Page 12 of Lock 'em Down

Four

Leif

She got a freaking tattoo.

Better than that? She drew it. One for me and one for her.

That alone makes this ink more special—it’s a bond we share.

I keep running my thumb over the bandage on her wrist.

She grins at me, shaking her bangs out of her eyes.

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo,” I tell her what I’m thinking.

She snorts. “You did, too!”

“Skip’s been working on that piece for months. Every time I’m in Vegas, I roll through,” I remind her. When I first pushed into Skip’s studio with Cami at my side, I figured she’d balk. A small part of me wished she did.

I wanted her to react to my taking her somewhere random—to a place that wasn’t solely for a hookup. To a place I never take women because my tattoos are sacred to me.

So yeah, a part of me wanted her to push back on the tattoo parlor because letting her in and having her embrace it is a head trip I’m not ready to dissect.

I’m a chill guy. I go with the flow. Hence my nickname—Laid-back Leif.

But Cami? Cami is next-fucking-level cool.

She fingers the bandage on my inner wrist. The tattoo she drew for us. “And this one?”

I chuckle. She’s right. “You regret it?” I hope she doesn’t. But, getting a matching tattoo with a stranger on a whim isn’t something most women I know would be okay with. Hell, if my sister pulled shit like this, my brothers and I would have something to say about it!

Her eyes are navy when they meet mine. “Not even a little bit.”

My smile widens and I tuck this gorgeous woman underneath my arm. It’s late and yet, I’m not ready to turn in. I could walk the streets, just talking with her, until the sun rises. And I’d relish it.

The cocktails Marco concocted have pushed me from tipsy to drunk and it feels good. I’m fucking coasting and I like doing it with a woman I want to learn more about.

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” I say as we cross the street.

She looks up, and those bangs fall into her wide eyes. She’s quiet for a long moment. We get to the other side of the street and keep walking. Vegas is still busy at this time of morning but since we’re not in the heart of things, the crowd’s thinned out.

I think she’s going to brush off my question but then she announces, “I really don’t want to be an accountant.”

“Seriously?” I frown. “Then why are you moving your life across the country? I mean, for a job you don’t really want?”

She shrugs. “I lied. I guess people—my sister Jenna, Izzy and the girls—know I don’t really want to be an accountant. It’s what my parents want for me. A steady, reliable career path. The part no one knows is I took the job because I need space from my family. I want distance. I want hundreds of miles in between us so I can… I don’t know. Breathe,” she tacks on, the word coming out on an exhale.

I hold her closer, understanding immediately what she’s talking about. “Want to let the pressure leak out a little,” I surmise, recalling how my dad pushed my brothers and me in hockey. Hockey always came first and even though deep down, I know he would have supported an alternative career choice, especially under Mom’s guidance, the fact that my brothers and I all play in the NHL isn’t exactly a coincidence. It’s motivated by expectation.

“Exactly.” Cami gives me a soft smile. “Tell me something no one knows.”

I snort and dip my head in agreement. A truth for a truth. “I have a big family and I’ve always been known as the chill, laid-back, go-with-the-flow guy.”

“Yeah,” Cami notes, glancing up at me. “I was surprised when you helped that drunk guy instead of getting into it with him.”

I chuckle. “Would fighting with him help the situation at all?”

“Nope.”

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