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He chuckles and shrugs. “I have my moments.”
I have the sudden urge to change the topic. “Do you have any tattoos? Real ones, I mean?”
He points to his right bicep. “I have a memorial piece for my mom here.” He points to his chest. “Marine corps one here.” He points over his right shoulder. “And a piece for my dad there.”
“Can I see?”
He reaches for the buttons on his chest. Oh God, I didn’t think this through. He exposes his right side and gives me a glorious view of his sculpted abs and chiseled pecs. Sweet baby Jesus, I’ll never get used to seeing him like this, but I sure hope I get to try. My eyes go straight to the dark strip of hair below his belly button leading down into his jeans, and I lick my lips. My eyes trail up the line to the light dusting of hair on his chest. Wetness forms between my legs and I squeeze my thighs together.
He flexes his stomach, and I blink and dart my eyes to his. He smiles at me and my face heats, but I try to ignore it. I take a deep breath as he looks at me with an expectant gaze. Oh yea, his tattoos.
I lean closer to him. The Marine Corps one is faded. The swirling clouds behind the eagle, globe, and anchor symbol bleed into his shoulder and upper bicep and connect with an angel with spread wings. His mom’s name and I’m assuming the day she died is on a ribbon that wraps around the angel’s wrist. It continues down the angel’s robes with the words‘sempre mecum’.
I take in the tiny details of the feathers added for dimension. Intricate black and gray shading makes up the bulk of the tattoo. “It’s beautiful.”
He turns to give me a better view of his shoulder blade. The angel’s other hand reaches towards a California beach scene. There’s a crow flying close to shore. A silhouette of a man stands staring out to sea. Everything but the man and the crow is colorful, the water seems to swirl. Inscribed on top of it all is ‘partum novus via.’ The phrase sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
I’m drawn to the man standing alone on the beach. I reach out a hand and trace my finger over him. Luke looks at me over his shoulder and I touch the letters. Goose bumps form on his soft skin and an electric shock wave blasts through me. I pull my hand away. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine.” He faces me and shrugs into his shirt, buttoning it up. I can’t say I’m not disappointed.
“What do the words mean?”
“‘Always with me’ on my mom’s, and ‘Forge a new path’ on my dad’s. It’s something he always used to say when things got tough. They’re rough Latin translations.”
I nod as he finishes the last button and looks at me. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, losing both of them,” I say.
He looks at the coffee table. “I have Skye, but she was so young. She doesn’t remember much about our mom. She was the best." He smiles, lost in his memories.
“What was she like?” I ask.
“She had the biggest heart and volunteered a lot. She was hilarious. We were always cracking up together. She was a closet nerd. My parents were total geeks. I loved it.”
My grin grows as he speaks. “I would have loved to have a mother like her.”
“You remind me of her. She was fun and sweet, like you.”
My blush creeps into my cheeks, and I smile at him. I doubt he gives that compliment often. “Thank you.”
He clears his throat and adjusts in his seat to face me. “Ok, I showed you mine, now show me yours.” He gives me an excited grin, and I chuckle.
“Oh God, no. Mine is stupid.” I cover my face with my hand and I peek at him through my fingers.
He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s on my hip and I’m wearing a dress,” I explain.
He grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over my legs. “Problem solved.” His grin is triumphant.
I bite my lip. “Ok, but you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
I tuck the blanket under my dress and cover my lap. His eyes dart to my skin as I lift the hem. Three blue quarter-sized hearts are stacked on top of each other. Swirls and stars surround them.
“It’s cute,” he says, smiling. He reaches out and runs his thumb over it. My heart stops beating. I want him to grip my hip and pull me into him, but he pulls back all too soon and I drop my dress.
“I was 18 and rebelling against my dad. The hearts are for us. One for me, my brother, and my dad.”
