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He flashed a smile that I felt all the way down to my long neglected pussy. “As soon as you set a date.”
“I’ll let you know.” I wanted the tattoo. I needed to get it, no matter how much time it took. Or how bad it hurt. We sat there in a comfortable silence for several long moments, me staring at the peacock feathers and imagining the end result. Tate stared at the tiles, lost in his own thoughts. “So, can I ask you a question without you getting your panties in a twist?”
He grinned, looking every inch the big, tough, biker he was. “Guess it’s a good thing I left my panties at home.”
That was another thing I liked about Tate, he didn’t take things too seriously. “Self-defense. What do you know about it?”
“Uncle Sam taught me to fight. Hand to hand combat, plus a little martial arts. I can help you. If you can help me.”
I stiffened, ready to slice him open with my tongue as soon as he made the inappropriate comment.
“Calm down, Teddy. I want you to help me plan a wedding for Max and Jana. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”
Damn, I was right back to liking him. “Yeah sure, I can help you with that. But be prepared for details. Lots and lots of details. Okay?”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“No problems. Thanks for the awesome artwork, Golden Boy.”
He grinned. “Anytime, Cover Girl.”
I smiled as I left the shop because when he said those words, it didn’t feel like a reminder of who I used to be. It just felt...amazing.
***
“So you want the cornflower napkins and roses to match?” To me, it sounded like the tackiest shit I’d ever heard, but it wasn’t my wedding.
“That’s right. I found the most adorbs cornflower blue lingerie and it totally matches Kip’s eyes, don’tcha think?” Gillian Frye, most recent winner of I Wanna Fall in Love, gushed over her slimy groom to be.
“Sure. And you still want Elvis to marry you?”
She nodded, bleach blonde ponytail bobbing up and down. “My dad loves Elvis and he’d never be able to afford this kind of wedding, so this is kind of for him.”
“I have a few in mind, do you want to audition them?”
Her green eyes went round and wide. “We can do that?” She looked from me to the producer behind the camera.
“Sure, it’ll be great for the show!”
I rolled my eyes as Gillian popped up and sauntered off, her mute by choice bestie tottering after her in matching bubblegum pink heels. “I guess we’re done here,” I mumbled to myself, ignoring the camera aimed at my hands since I refused to sign a consent form to be filmed. “You guys can go now.”
“Why would we do that?” Kip asked as he appeared from the smaller office used by my assistants. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” I stood as he came closer because I wasn’t a fool. It was a hard lesson, but being trapped in a room with one too many pervy photographers and grabby male models had taught me to be aware.
“Well the meeting is over, so you can all be gone.” I made a shooing motion that only made the bastard smile. He let his finger trail up and down my arm, laughing when I smacked his hand away. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself, Kip.”
He grinned again and stepped closer, I pushed him and he stumbled. “Come on, babe. No need to play hard to get.” He did a quick spin and was steady on his feet wearing a shit-eating grin.
Behind my desk I kept a bat. A big aluminum bat that I reached for and smacked the edge of my desk. “Touch me again motherfucker and I swear to God I’ll quit. I will fucking walk away and leave you to do this yourself. Got it?” He nodded, his smile gone as he held his hands up defensively. “Got it?” I asked the producer too. The last fucking thing I needed was to have the bride labeling me a home wrecker on national TV.
“Yeah, we got it.”
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my office and don’t come back without the bride.” When they were gone, I locked the door and let out a long, tense breath. Kip was an asshole and that producer chick was a fucking prick, but I didn’t throat punch anyone so to me, today was a complete success.
And since my day was over, I kicked out the last two assistants and locked the place up for the night. I picked up some sushi and a bottle of gin before heading home.
Where another damn package sat on my porch. I took a few deep breaths and got out of the car, phone in hand as I approached. It was a ticking bomb, I knew that, but who knew with Kip? The box was pink and white, almost like Victoria’s Secret but not quite. Inside was trashy, lacy lingerie, and it was shredded to pieces.
A fucking threat if I ever saw one, so I called the police. Which I immediately regretted.
