Page 228 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“Okay, okay, you two. Enough already,” Ken playfully admonishes.

I tear my eyes from Sophie to look at Ken. “She’s nervous.”

He freezes with his watering can perched in the air. “What are you nervous about, doll?”

“I don’t wanna mess it up.” She waves her hand around my body. “All of his artwork is stunning. It’s a little intimidating.”

He chuckles. “Well, that’s because I’ve done it all. But your work is equally stunning. All the pieces you’ve done have been breathtaking.”

“They’ve been small pieces, Ken. This … this is different. It’s bigger.” She bites her bottom lip. “Will you fix it if I mess it up?” she asks.

“Sure, doll, but I won’t need to do shit.” Finished with the conversation because he knows as well as I do that Sophie’s work will be perfect, he returns to his task of watering the plants.

She looks up at me, uncertainty still warring in her eyes. “Do it!” I mouth.

Picking up the gun, she presses it against my bicep, and with one last flick of her eyes to mine, the machine hums to life. Her focus is absolute, and it’s sexy as hell. I relax into the pressure, keeping my eyes on her as she works.

The doorbell sounds and I spot James holding the door open and then his grandad rolls through. They’ve been catching the bus across town once a week to visit since Sophie’s secret came to light. The first time they came, James bolted inside, shouting out for Sophie. Because she’s an awesome mom; she greeted him with love and then promptly explained he needs to be quiet and respectful when he enters so as not to startle anyone. He’s such a great kid that he apologized to everyone and has been on his best behavior ever since.

She’s so focused on what she’s doing that she’s unaware that her family’s here. I told her dad that she was going to tattoo me this afternoon and it would be a great opportunity for him to see his daughter’s talent firsthand, so I’m happy to see that he came.

She lifts the gun from my bicep. “Stop twitching,” she admonishes me.

“James and your dad are here,” I murmur with a raised brow, lifting my chin toward the door.

Her eyes widen and she spins on her stool. “James. Dad.” She places her gun on the trolley and heads over to greet them.

When she releases James, he comes directly to me with wide eyes. “Mom’s tattooing you?”

I ruffle his hair and pull him into me with a chuckle. “Sure is, bud. I couldn’t have everyone else wearing her art and not have some of it for myself.”

“That’s so cool.” His eyes trace every line and curve with interest.

Trevor rolls over to us. He’s still not one hundred percent comfortable with Sophie working here, but his prejudice against people with tattoos has diminished somewhat. “Lincoln.” He dips his chin at me and I take a few steps to him to shake his hand.

“Mr. Chalmers. Good to see you.”

“You too.”

He points to my arm. “Is that Sophie’s artwork?”

I look down at the new lines, not that I need to, but I’ll probably spend a lot of time looking at it because it’s Sophie’s. “Yep. She drew this design on me with a pen a while back when she was practicing. I loved it so much that I want it permanently on my skin.”

He clears his throat as his eyes skim the detailed design. “It’s very good.”

I glance up at Sophie in time to see her hand fly to her mouth and her eyes soften. Her shoulders drop from around her ears; something I’ve noticed happens every time her dad enters my studio. “She’s extremely talented.” I walk over to the table where we normally meet with clients and grab Sophie’s portfolio. “Here are photos of the work she’s done so far. Some of the early pieces are her designs, but my work, the more recent images show Sophie’s work from start to finish.”

He slowly rolls closer as if I’m holding a grenade, not a folder of artwork. I move a chair away so he can sit at the table and then sit beside him. When I open the first page to an image of Natasha’s breasts, he flinches. “I don’t need to see a woman’s breasts. That’s private.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Natasha’s happy to have the image in Sophie’s portfolio. She’s incredibly proud of the artwork Soph designed for her.” I glance up at Sophie as she moves closer.

“She’s a survivor of breast cancer,” I explain.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Trevor says, his tone dripping with sincerity.

“Cancer stole a lot from her. It left her scarred and her self-esteem in ruins. She hated seeing her reflection in the mirror. Natasha heard I specialize in tattooing women who have survived breast cancer, so she came in to claim back her body.”

Sophie sits in the chair on the opposite side of her father and looks at me. “Not only specializes,”—she looks at her dad—“he does them for free because his mom is a breast cancer survivor.”

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