Page 158 of Full Mountie

“I have an idea…”

58

Beth

Istareat the black ink sketch on the translucent paper in front of me.

“It’s perfect,” I breathe.

The North Star rising over the curve of the Earth.

The tattoo artist holds it up to my hip. “It’ll sit right there, with the lines ending here and here.” He points to my hip bone and lower down on my pelvis “Should take me a bit more than an hour. We can do it now, or you can book an appointment for next week.”

I glance at Hugh, then Lachlan. We stopped in here on a whim, but we have the afternoon free. They’re both grinning.

“I’ll do it now,” I say, my pulse fluttering.

“Sounds good. Have you eaten in the last few hours?”

I nod. “Just had lunch.”

“Perfect. Fill out these forms while I get the sketch onto transfer paper, and then we’ll get going.”

That doesn’t take long, and the next thing I know, he’s prepping my skin. Then he presses on the transfer to outline the tattoo he’ll copy in permanent ink. Oh wow, this is really happening.

He hands me a mirror. “Check that positioning for me.”

I love it, and Lachlan and Hugh nod along.

The artist grins. “Okay. Time to take a deep breath and let’s do this. Why don’t you tell me about the sketch idea. Does this have a special meaning?”

Before I can answer, Lachlan takes my hand. “It sure does.”

Hugh grabs a wheeled stool and takes up a position on the other side of me. “She’s our North Star.”

Okay, then. We’re telling this stranger the whole story. I blush. “What they said.”

The artist bobs his head. “Cool.”

I blink. It is, but…no reaction? And then the tattoo machine touch my skin, dragging a dull, unforgiving slice of pain across my nerves, and I forget everything else. “Ahhhh…”

“You okay?”

“Uh..huh.” I exhale roughly. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

“I’m working on the star first. It’ll hurt more when I get to your hip bone.”

Oh, goodie. But the next press isn’t as bad, or it’s exactly the same, and I know what to expect now. I breathe through it, and we fall into a pattern. Every few minutes, he wipes my skin before proceeding again. It doesn’t that long at all for him to declare the star completed, and he shifts lower, right above my yoga pants now for the curve of the Earth’s shell.

“My sister’s in a polyamorous relationship,” he says casually as he makes short, painful strokes for the islands that dot Northern Canada. I regret not going with the ocean there.

“Yeah? Cool,” I grind out. It is, but my brain is pretty fuzzy right now.

He laughs. “Endorphins kicking in?”

“Uh huh.”

Lachlan’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it and keeps rubbing circles on my arm. It stops, then starts again.

---