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“No,” I answered, but didn’t offer anything else, which made Tristan’s smile even broader.
“You’re really committed to thismysteriousshit, huh?”
I returned his grin as I carefully fixed my shirt, taking pains not to disrupt the plastic covering my tattoo. “Yep. How do I settle up my bill? With you, or at the desk?”
“The desk,” he answered, tipping his head in that direction. “Pri will get you squared away, and give you a kit with some aftercare information, products, all that.”
“Nice. Well… thank you, again, for making the time. And for swooping in the other night, although I could’ve definitely handle it myself.”
He shrugged. “You shouldn’thaveto handle it yourself. Shouldn’t have been shit to handle, really, but… such is life, right?” he asked, carefully peeling his gloves off to dispose. “In any case, I was doing my job. On both counts.”
“Too many peopledon’tdo their jobs for that to go unappreciated, so again… thank you.”
This time, he nodded. “You’re welcome, swee—Tempest,” he remembered, grinning. “Will you at least tell me if I’ll see you around?”
Instead of a direct answer, I hiked my shoulders as I moved toward the open doorframe, knowing now that it wasdefinitelytime to move on.
“Maybe.”
