Page 158 of Best Served Cold

“Yeah,” River and I said as one.

“Did you sign the release form, Zane?”

“I did.”

“Do you promise not to sue me if your man fucks up and you hate it?”

“Not you too.” Noah groaned. “You’re my mentor. Aren’t you supposed to be building me up and getting me hyped for this?”

“You’re right.” Ben put down his pencil and focused on Noah, a big, cheesy grin on his face. “You got this, Noah. I believe in you!” He picked up his pencil and bent back over his sketchbook. “Better?” he deadpanned.

“That was some A-plus work, boss.” Noah chuckled and picked up the tattoo gun. “Ready?”

With a nod, I leaned back in my chair and relaxed. I didn’t know what it said about me, but tattoos weren’t painful. Some places were more sensitive than others, and anything directly over bone hurt like a mother, but most of the time it was more of an aggravating scratching sensation than pain.

I’d fallen asleep multiple times in the tattoo chair. I wouldn’t be sleeping through this one, though.

The buzz of the gun filled the space, then Noah’s strong fingers were pulling the skin of my inner arm taut.

Rather than watch what he was doing, I focused on his face, tracing my gaze over his strong features and that beard I loved to rub my face against.

The needle scraped over my skin. Still, I didn’t look down. I wanted to be surprised when he was done.

“What the…”

I tore my gaze from Noah and swung it toward River. “What?” I asked. He looked at his phone screen, making a face like he was doing math.

“Nick’s in the group chat but his messages don’t make sense.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“No.” He squinted at the screen. “Oh shit.”

“What?” I said again.

River cackled. “He’s sexting with Evan.”

“In the group chat?” Noah asked, never taking his eyes off my arm.

“Unless he meant to send us a dick pic.” River turned off his phone and tucked it in his pocket. “Poor Evan is missing some top-shelf content. How long do you think it’ll take him to notice he’s sexting us and not his man? Oh my god.” River straightened in his chair and fished his phone out of his pocket.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s gonna answer Nick,” Noah said, his voice low and measured in concentration.

“You are?”

“Gotta before Gray or Quinn does.” River scrolled on his phone. “Just need to find the right pic.”

“Do you still have the ones from that promo thing you guys did a few years ago?” Noah asked, pausing his work to look at River. “The cowboy theme-night one?”

“Oh fuck. I’d forgotten about that one.” River snickered. “That’s perfect.”

“How’re you doing?” Noah asked me, the gentle scrape of the needles on my skin resuming as he worked.

“I’m good. How about you?” I took a close look at his eyes. Noah was good at masking, but I could always read his eyes.

“Really good.” He tossed me a quick smile.

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