Page 88 of Lost & Found

His voice slid down my spine like warm honey. Low and intentional. My pussy tightened, and the damned thing had the audacity to ache. The thought of his lips going lower, slower, and lingering on my—

God. An even sharper pulse rolled through me, and I had to press my knees together beneath the table. I may have even leaned forward, seeking some friction from my jean shorts. I had no business thinking about him that way. But once the image formed, it refused to leave. I forced myself to breathe.

“You don’t want to know,” I murmured back. “Trust me. But I think you’re wrong. She is not over you, my friend.” I spoke low and in his ear.

Shutting all thoughts of her down, I let my gaze drift toward the window. Technically, Maryland was part of the South. Or close enough. That’s what Google had told me when I went down that rabbit hole a week ago.

A long drive in the right direction could put me closer. Number fourteen. It surfaced without invitation, sketching itself across the inside of my mind like charcoal on canvas. I’d crossed it out once. Re-wrote it. Crossed it out again.

I knew the wording by heart, though. I refused to re-write it a third time. Some things didn’t need ink to stay permanent. God knew I had enough knowledge in that area. Marcel would back me. My brother wouldn’t. Would Pasha?

His shoulder nudged mine. I hadn’t realized I’d gone so far away in my head. His fingers brushed over my wrist beneath the table.

“You okay?” he murmured.

Before I could answer, Lisa called my name.

I blinked, forcing the tension from my expression as I turned back to the table. “I’m sorry. What was that? I was thinking about how beautiful the area is here.”

Lisa’s face glowed, and a look of pride entered her eyes. “I’m so glad you like it. My family used to vacation here every summer, so I’m partial to it. I was wondering about your tattooing skills. Pasha was telling us you own your own studio. That’s so cool.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s newish. But I’ve got a great crew. If you’re ever in the area, I’d be happy to help you with anything.”

“Does it hurt much?” Shelia asked.

I turned my attention to the group of girls and gave them the standard answer to this question, which came up all the time. After explaining about pain tolerance levels, placements, coloring, and sizing of the artwork, I noticed the guys were paying attention, too.

“Do you have any tattoos?” Chase asked.

“Not currently. I know…how can you trust a tattoo artist with no tattoos, right?” I gave off a nervous laugh. “But I’ve got a reason or two to wait.”

And I did. It was a stupid thing, really, silly in that it might never come to pass. I contemplated getting inked right before we opened. My reasoning for waiting was like Victoria’s on holding off on the wedding. And Kinsley’s with having babies. I had secret drawings of distinct tattoos that symbolized us girls. I wanted us to do them together.

“What is the reason?” Hannah asked, and for whatever reason, it came out accusatory. Like it affected her somehow. Weird.

“It’s personal. I’m waiting for someone.”

She crossed her arms and sneered like she wanted more of an explanation. When she realized I had no intention of offering one, she huffed, “Always so secretive, Kinsley and you both. And he wondered why I always had issues with all of you.”

“Oh, I think your issues were more about insecurity, but by all means tell yourself whatever you’d like. I’ve indulged in fantasy a time or two. Nothing wrong there. In fact, I’ve got a great fantasy romance book back at the hotel. Let me know if you are looking for an additional escape. It’s a fascinating story.”

“Excuse me?” she blustered.

Trent put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. She was fuming and pushed him away. I turned back and blinked innocently, as I’d seen Kinsley do a thousand times.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to know about the story? It’s, well, technically, fairy porn. At least, that’s what Pasha calls it. Am I right?”

It was what Victoria called it, but she didn’t need to know that. I moved my gaze to him. He nodded and grabbed his drink.

“If you’re not into that, I can recommend quite a few other romance genres,” I paused.

Damn, my girl Victoria would be proud of me. She’d lectured enough about all the different styles, went on and on about tropes and micro-tropes. This felt like the perfect opportunity to weaponize them. She’d be thrilled to know I’d actually paid enough attention to regurgitate it.

“What are you into?” I tilted my head. “Dragons? Orcs? Werewolves? Maybe demons?” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “No wait—bully romances may be right up your alley.”

Hannah’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. The color in her cheeks rose fast, creeping up toward her temples. Her fork scraped against her plate a little too hard.

“Oh,” she said stiffly. “You think you’re funny.”