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He laughs as his fingers massage my calves. “No joke. I should thank tequila because it got you to come home with me.”
“You don’t think you could have sealed the deal if I wasn’t drunk?”
“I want to say yes, but I don’t know if I’m that smooth.”
“Are you kidding me, Fabio? You’re smoother than a dolphin’s belly.”
His eyebrows furrow. “That’s aninterestinganalogy.”
“I still probably would have gone home with you if I wasn’t all loaded up on margs.” I say the words, but I’m not sure I know how true they are. I think that the tequila gave me just the amount of courage I needed to be able to let loose a little. I have no idea how I would have reacted if Tanner had hit on me while I was sober. I haven’t had anyone really hit on me so long that I have no idea how I would react.
But I don’t want to make Tanner feel bad because he really is smooth as sin, and I’m sure he could get any girl he wanted if he really tried… including me.
“There is one thing I always wanted to do,” I tell him. “But it’s silly.”
“Tell me.” he prompts.
“Back in the day, I used to want to write. I always told myself I would put out a romance book. I even used to write stories in notebooks all the time.”
“Why didn’t you ever pursue it?”
“Because Judd hated it. Told me that I would embarrass him if I put out any of thatromance trash.And I just got too busy to even want to mess with it anymore.”
Deciding to change the subject, I ask, “So, what do your tattoos mean?”
With a confident smile, he replies, “Not a damn thing.”
“What do you mean? Don’t people get tattoos based on some sort of deep meaning?”
“I’m sure a lot of people do. When I first started traveling, I was on the road a lot more than I am now. I was gone for sometimes three to four weeks at a time. That was a whole lot of time to kill in the evenings, so I would hit up the local tattoo shop of whatever town or city we were in. I’d walk up to the tattoo artist and tell them to give me whatever they wanted. I’d ask what their favorite tattoos to give were. Some of them gave me cool flowers. Some gave me simple designs. Others gave me intricate masterpieces. But I’d like to think that they’re all a little special because the artist got to do a tattoo that they really and truly enjoyed doing.”
Okay, put another tally in the column for this guy having an absolute heart of gold. I’m not sure I could make any of this up in my head if I tried.
“I think the fact that you did that gives all of your tattoos meaning—at least meaning to the artists who did them.”
He gives a little shrug. “I guess so.”
“I always kind of wanted one but never got around to it.”
“Oh, trust me, beautiful; if you had a tattoo, I would have noticed. I made mental notes of every inch of your body. Why haven’t you gotten one?”
I stifle the urge to tell him that Judd thought they looked trashy, and I didn’t need one more reason for him to find me hideous.
Instead, I just say, “Just never got around to it, I suppose.”
His eyes squint the slightest bit like he wants to ask more, but he resists. “Maybe we can go get you one sometime.”
There’s a loud screaming voice in my head telling me that there will be no tattoo getting because this little fling isn’t going to last past later on today. As wonderful as this has been, it’s fleeting.
And because I'm just not able to help myself, I say, "Unless we go get one in the next couple hours, I don't think that's going to happen."
Why am I like this? Why do I have to ruin this great moment?
“Erin, I know you said this weekend was all you could offer. I respect that, but I also am curious as to why. I get that you’re a mom, and you’re probably busier than I can imagine. But it seems like there’s more to it than that.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Judd and I agreed not to bring relationships around our kids as to not mess them up any more than we probably already have. And even though I don’t have them every other weekend, I don’t think that’s enough time to make a relationship work.”
He nods. “Trust me. I get it. Growing up, I saw way too many guys come and go. It wasn’t an ideal situation.”
