Lee was undressing.
At once, the image of his bare chest was before her. The memory had teased her yesterday and last night, and it pounced on this opportunity to torment her again.
“So, he hasn’t destroyed your house yet?” she asked, feigning a disinterest she didn’t feel.
“Nah, Victor’s a good boy.”
The way he said it let Wren know that he was talking directly to the puppy. It made her smile.
“I keep him closed in the kitchen with his bed and toys, and he knows to go on the paper now — if he has to — so he’s good. When I work during the day, he goes to Camp Bow Wow, and he comes home exhausted. It works out.”
“You take him to doggy daycare?” Wren asked, surprised.
“Of course. I don’t want him to be alone all day,” Lee said, clearly hating the idea. “The longest he’s by himself is when I work nights, and if I could get a sitter for him then, I would.”
“That’s so sweet,” Wren heard herself say.
“I promised you I’d be good to him."
Wren heard a thump followed by a rustling.
“Come up here, boy…”
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to puzzle out the sounds.
“I’m getting into bed, and if Victor curls up by my feet, he’s more likely to bite my toes,” he said. “He sleeps longer if he’s on my chest.”
Lee was in bed? Cuddling up with a puppy? Wren closed her eyes and could almost picture the adorable scene. Then her eyes shot open.
“Are you still wearing the bandage over your tattoo?”
“Yes,” Lee answered through a yawn.
“Well, get up and go take it off,” she instructed. “And put some antibiotic cream on it before you get back in bed.”
“Oh right… I forgot.” By the sound of it, Lee was throwing off the covers and getting out of bed.
“Take care of that and don’t forget to reapply before you go to work tonight,” she said. “And then get some rest.”
“Wait. Are you hanging up?” he asked, sounding displeased.
“Well… yeah,” Wren hedged. “You’re going to bed.”
He was silent for a moment. “Five more minutes.”
Again, his voice was a soft depth she wanted to sink into. “Fine,” she answered, her own voice almost coming out a squeak.
“So, Polysporin…” She heard him rattling around in what she imagined was a medicine cabinet. “That’s not going to mess up the color or anything?”
Wren shook her head “No. Not at all. It’ll help it heal faster and protect you from infection.” Then she shot up in bed, wired tight. “But not MRSA! Did you come into contact with any infected patients today?”
Lee’s chuckle made her shoulders loosen. “No, we actually don’t see a lot of that in the maternity ward,” he told her.
Wren let out a silent sigh of relief. Antibiotic resistant staph had become a menace in the tattoo world in recent years. Studio Ink followed hygiene and sterilization protocols to the letter, but that didn’t mean their clients were immune to infection after they left. A fair number of their male clients worked offshore, and rigs were teeming with the hideous bacteria. Wren knew hospitals were too.
“Well, I hope it stays that way,” she muttered, flopping back down onto her pillows.
“What was that?”
