Page 51 of Tessa

“Dax,” Tessa hissed from behind him. “No! This is a really bad idea. I don’t think Beau will like it.”

If she thought that would dissuade him, she really didn’t know where his head was at.

“I just want to see what they have,” he fibbed, pulling her in after him.

Once they were inside, Tessa reacted as he’d expected her to, ooohing and ahhing over pencil drawings of dolphins and bunnies, freaking out over a cartoon drawing of a giraffe. Those were all well and good, but Dax knew he wanted something simpler.

When Tessa sidled up to him, he was looking at a sheet of twenty dollar tattoos. They were the right size, but too basic.

“Pssst.” Tessa sidled up to him. “Would you really get a tattoo?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve always wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t Beau be mad?”

Biting down on his tongue, Dax schooled himself to answer appropriately, like a Daddy would. The problem was that wasn’t how he was feeling at the moment.

Finally giving up, he shot her a devilish grin. “Isn’t that the fun of it?”

She gasped, her eyes bulging in their sockets. “Daddy!” Her whisper was scandalized. “You’re so naughty!”

He didn’t respond, so she waited a beat and then curiosity seemed to get the better of her. “What would you get?”

“I was thinking… I kinda liked yours.”

Her eyes bugged again. “Mine’s temporary!”

Dax grinned. “For now, but it doesn’t have to be.”

She took a step backward, her hands flying to cover her butt. “Uh-uh. No way.”

Dax shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I think I’m gonna do it.”

Tessa worried her lip. The expression on her face said she thought he was playing a prank on her.

“You guys just looking or you looking to get tattooed?”

The artist, a gruff-looking biker dude in a leather vest, with biceps the size of Dax’s head, looked them up and down. Dax puffed out his chest, knowing they looked like the last people on earth who would be getting tattoos.

“I’d like a tattoo, please.”

Biker dude raised his eyebrows. “Where, and of what?”

“I… um… I’d like it on my…” God, why couldn’t he just spit out the words? “On my butt,” he finally sputtered.

Biker dude looked like he was gonna pop a hernia trying not to laugh. “What, you lose a bet or something?”

“No, Sir. That’s what I really want.”

The guy looked him up and down, appearing to reconsider his previous assumptions. “All right, and what did you want?”

“I want a heart, and underneath it I want it to say Daddy’s.” His voice was barely above a whisper and he was two seconds away from turning and running out the door.

To his credit though, Biker dude took this development in stride.

“All right. Size?”

“Like the size of a quarter? Maybe a little bigger?”