afraid ofme. She kept glancing in my direction, her eyes so innocent in that doll-like face, then away, then back again, as if she couldn’t help herself.
Her fingers tugged at the sleeves of my hoodie.
“Feeling warmer now?”
She nodded. “Thanks.” Then another rush of red flooded her face. “Oh, but it’s yours. You can have it back.”
She moved to slip it down her shoulders, but I reached over the table and stopped her.
“You can keep it.”
Her eyes widened slightly. When I pulled away, her mouth softened into the faintest pout, gone just as quick, but I caught it.
Something low tugged at me.
I shouldn’t have been happy she liked my attention, but oddly enough I was…
I also shouldn’t have wanted to pull her against me. To tuck her under my arm. To smell that faint vanilla heat in her hair again. But I did.
But I didn’t exactly have the time for that; my shift was coming up fast.
The idea of leaving her, though… it didn’t sit right.
Licking my lips, I said, “I’m heading to the shop. Got a shift this afternoon. You want to come?”
She was hesitant. Again, that little flicker of fear crossed her features. I was certain it wasn’t anything to do with me, now. What she was afraid of, though, I had no idea.
After a moment raging a war behind her eyes, she gave a timid nod. “OK.”
We slid out of the booth. I made sure she pulled my hoodie tight and put her own coat over it—she looked like a pile of laundry, but at least she was warm. I ignored the voice that said she now smelled like me too.
As we headed for the door, she looked up at me, “Oh, but didn’t you come in for a coffee?”
“I did,” I muttered, coffee forgotten. She was the only thing on my mind now. “Don’t need it anymore.”
It was a short walk to the shop. We made small talk on the way. Ingrid seemed nervous throughout. She would steal glances at me when I wasn’t looking. I caught them in the corners of my eye. When she did, she’d run her fingers across the sleeves of my hoodie again, slow and careful, as if imprinting each of the little contours of the sewing into her mind.
When we entered the shop, the smell of antiseptic and ink hit us. I made eye contact with Kane and James. James was at work on a client, and he gave a small eyebrow waggle at the sight of Ingrid trailing behind me like a lost puppy. Kane was disinfecting a station that had just been vacated. He spotted Ingrid, frowned, then hurried over.
“You good, man?”
I gave him a short nod. Of course, he wasn’t asking just if I was OK; he meant about the assault, and my afternoon in holding. He was smart enough not to mention it in front of Ingrid though, and I gave him a subtle look to indicate my appreciation. She’d spotted my knuckles inthe café, and seemed to accept my answer about them, but for now it was best to keep the altercation with Brandon on the down-low. Didn’t want to scare her off.
Kane didn’t push. We’d probably talk about it later. Instead, his gaze settled on the shivering woman beside me. “Nice to see you again, Ingrid.” He looked hopefully behind her, to the door. “Amber and May not with you?”
