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She smiled smugly. “Yeah, she is.”
I filled out the paperwork while she went into a little spiel for new customers. When she finished, I handed it back, and she motioned toward a waiting area.
“Have a seat. Molly’s just finishing up. It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”
I nodded and walked over to a chair that gave me a view of the working area so that when I sat down, I still had eyes on Molly.
Less than a minute later, the front door opened, and two people entered the studio. The man and woman were both attractive, young—probably early twenties—and were holding hands.
“Hey, Dahlia!” the woman said brightly as she approached the desk.
“Fawn!” Dahlia smiled happily, but when the man lifted the hand he was holding to show off a sparkling diamond on his girl’s finger, she screeched and ran around the desk to hug Fawn. “You’re engaged!”
The girls laughed and hugged while the man stood back and watched his fiancée with a soft expression.
“Congratulations, Dale,” Dahlia effused, giving him a quick hug. Then she hopped back and gasped. “Does this mean…?”
Fawn rolled her eyes, but she shifted nervously on her feet. “A deal’s a deal. Do you have time to do it?”
Dahlia clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. “Of course!” Then she put her hand on Fawn’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly. “Relax, girl. You know I’ve got this.”
Fawn sighed and turned to her fiancé with narrowed eyes. “You’re still holding up our end of the deal, right?”
“Absolutely,” he assured her with a firm jerk of his chin before sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
Dahlia grinned and dropped her voice as they continued talking, but their conversation still floated to my ears. I only paid it half attention because I was keeping an eye on Molly.
“Dale, do you know which piercing you're getting?” Dahlia asked. Fawn’s face flushed, and her eyes dropped to the ground, though there was an upward curve to her lips.
Dale’s cheeks turned slightly red. “Um…since I picked the VCH for Fawn, she wants…um…a Prince Albert for me.”
“And the tattoo?”
I stopped paying them any attention when Molly suddenly sat back and set her tattoo machine on the little table beside her. She cleaned up the guy’s tattoo and treated it, finally covering it with gauze. They both stood, and I was mesmerized by Molly’s graceful fluidity. And I got a little lost in the sight of her perfect ass encased in a pair of tight leather pants. Her red curls were pulled up and piled on top of her head, showing off the Silver Ink logo on the back of her black tank top.
She took off a pair of gloves and dropped them into a trash can before walking beside her client to the front. My pants were already tight from how sexy she looked from behind, but seeing her big tits, athletic arms, slender neck, and drop-fucking-gorgeous face, I had to put my ankle on my opposite knee to hide my reaction.
“You know the drill, Buck,” she told the old guy with a smile. “I’ll tell Phyllis you didn’t cry this time.”
Buck glared at her, but there was no real menace in it, or I’d have been between them with my hand around his throat before he could take his next breath. “She wouldn’t believe you,” he finally said with a sigh, making Molly chuckle.
“Molly,” Dahlia interrupted. “Your next appointment is here.” Before Molly could turn in my direction, her sister put her hand on her arm and tipped her chin toward the couple. “Fawn and Dale are here to ‘seal the deal,’” she finished with a giggle.
Molly congratulated them with hugs, making me grit my teeth when the little punk put an arm around her. Even though it was brief and he didn’t linger.
I cleared my throat as I stood, and finally, those emerald-green orbs were trained on me once more.
“Maverick,” she breathed, eyes widening as she recognized me.
I didn’t bother to answer, just smiled and winked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, and I cocked an eyebrow. There was only one reason I would be at Silver Ink, and she was smart enough to know what it was.
With sure strides, I closed the distance between us and grunted, “I warned you, I’d catch you, baby.”
“Molly?” Dahlia’s tone was hesitant as she looked between us. “Is everything okay? Should I call Dad?”
Molly’s head whipped toward her sister, and she groaned. “For the love of all that is holy, donotcall Dad. Good grief, Dahls, I can handle my own shit.”
