Page 27 of Hidden Memories

Finally, Kat inhales and exhales as if letting that moment pass and reaches over to take the photo from my hand.

If anybody else had done that I would have snatched it back before they could get their greasy mitts on it. But not only do I let Kat hold one of the few photos of my mom from when she was younger in Mexico, I somehow like the sight of it. Of sharing. With her.

“She’s beautiful…” Kat smiles. “You have her eyes… and nose.” She flicks her gaze upward. “You could take the photo in, though. Probably a tattoo artist would be better…”

“I want a crown of flowers in her hair,” I say, interrupting her humility. As if any tattoo artist around here can draw like she can. “Nobody does flowers like you.”

I offer a crooked smile.

She scrunches her nose. “You’re sure? I’ll need time…”

I can hardly keep my eyes on her with her all bashful and cute like this, with my mom’s photo in her hand. It all feels too… right.

“Just do it here. Now. In this spot. You draw fast, and Ithink the way you naturally draw is perfect. I just want to somehow think of her here… it’s hard to explain.”

Kat nods as if she understands. As if she knows exactly what I mean without me having to say it.

She turns to a new page and rustles around in her backpack, taking out some graphite pencils. “What kind of flowers do you want for the crown?”

“What you’ve been seeing around here.”

She nods and offers a caring smile then stares at the photograph, serious now, as she always is when working on her art. I admire her talent. Her dedication to becoming better at something.

She hasn’t moved her pencil yet. She’s staring blankly in the direction of my mother’s photo. I can tell she’s not looking at it.

“You’re making me nervous, cowboy. This is a pretty big deal.” Her gaze flickers up. “You want me to draw the most important woman in your lifeandyou’re going to put my drawing on your body forever? It’s a lot of pressure.”

“You seem like you’re good under pressure.”

“I am when I have no choice but to be.”

It’s one of those small comments Kat makes that she will not elaborate on but tells me Kat’s life might not be what it appears. And also as usual, she makes a joke so I don’t think too deeply about what her quip means.

This woman changes the subject as expertly as I do.

“You said it’s a commission, so that means you’re going to pay me?”

“What’s your price?”

She traces the ink on my forearm with a slow, deliberate touch, her fingertip skimming the patterns etched into my skin like she’s memorizing them. The warmth of her touchburns through me, setting fire to nerves I thought had long since gone numb.

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay still, but every stroke of her finger unravels another thread of control. She lingers on the edge of one design, her touch featherlight, sending a pulse of heat straight through me. My cock strains against my zipper, aching for more than just her fingertips. And from the knowing look in her eyes, she damn well knows it, too.

“How about you pay formeto get a tattoo?” There’s a glint in her eyes.

“Do you have any already?”

My mind wanders up and down her womanly thighs, to the small of her back, and her smooth shoulders, as if searching for art on her hidden curves.

“No.” She smirks. “You can help pop my cherry.”

Fucking hell.

She would not have to ask me twice if that meant what I wish it did.

“When do you want to do it?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend.

She leans in, brushing her fingers along my forearm like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. “I’ll go with you. Book me a slot at the same time.”

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