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“You weren’t always.”
“No, I wasn’t. Not sure what happened.”
He never took his eyes off me, so I was forced to meet his gaze.
His very intense, singularly focused gaze.
Did they teach him to do that in Army school? Was it even called Army school? I had no idea about these things.
“And why exactly were you nervous enough to have to take anxiety medication to come here? Do you take that regularly?”
I shook my head. “Only when I fly.”
“Except today.”
“Except today.”
Did his eyes soften a bit? Or was it just wishful thinking?
“You have nothing to be nervous about, Charlee,” he said. “It’s a small tattoo. Will hardly hurt at all.”
It took a second for his words to register. My eyes widened.
“Tattoo?”
“Yeah, tattoo. Didn’t you say you wanted to be my first customer?”
I had completely forgotten about that. Was he serious?
“I. . .” Words escaped me.
“Come here. I’ll show you the design I came up with. Tell me what you think.”
As Lucas walked behind the front desk to the design desk portion of his shop, I followed mutely. He was totally serious. And had come up with a design?
Actually, I’d been nervous to talk to him, but this gave me a good excuse, and I’d take it. I loved tattoos on other people and had always thought about getting one on my wrist. But I knew my parents would flip.
An admittedly stupid reason not to get one.
“So it really doesn’t hurt?” I asked, pretending this was the reason I was so worried.
“I mean, it’s not a massage. But it’s small. Won’t take long.”
He didn’t even know what I wanted. Or where. Or how big. So how could Lucas know how long this would take? But as I followed him, and Lucas turned on the iPad, I looked down.
And gasped.
No. Freaking. Way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
lucas
I had no idea if Charlee had been serious about a tattoo. Knowing her extremely strait-laced parents, I had my doubts. But when she’d said it, her fingers mindlessly playing with her hair, the smooth skin of her wrist exposed. . . I had an idea.
Charlee loved quotes. In high school, she had them everywhere. Her locker. Her notebook. And on those occasions of weakness when I peeked at her social media, it seemed that love affair hadn’t abated any. There was one that appeared more than the others—an English proverb that I’d come to learn about perseverance.
A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner.
