Page 4 of Rex

“Can I have this one, please?”

Rex looks down at the book, and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“That’s my brand.”

Huh. I didn’t know tattoo artists have logos but I guess it makes sense.

It doesn’t change my mind, though.

“I’d really like it.”

He cocks his head. “The brand belongs to me. As does anything I put it on. Permanently.”

Does he think I want him to tweak it? Maybe he’s worried I might want to change it one day. I know I’ve had the idea to have a tattoo for all of ninety minutes and this particular tattoo for ninety seconds, but I know who I am.

When I decide I want something, I don’t change my mind. That doesn’t mean I get what I want, unfortunately.

“That is completely understandable. I really want your brand, Rex. I feel an affinity with it.”

He looks at me intently for a moment, before a slow grin spreads across his face. It’s like all the air is sucked from the room as I stare at him.

Rex looking grumpy is sexy as sin.

Rex smiling is like the first sunny day after a long winter.

Beautiful.

“Okay, then.”

“Oh, can I pick the color?” He nods, so I continue. “I’d like green please. A mossy green if you have it.”

The exact color of his eyes. In for a penny and all that, I guess. I might as well commemorate the moment I had my firsttattoo to the fullest. And hopefully the moment I made some friends. Booker seems nice and Rex is obviously perfect.

He nods again and we sort the paperwork and all the stuff I assume is boring to him, but is kind of fascinating to me. Getting a tattoo is a lot more involved than I thought it would be.

“Where do you want it?” It takes a second for me to realize he’s talking about the tattoo and not where do I want him to make me his. My mind really needs to stop sliding into the gutter.

“My wrist. I want everyone to see it,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Fuck.” It comes out so quietly, on a breath, I’m almost unsure if Rex actually swore.

“Roll your sleeve up.” He commands.

I go to but then I realize if I get hot halfway through I will be stuck. I start taking my sweater off and it isn’t until it’s around my head that I feel a breeze on my stomach.

Damnit.

My shirt lifted with my stupid sweater.

“Um, I’m really sorry. Could you maybe-”

I feel his fingers ghost along my side, making my breath hitch.

Rex is touching me.

I want to lean into it, but as quickly as it started, he stops and pulls my shirt down. I quickly whip my sweater off and Rex is still standing there in my space.

He smells like a mixture of motor oil, leather, and apples.

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