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I finish up the last part, wiping it down once more before putting a layer of petroleum jelly over it. I give him the rundown on aftercare instructions when I hear the shop’s bell chime. It must be the owner, Otto’s, last client of the night.
“Hey there, sweetheart, what can I do for you?” Otto says, greeting whoever just walked in. I instantly know it’s not the client in the books.
“I can get a tattoo here, right?” Camille’s French lilt hits my ears like a freight train.
What is she doing here? Since when does she want a tattoo?
Theo bolts out of the room, and I’m right behind him.
“Millie Moo,” he exclaims as he approaches and wraps her up in a one-arm hug because of his shoulder that’s wrapped up.
“Hey, Theo. I forgot you were doing that today. How did it turn out?” she asks, inspecting his new tattoo as he peels back the covering to show her.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” she murmurs, her eyes tracking every intricate line.
“It hurt like a bitch,” he admits, putting the covering back over it.
“He whined the whole time,” I speak up, making Camille’s eyes dart to me. Her silvery blues lock on mine, and in that moment, I wish time could be stopped. Just so I could inspect and capture the fine details of every hue as they work together to make the color that captures me every time I look at her.
Otto breaks the moment, pulling her attention back to him. “You wanted a tattoo, sweetheart? I could probably fit you in before my next client. What are you looking for?”
She smiles shyly. “I want a bouquet of flowers.”
“Sounds easy enough.” Otto eyes her, making me want to gauge his eyes out.
Over my dead body is he tattooing her. Not after what I saw at the club that night.
As if luck shows up on my side, another client walks in.
“Otto, take the new one. I got her,” I tell him, tilting my head toward Camille.
He glares at me, probably not wanting to start an argument in front of them, and I glare back harder. I don’t give a fuck if he fires me later. He’s not going anywhere near her.
“I didn’t even know you wanted a tattoo. You’re a badass!” Theo laughs, giving her a fist bump. “See you later, Ryker. Thanks again.”
“No problem,” I call out to him, then motion for Camille to follow me to my room at the back. “I just need a few minutes to clean up from Theo’s session. You can sit on the chair once I wipe it down.”
Camille nods, taking in the space around her with inquisitive eyes. It’s a typical tattoo artist’s room—a black leather chair in the middle, a station with all of my stuff, and artwork on the walls that I made.
Baseball is everything to me, but tattooing is a different kind of outlet. It’s fun, soothing, and easy for me. Baseball is fun too, but there’s also more pressure.
Camille sits on the chair once I’m done cleaning it while I continue to prepare my station.
“Since when did you want a tattoo, princess?” I ask her.
I don’t miss the way her cheeks redden whenever I call her that. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m still calling her that, to be honest.
“For a while, but I was never allowed to before.” She pauses, her eyes casting a faraway look.
“And now?” I ask as I bring up my design app and begin sketching out a design for her.
“I finally found something I wanted,” she answers, smiling at me.
“Why flowers?” I have no right to ask. As a professional, I know that, but I don’t care much right now. She intrigues me.
“I’ve always loved to garden. I guess I’ve been missing being able to garden since I came here for school and can’t exactly plant a garden in my apartment.”
“I like that. You’re less likely to regret a tattoo if it means something to you.”
