Page 37 of Ink & Desire

“But you want to sleep with that one,” she accuses.

It takes less than a second for my face to betray me.

“Ha!” Henley shouts, pointing at me. “I knew it! That’s why you sounded weird about her on the phone.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” I hiss, leaning close.

“Sorry,” she whispers, her face still lit up with delight. “So? Are you?”

“Am I what?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes like I’m dense. “Going to sleep with the cute, new apprentice?”

“Her name’s Avery,” I bite off. “And no. I’m not.”

She glances back over to where Avery is finishing off her brownie and wiping her mouth on a napkin.

“That’s too bad,” she says. “Is it because you’re too old for her?”

“First of all,” I say. “I’m not that fucking old.”

She ignores me as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “If you’re not going to go for it, can I?”

“God damn it, Henley,” I say. “I really will tattoo an asshole on you.”

She laughs. “You will not.”

I glare at her. “Try me.”

She holds up both hands in surrender. “Okay, fine,” she says. “No hitting on your girlfriend—I mean, apprentice.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “I don’t know why I even talk to you.”

“Yes, you do,” she says. “You adore me.”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

“Careful,” she says, totally unbothered. “I know how you feel about liars.”

“Can we change the subject?” I ask.

“Fine,” she sighs. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

“I still think you should go for it with the hot apprentice,” she says.

I grind my teeth against the urge to scream in frustration. “Henley…”

“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll let it go. For now.”

I don’t believe it for a second. When Henley latches onto something, she’s like a dog with a bone. She won’t let it go until something more interesting comes along. I can already feel a headache forming at the base of my skull. I love my sister. I really do. I’d take a bullet for her. But the problem with someone knowing you as well as Henley and I know one another is that we both know exactly which buttons to press to irritate the shit out of each other. And we utilize that information as often as possible. Henley probably does it more than I do, but I attribute that to her being the younger sister. It’s probably something ingrained in her since birth.

“How’s work?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Same old.”

“Didn’t you just land some big promotion? That’s gotta be different, right?”

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