Page 1 of Protected By the Mountain Man

1

DYLAN

“Ineed a tramp stamp.”

I barely had time to look up from my laptop screen when those words filled the air around me. The door chime had announced a customer’s entrance, and now her words were punctuated by the door slapping shut.

Once my gaze landed on her, though, I couldn’t look away. She was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen, and my tattoo parlor was a revolving door of beautiful women—none wanting tramp stamps.

“First of all, it’s called a lower back tattoo.” I sat back in my chair and stared at her. “Secondly, you sure about that?”

She nodded. “Positive. How much does it cost and how long does it take?”

Now she had my full attention. I rolled my chair back even farther and swiveled until I was fully facing her. The counter blocked her view of the lower part of my body, which was probably a good thing. The thought of her lifting up her shirt and giving me access to her lower back had my dick suddenly on full alert.

“Have you ever had a tattoo?” I asked.

The woman shook her head and took several steps toward me. The closer she got, the more details I could make out on that perfect face. She had a mole on her left cheek and the most expressive blue-green eyes I’d ever seen, framed by long lashes. Her eyebrows were a couple of shades darker than her reddish-brown hair, making her eyes stand out even more.

“No, it was against the rules,” she said. “No drinking, smoking, tattoos, drugs, kissing boys, kissing men, cussing?—”

Wait, wait, wait. “No kissing men? What rules are these exactly?”

“I just graduated from a private college in Florida,” she said. “We had rules.”

College. So she was young. She was tall with curves for days, and those intense eyes looked like they’d experienced things. I would have definitely put her in her mid to late twenties. But if she’d recently graduated college, she’d be in her early twenties, right?

“I’m thinking fairies,” she said.

Fairies. It took me a second to remember what we’d been discussing. Tattoos. She wanted a fairy tattoo? No, fairies, plural.

“Fairies on your back?” I asked.

She nodded. “Fairies are against our religion too. Anything magical. I thought about four-leaf clovers, maybe even a spirit board. That one would freak everyone out.”

I’d inked a lot of designs in my time, but a spirit board had never been one of them. I’d done plenty of four-leaf clovers in the twelve years I’d been running this place, though. But that tended to be a male thing. Women usually came in wanting angels and cartoon renditions of their pets.

“Let me grab the book,” I said.

I pulled out the book of tattoo samples I kept behind the counter, setting it on the ledge. The teenager I’d had working this front desk had quit suddenly, leaving me here alone. Most of the time, I just snatched up my laptop and headed to the back room when I had a customer, but I hated leaving the lobby unattended. I definitely needed to find someone soon.

The woman eyed me a few extra seconds, then moved to stand on the other side of the counter. She opened the book and began slowly flipping pages. Normally, I’d leave her to it, but I couldn’t bring myself to disengage from her.

“So, this is a way to celebrate leaving that private college behind?” I asked.

I assumed it was some sort of religious college. I couldn’t imagine another type of college putting those kinds of restrictions on students.

“Nope.” She shook her head. “This one’s for my mom and her judgy sisters. We have a big family reunion at the beach later this summer, and I plan to show everyone this is my life. From now on, I do what I want.

“So why your lower back?” I asked. “Wouldn’t an arm or leg be more scandalous?”

She looked up at me, then glanced at her arm. “I’m a teacher. I just got a job at Rosewood Ridge Elementary for the fall semester. I’d hate to set it up so I could never wear short-sleeved shirts to work.”

“We could do it above the sleeve,” I said. “Or maybe on your thigh.”

I wanted to plop back down in the seat, but I couldn’t. At the thought of moving my tattoo gun over her bare inner thigh, my erection began putting even more pressure on my jeans.

“What about my right breast?” she asked.

---