Page 19 of Bossy Bred

And she walks right into the shop.

I exhale a low laugh as I follow her in. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing, but she’s taking this too far. I don’t have any interest in wasting anyone’s time here.

“Be with you in a sec!” a man calls out from the back.

I sidle up next to Leta, who is looking at more tattoo artwork under the glass on the front counter. “Leta, let’s get out of here.”

She shakes her head. “No. I want to get a tattoo.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.” Her eyes lift to mine. “I was kidding about getting matching tats. But I actually do want a tattoo. I’ve always wanted one. Why not do it now?”

It takes me a second to process that she’s dead serious. “You really want to get it done here, though? We don’t know the first thing about this place.”

“All the artwork is beautiful.”

“Yeah, but…Leta. Come on. This is a big decision.”

“I’m going to get something small.” Her lashes drop as she looks down at the example artwork. “Like this little butterfly. Isn’t it sweet?”

She’s really serious about this, isn’t she? I dig my phone out of my pocket. “Fine. But I’m looking up reviews of this place before you go through with it.”

While I vet the shop’s reputation, Leta cheerfully greets the tattoo artist who emerges from the back and chats with him about what she’s looking to get done.

“Jake?”

I look up from my phone and see her looking at me, waiting for an answer.

The reviews of the shop I’ve found have been overwhelmingly positive. I still don’t know if this is a great idea, but if it’s something she really wants, I’m not going to stand in her way.

“You’re sure?” I ask.

She nods. “I’m sure.”

“All right. Go for it.”

I’m still feeling protective over her—probably too protective—as we’re shown into the back. Leta looks calm as she gets settled in the tattoo chair, but I’m on edge.

I watch as the tattoo artist preps the spot on Leta’s arm that she’s chosen, then transfers the design and begins to ink it. It’s such a small tattoo that it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to complete. Leta is delighted with how it turns out, and when I lean over to get a closer look, I have to admit that it’s a pretty tattoo.

Afterward, as we’re walking away from the shop, her new ink covered in a bandage, Leta looks over at me with a smile and says, “Thanks for doing that with me, Jake. It was really nice having you there.”

That’s when I realize how glad I was to be there with her, too. It was nice to have that experience together. I want us to have more experiences like that.

“You’re going to bring me with you when you get your next one, right?” I ask.

“Of course.” Her eyes turn teasing. “And maybe you’ll join me next time?”

“I don’t know about that. I don’t think I’m really a tattoo guy.”

“Really? I think it’d look good on you. I can totally picture you with a huge, pissed-off looking dragon wrapped around your thigh.”

I’m about to laugh, but then I see a blur in the corner of my vision—something rushing toward us on the sidewalk. Instinctively, I grab Leta and pull her out of the way and into myarms. I just barely pull her close as a teenager recklessly flies by us on a scooter, grazing our sides.

“Jesus,” I mutter. My heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping through me. “That fucking kid is going to kill someone. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Leta blows out a breath and gives me a slightly shaky smile. “Nice reflexes.”

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