Page 42 of Playboy’s Purgatory

His gaze shifts between the framed drawing and me with an odd look on his face. I’m not interested in dissecting it at all.

“It’s beautiful,” the words slip from my lips without meaning for them to come loose.

Even though I expect him to look smug or arrogant about the compliment, his face softens into something like surprised gratitude. He has to know he’s extremely talented, right?

I only had to look through his book once to know he doesn’t just own this shop or have a reputation because of the notoriety of the club. He’s found success because he can back it up.

“Getting that done,” he points toward the frame I find myself looking at even when I try to force myself not to, “will take a few sessions because it’s so big. Because of that though, we can be meticulous about where we work and your pain tolerance in certain areas,” his tone is professional.

With a sharp look in his direction, I snap, “Why are you talking like I’m getting that tattoo?”

I don’t need to point to it. We both know what tattoo we’re talking about.

It’s impossible for me to look away.

“If you don’t have any tattoos,” he keeps going like I didn’t just ask him a question, “or if you only have a small one, something this size is going to be a lot more to take on. That doesn’t mean you can’t sit well for it or that it won’t be exactly what you want it to be.”

I find myself nodding without even realizing it. What the fuck am I nodding about? I’m not agreeing to this.

“I never said I was going to get that tattoo,” my words are filled with exasperation and frustration.

Playboy’s brown eyes snag mine. They’re filled with knowing.

“I think this tattoo was meant to be on your body,” his words are a rasp. “You can’t take your eyes off it, and you look at it like it’s already yours.”

I press my lips together because if I don’t then I’m liable to agree with him. I’m not ready to do that.

“I already said it’s beautiful, what more do you want from me?” The bite in my words is vicious.

Playboy doesn’t seem to mind. He leans toward me slightly, his voice dropping to a coaxing purr, “I can see it cost you something to say that out loud. And twice?” He lets out a low, impressed whistle.

Even though I try to fight it, the corners of my mouth tug upward. Thankfully, he doesn’t call me out on it.

“Well,” I stand and hand his portfolio back to him, “I’m glad I looked at your art.”

I almost tell him how impressed I am and how talented he is. At the last second, I’m able to swallow down the words.

He doesn’t deserve them.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I don’t say anything else and head out of Ridge Tattoos. I don’t look back and Playboy doesn’t try to stop me this time.

I can’t believe he almost made me smile. My instincts are screaming at me; I’m in big trouble.

CHAPTER 10

PLAYBOY

I almost drop the bags from Dolly’s Place as I open the door of Bunz Out, but save them at the last moment. It’s the same meal Lara and Vanessa chose the other night when I slid into their booth like I belonged there. Honey helped me out and had a soft smile on her face the entire time she took my order. Saying it was for Vanessa and Lara was more than enough for me to get the inside scoop.

And I swear Stan loaded up on the fries just for us.

I’m more than happy to take all the help I can get. If people pity me for my stupid decisions and want to help me clean up my mess, I’m not going to turn it down.

I hear music coming softly from the kitchen and one of the new employees stands behind the counter with a secret smile on her face when I hold up the bags from Dolly’s. I motion for her to be quiet and point toward the kitchen and get an enthusiastic nod in response.

Bunz Out will be closing in a few minutes, and the cases are mostly empty with the last of the baked goods being packed up. The sitting area is empty and looks like it’s already been wiped down.