“Yeah. No, it’s not that. I’m just not interested.”
For an instant, he looked like she’d just kicked his puppy, but he recovered quickly. The smile dimmed, but didn’t turn unkind. She liked that about him. He seemed about to say something else, then thought better of it. “I understand.” He didn’t push, and she liked that, too. “Thank you for the tattoo.”
“You’re welcome.” It should have been a relief to close the door behind him, but instead she was left with a sense of loss bordering on loneliness, something she hadn’t felt in the longest time.
5
Ry
“Anybody want to spar for a bit?” Hugo asked, wiping sweat off his brow as he stepped off the treadmill.
“Not a chance,” Alex said, laughing. “Yvette and I are going to the cinema.”
“What are you watching? I didn’t know there were any new action movies out this week,” Ry said, slowing his own treadmill down to a walk. He, Tristan, Hugo and Alex often went out to watch the latest action blockbuster together, as they all enjoyed the same kinds of films.Ones where things exploded and people chased each other between one explosion and the next.
“It’s a movie by Agnès Varda,” Alex muttered between his teeth.
Ry stared blankly at his friend. “No idea who that is.”
“Careful, or you’ll find your French residence card revoked,” Tristan said. “You’re talking about one of France’s most influential film directors.”
“Okay … What’s it about?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a classic film, from 1985.”
Ry barked out a laugh. “1985? How the mighty have fallen!”
Alex punched him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Hey, it’s not like I’m inviting you to come along. This is something Yvette and I are doing, and whatever film she wants to watch is fine by me, since I get to take her home afterwards.”
Ry quietened down, not wanting to take the joke too far. Itwasgood to see Alex this happy.
“How about you, Tristan?” Hugo asked, stretching his legs.
“Can’t,” Tristan said. “I’m testing a new helicopter for the colonel. I have just enough time to get to the airport or I’ll miss the flight.”
“Lorenz?”
“I’m off duty this weekend, so I’m heading up to Mer de Glace.”
“Jesus, Lorenz, you know it’s February, right? It’s fucking cold out there.”
“You guys are wimps,” Lorenz said, pulling on his sweatshirt and grabbing his bag off the floor. “I’ll see you Monday!”
“Make sure your nuts don’t freeze off,” Ry quipped, laughing. “I guess that leaves us, Hugo. Unless you’re afraid?”
Hugo’s head went back, his dark eyes opening in mock surprise. “What? Is the sky falling on us this weekend or something? Ryland Harrison is free on a Friday evening? What’s going on? Are you ill?”
“Ha. Ha. Hilarious. Come on, are we sparring, or what?” The jab hit closer than Hugo realized, because Ryalwayshad a date on Friday evenings. It was his favorite night to go out. And he’d had several calls today from interested women. But he’d said no to each of them, because he couldn’t stop thinking of the striking tattoo artist, with her soft caramel-colored eyes and blue-streaked hair. She’d tattooed his chest and messed with hismind at the same time. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. And it didn’t help that he kept feeling the fresh tattoo, and thinking about what she’d looked like as she worked on him, those soft lips opening slightly in concentration. Pain didn’t turn Ry on, but he’d had a hard-on the whole time he was in there.
Hell, he’d even wondered if, once the tattoo healed, he could go back and add some more to it. Just so he could see her again.
“Earth to Ry,” Hugo said, fitting his mouth guard in place.
“Ready. Show me what you’ve got.”
Hugo launched himself forward with a mean uppercut punch followed by an overhand, landing the second punch so quickly, it seemed like they landed at the same time. Ry jumped back, narrowly avoiding the looping hook. He smiled behind his mouth guard. Hugo was a beast in the ring—sharp, fast and creative—which made him the perfect sparring partner.
Ry feinted left, then followed with a hard jab to the right, gratified when Hugo’s head turned sideways. Ry wasn’t half as creative a fighter as Hugo, but he could be fast when he set his mind to it, and he was getting better at not telegraphing his punches.