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“Is there a problem with the paint on my hand? Like it won’t burn into my skin or be sucked into the metal like a tattoo might?”
“It’s only if there are pieces of metal in a tattoo that you could have gotten in prison. But that is an MRI machine, not this.”
“Good,” she said. “I’m positive there is no metal in my tattoo, but how do you test that?”
Now he was wondering where that tattoo could be. She had long legs flashing in her shorts. Nothing on her ankle or the top of her foot. She had a T-shirt on and he didn’t see anything on her upper arms, so that meant her back or torso. Maybe... Could be lower but no way his mind was going there.
“You’re probably fine,” he said. “But it’s not an issue right now.”
He put the protective vest on her chest and up to her neck to cover her from more exposure. She’d pushed her hair back when he was doing it and he got a whiff of something citrus and did his damnedest not to inhale the scent.
“Sorry about that,” she said when she brushed his arm with that move.
“No worries,” he said. “Keep still.”
He moved out of the way and behind the glass, then hit the button to take the picture. He came back and moved her hand a few more times, got more pictures and then was done.
“You said I can wait with you?”
“You can,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me to my office? It’s pretty quiet and they should be loading soon.”
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s better than sitting in the ER room and listening to the drunk person heaving his guts up.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “So...what were you celebrating if you don’t mind me asking? My guess is paintball victory?”
She laughed. “Nope. Never done it, but it’s on my list to do. Maybe this year, but there is nowhere on the island for it. I know you, but you don’t know me or you’d know what I did for a living.”
“You’re Avery’s friend, Hudson said. He told me Carter got engaged a few days ago. The news hasn’t reached me. But Hudson and I have been working a lot.”
Normally news like that went to his mother first, but she had been on vacation prior so it was possible it hadn’t reached her either.
“I own an art studio on the island. I’m an artist. I was painting tonight. I’d just finished working on a piece calledStormy Night.”
“Perfect for the storm we had earlier.”
“I was lucky the rain stopped before I left the house,” she said. “That was my inspiration. I was ready to clean up my brushes and call it a night and then Beyoncé came on my playlist and the rest is history.”
“Victory dance,” he said. “I might need to see this painting.”
“When it’s done,” she said. “Not sure if it’s going in my studio or in a gallery somewhere. That normally is up to my agent. He has first dibs on everything unless it’s a commissioned piece.”
“Damn,” he said. He had no idea. Guess he didn’t get out much to even know that. “I don’t have a lot of artwork in my place.”
He was lucky he had any pictures on his walls and most were gifts from his family.
“You might need to fix that,” she said.
He saw her wince and felt bad. He’d been moving her hand around to get a good view even though he was positive her finger was broken. He still had to do his job though.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like there is a chorus of ouchies singing on my fingers.”
“That is an interesting description.”
“I’m an interesting person,” she said, grinning at him.
He was starting to see that.
