Page 11 of Lock 'em Down

“You like it?” He glances at me over his shoulder as I study his tattoo.

It isn’t finished yet but… “It’s glorious.” The words tumble from my mouth.

Skip points at me. “I like you, little mama.”

“It’s where I feel the most at peace,” Leif admits quietly.

My eyes flick up from the work on his back—a cresting wave, a surfboard adrift, a brilliant sunset—to his face. He’s staring at me like he’s holding his breath. Like this is some sort of test and he’s waiting to see if I pass.

“Like you can block out all the noise and just be,” I murmur.

Surprise, quickly followed by gratitude, flares in his irises. “Exactly. You got something like that, Cam?”

I nod slowly. Obviously, my family knows I like to draw. Sketch. Fashion designs mostly. But they never took it seriously. It was a hobby I had until I had to buckle down and become an adult—study accounting.

But… “Yeah, I do,” I tell Leif. Holding his gaze, I continue, “Drawing. That’s my thing.”

He watches me for a long beat before nodding once. “Your minor.”

“Right.” I bite my bottom lip, glancing around the tattoo parlor. Another night in Spain zips through my mind and I rub the side of my ribs where my first tattoo permanently marks my skin.

A reminder of that semester. A warning to never repeat it.

Skip grabs a stool and rolls over. Glancing between Leif and me, he chuckles under his breath and pulls up a stool for me.

I plop down and smile. “Want me to hold your hand, Leif?”

At that, Skip throws his head back and laughs. “Little mama, fuck, girl, you gotta let me do your next tattoo.”

Leif’s laughing too and then, he sobers. “Wait, Cami, you got any ink?”

Grinning, I nod. Thank God Mom doesn’t know—she would literally go into cardiac arrest.

Leif and Skip exchange a look.

I start to roll up the flimsy material of my shirt and Leif sits up straighter, his expression darting from me to Skip and back again. A protective glint flares in his eyes and I pause. “It’s along my ribs.”

“Damn, that hurts,” Skip mutters, leaning closer to read the words. “Sogno con gli occhi aperti.”

Leif looks at me, his expression bathed in curiosity.

“I dream with open eyes,” I explain.

Skip shakes his head. “That’s deep, little mama.”

I snort. “It was supposed to be in Spanish since I got it in Spain, but I messed up Google translate and got it in Italian.”

Skip laughs and Leif chuckles but his expression searches mine. Again, it’s as though he can see below the surface. Deeper.

Skip gets to work, and Leif takes my hand, surprising us both.

He winks at me, and something shifts between us.

We have another moment.

A real one.

One that changes everything and makes me wish this moment, this night, this man at my side, could be my forever.

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