Page 19 of Maggie

“Ha. No. We’ve met before,” she blurted.

He sounded surprised. “Really? I don’t remember meeting you.”

“When we met, my hair was shorter and dyed.”

Wylder stayed quiet for a moment, then he asked, “Purple?”

“Purple.”

“Holy shit. I knew it.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” Maggie laughed.

Wylder chuckled. He said, “I thought I recognized you, but I convinced myself that there was no way.”

“Nope, it’s me. I’m sorry you had to baby me through my tattoo.” She chuckled nervously.

Wylder laughed. “You did fine. Yeah, you had some starting nerves, but you turned into a pro by the end. You were great.”

“Thank you.”

Wylder went quiet for a moment, then said, “Yours was the last tattoo I did.”

Maggie’s heart stopped beating. “What?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I haven’t tattooed anyone since. Tattooing used to be my life, but I had to leave it behind.”

“Oh Wylder,” she breathed. “Why? What happened?”

“Umm...” He cleared his throat. “I was in a pretty serious car crash and had a lot of injuries. Another driver was high and passed out. His car crossed into my lane in a curve and hit me head-on. I never saw him coming. I broke my arm and my ankle, bad enough that the breaks required surgery. I have metal in both places. I also broke my thumb. The elbow and thumb injuries impacted my precision enough that I worried about messing up any tattoos I did. They’re healed but my hand isn’t as steady as it used to be. I didn’t want to put bad art on people so I stopped tattooing.”

But he loved tattooing... Tears welled in her eyes. Wylder went through all the pain of healing only to have to give up his passion.

“My god, Wylder. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve come to terms with it. I turned to painting more. It’s not the same as tattooing, but it’s something I’ve always done, plus I get to create art, and don’t need precision for it.”

The paintings for sale at the tattoo shop must’ve been his.

“Are you okay? What about your ankle?”

He made an amused noise. “I’m okay, Maggie. I appreciate your concern. I don’t run or dance anymore to minimize the strenuous impact. Sometimes I have a limp if I get tired. But I can do most normal activities.”

Dancing. He’d skirted around her dancing question at the reception. “Did you dance regularly before?”

Wylder chuckled. “I did. Are you surprised? Can’t see me dancing?”

Maggie breathed a laugh. “It does seem a little unusual.”

“Are you stereotyping me? A hunky tattoo artist covered in ink wouldn’t normally dance?” he teased.

“Who said you’re hunky?” she fired back.

“Ohhhhh owww. Insult my ego, will you?” He acted offended.

She laughed through the tears. “Fine. You’re hot, okay? No, it has nothing to do with your looks or ink or anything like that. I don’t know many people who dance at more than the club on Saturday nights. That’s all.”

Wylder laughed. “I’m glad you think I’m hot. You’re pretty beautiful yourself.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I have a big family, and we’re close. My sister convinced me to take dance lessons with my niece. It turned out I loved dancing. I always had fun.”

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