Page 77 of Virgin Skin

Hero huffs through his nose and drags his fingers through his beard. He seems just as unsure about what to do with his hands as I am, cracking his knuckles then stuffing them into his pockets.

“A heads-up would have been nice,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

We both stare at each other for a long minute. Usually, I’m better at this shit. I’ve always been the voice of reason, the peacemaker, the one who steps in to smooth shit out between everyone else. It’s a hell of a lot harder to know the right thing to say when you’re the one who stepped in shit.

“How long?” he asks.

“We met the night before he came in here and introduced himself to you. I had no clue who he was, and he didn’t know there was any connection. He was just a cute guy I met at the bar. Then he walked in here and I saw you two standing next to each other and I fuckingknew.” I huff a laugh, remembering the way my stomach dropped when the pieces fell into place. “I tried to let it go. I swear I fucking tried.”

Hero stares at me silently again. His expression is unreadable, and it makes me itchy, but I let him process. Or maybe he’s thinking about the quickest way to kill me. It’s hard to tell.

“Fuck.” He sighs after an eternity. “You’re both adults, so I can’t really say shit. And I’m trying to work out in my head what I would have done differently if the tables were turned, and I honestly don’t have a fucking clue. What the fuck is this though? Are you just messing around?”

His expression turns stern, but instead of tightening the knots in my stomach, it loosens them. I let out another laughthat eases the tension in my chest. If he’s pivoting to the ‘what are your intentions’ talk, that means he’s accepting us, right?

“It’s serious,” I say without hesitation. What I almost said to Milo before Hero interrupted us last night rings loud and clear in my mind but I’m not about to admit it to Hero before I say it to Milo.

His eyes bore into me for a solid minute and then he nods.

“Break his heart and I’ll have Jag hold you down while I cut your balls off.”

I wince, then chuckle. “Deal.”

His scowl twitches into a smile and he crosses the few steps between us to pull me into a brief hug, slapping my back for good measure before he lets me go.

Whatever he was looking for back here must not have been important. Either that or he was using it as an excuse to wait for me so we could have a private conversation. Regardless, he strides out of the storage room empty-handed and I follow a few steps behind him.

I pause just inside the main part of the shop and Milo looks up, his eyes finding mine instantly. I smile and give a single nod to let him know we sorted our shit out. His grin widens, the dimple on his cheek making a full appearance. And then the door swings open and the first customer for the day comes in. My earlier exhaustion is gone now, replaced with a weightless feeling. It’s a new day, there aren’t any more secrets hanging over my head, and I’m ready for whatever happens next.

MILO

The puppy tattoo won the customer vote by a mile. I have to admit, it’s kind of grown on me over the last week. I untape all of the printed images from the counter and toss them in the trash. I still have them saved in the folder on the computer for when I’m ready to get them tattooed, so they’re not really gone.

“That the one you’re going with?”

I look up and grin at my dad standing in front of the counter.

“It won the vote, and I will honor the will of the people,” I say. “Now we’ll see what they come up with for kitten names.” I pull out the new paper I’m planning to tape to the counter. It has pictures of the kittens and Cy on it and spaces for people to write down suggestions that I’ll turn into a poll for voting later.

“Someone jot down ‘Pussy Galore’ for me,” Jag calls.

“Absolutely not.” I scoff. “They’re cats, not drag queens.”

“She’s a Bond girl,” Jag says. “Although, now that you mention it, that’s a fucking incredible drag name.”

I grab a marker and add to the paper “Nothing vulgar, they’re only babies, for fuck’s sake,” then tape it to the counter.

“So.” Hero clears his throat. “Who’s doing your first tattoo?”

“Oh…” I glance awkwardly over at Piston, then back at him. My face heats. I never thought about how seriously tattoo artists take this shit before, but working here over the past month I havelearned.

Luckily, Hero just gives me a reassuring smile.

“It’s cool, I get it. I hope you’ll let me get some ink on you at some point though.”

“Of course.” I breathe a sigh of relief that he doesn’t seem to be offended. “I just figured that Piston should be my… first.”

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