Page 164 of Jesse's Girl

“Murphy’s a good judge of character,” Jude offers, putting his arm around Olena.

I smile down at Ada.

She peers up at me, laughing in surprise when Murphy licks her cheek. She’s beautiful.

“So what did you win, anyway?” I ask, eyeing the envelope she has tucked away. “I didn’t even see you bid on anything.”

She stops petting the dog long enough to hand it to me.

I turn it over in my hand. The logo for Rare Bird Tattoos is stamped on the front. I give her a look.

“I’ll design you one,” she promises. “If you want, I mean. And if you don’t want to use it, I can?—”

“Nah,” I say, tapping the edge of the envelope against my open palm. “I’ll use it. And actually… I’ve already got an idea of what I might want.”

EPILOGUE

ADA

Six months later

I start the car to get the heat blasting as Jesse climbs in, then tug my scarf up around my chin; it’s fucking cold, even for early March.

“Okay… well?” I tuck my hands under my thighs for warmth.

“Well what?”

Is he fucking kidding me?

“Seriously, Jess, the secrecy is going to destroy me. Can you just show me already?”

“So impatient. You don’t wanna drive home first?”

“I’ve been plenty patient!” I twist in the driver’s seat to face him. “You’ve been putting this off for months and wouldn’t even let me know what the design was. Or watch you get the damn thing done.”

“I told you…” He reaches over and cups my jaw, pulling me in for a kiss. “I didn’t want you to try to talk me out of it.”

I drop my shoulders. “That only makes me assume the worst.”

He smirks, sitting back in his seat. “I promise it’s not something ridiculous.”

“Do I have to rip your clothes off myself, or what? Come on.” I gesture at his body, scanning him like I might spontaneously develop X-ray vision to see under his clothes and find this fucking tattoo.

“Okay, okay,” he says, unzipping his thick hoodie and shrugging his left arm out from his sleeve. “Here.”

He rests his arm on the center console of my car, his palm facing up. Tracing a path up the inside of his forearm, covered by the clear dermal wrap, is a simple black line that branches off four times into different leaves and flowers.

I flick my eyes up to his. “This was your big secret? Plants?”

He feigns hurt. “Hey, judgy pants, will you look a little closer?”

I drop my gaze to his arm.

“This is my… wait…” I trail off, momentarily speechless, and swallow. “You got my art tattooed on you?”

“Well, two of them are yours. The others I had the tattoo artist design, matching your style.” At my confused expression, he continues. “You posted your flower sketches online, remember?”

“Wait, what?” I breathe. “You’re the friend Olena texted me about? Who wanted to get my permission to use them?” I’d been so flattered; it had never occurred to me she’d been scheming with Jesse.

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