Page 19 of Getting Over You

“I know you don’t want to spend the night with a guy like me,” Cade says. I nod. “But what about being a tourist with one?”

I feign indecision.

Cade looks at me pleadingly. “What, don’t tell me you have some preconceived opposition to tour guides, too.”

“Just the ones with tattoos,” I say. For being annoyed at his presence when he first walked into Beach Brew, I’m happy he’s here with me now. Belinda’s macchiato warms my hand. I hold it up for Cade. “Let me drop this off to her and then we can go… wherever it is that you plan on taking me.”

He grins. “Sounds good, princess.”

“I’m serious,” I say, making my way across the street. “Stop calling me that.”

Chapter eight

“Aguy I met last night,” Gigi says slowly as she slides out of the seat of my truck, “taking me to an abandoned building on the edge of town.” She eases her door shut, wincing as it creaks on its hinges.

“Perfect place for a murder,” I say.

“My murder,” Gigi says.

“Or mine,” I counter.

We’re about ten minutes from downtown, the abandoned shop one of a few businesses on the road. The exterior looks better than I anticipated: all I’d need to do is repaint the brick, stick a sign out front. The inside is another story; I could tell just from the listing’s photos.

I use my hands to shield myself from sunlight as I peer into the building’s front windows. It looks small, but not too small. It’s enough for me to fit a few chairs and a workspace. That’s all I’ll need to get the shop started. After I convince EJ to assist mewith major cleanup. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the building doubled as a landfill with all the pop bottles and paper cups trashing the floors.

“With a nickname like princess, you really think I have the capacity to kill you?” Gigi counters. “That’s bold.”

“You told me you hate the nickname,” I say, stepping back from the window. “You can’t use that as justification that I shouldn’t be scared you’ll hurt me.”

Gigi rolls her eyes. “Why am I here, Cade?”

“I think I may be opening a tattoo shop,” I say. “And I think Geddington Beach might be the place.”

“Wait a minute.” Gigi’s forehead creases as she thinks this over. “You have enough money to justdothat?”

“No.” I shake my head, stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans, and stare down at my sneakers sheepishly. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

“Well.” She steps forward, peering into the building. “It’s not the worst place ever. A little TLC will help.”

“I brought you here because I’ll need help with marketing,” I tell her. She narrows her eyes at me, placing a hand on that delicate curve of her hip. I bite back the urge to put my hands there instead and see if she’s bullshitting me about guys with tattoos.

“Now I’m more confused,” she says. “And a little less certain that you aren’t going to kill me.”

“No, no, no. Listen.” Fuck, I need her to focus. I’m being serious, and she’s making me feel like a wuss about it the longer I talk. “You hate tattoos. My goal is to get a person just like you—who hates tattoos—to be intrigued enough to walk in here. Tell me what I need to do. What will get you?”

“A nice dinner and some compliments,” Gigi muses.

I stare at her, eyes narrowed. “Gigi.”

She giggles. Giggles! My center stiffens, my stomach flipping with a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, smiling still. “Uh… Maybe keep it simple. I bet most people are like me, scared by the whole idea. Maybe pull people in with simplistic work—minimalist.”

I consider this. “I see what you’re saying. Makes sense.”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, bites her lip. “Sorry.”

“No. Hey.” I reach for her without thinking twice about it, my hand looping delicately around her slender wrist. “I like hearing what you think. Like I said, girls who hate tattoos are still part of the target market.”

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