Page 136 of Beautifully Reckless

I gasp, slapping a hand to my chest as one of the bikes loses control, skidding across the gravel before tipping onto the grass with a thud.

The yard erupts in cheers and hoots, while I’m nothing but shocked, and at best a little amused at their craziness.

When I glance at Ringo, he’s not watching the chaos. He’s watching me, one side of his mouth kicking up as he shrugs.

“Alcohol makes them dumb.”

I burst out laughing, doubling over at the unfiltered madness of it all, yet knowing I love every second.

Well, except maybe the vomiting part. I didn’t like that.

Ringo’s deep laugh joins mine, and we fall into each other, breathless and leaning on one another as we both try to compose ourselves, and I realise, we’ve never had such a shared lighthearted moment.

“Ringo, man. I’m all set up,” a tall lanky looking biker calls from behind us, and Ringo nods over his shoulder.

“Thanks Vender. We’ll be in in a sec.”

Nothing about this day so far has been predictable, so curiosity instantly sparks me, and I open my mouth to ask, but Ringo beats me to it.

“It’s time to get our ink.”

“Our ink?” I blink, turning my gaze to the tall man walking away.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Taking my hand, Ringo weaves us through the crowd, heading back into the barn, but this time, Ringo gives the chaos across the far side of the room a wide berth.

Heading down a passage and into a brightly lit room, I see some sort of instrument I’m not familiar with.

“I’ll go first,” Ringo states, guiding me gently to a nearby chair before taking the one next to it.

He slides off his wedding band, shooting me a wicked wink, and places his hand flat on the table. The other guy, Vender, sitsacross from him and picks up the instrument before a buzzing hum fills the air, making me flinch.

Ringo squeezes my hand with his free one, steady, solid and reassuring, and I watch as he gets my name tattooed around his finger, where the ring would normally sit.

Oh.

“So you’ll always be there, even if the ring isn’t,” Ringo rasps softly, our eyes meeting for a flicker of a moment, and I swear, I can feel my heart swelling in my chest.

It takes no time at all, and once it’s done, Ringo shows me my name etched permanently into his skin, and my heart races with something unfamiliar.

Mine.

That’s what my brain is saying.

He’s mine.

“I have hypoallergenic ink for you, Abbey,” Vender states, snapping me out of my Ringo daze as he adjusts something on the table while Ringo leans back in his seat. “It’s safer while you’re pregnant. I’ll just do it light, and once you’ve had your baby and finish breastfeeding, we can touch it up properly so it doesn’t fade too fast.”

I nod, blinking in surprise. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

I’m nervous as hell. I’ve never thought about getting a tattoo before, and no one asked me if I wanted this. But there’s something about having Ringo’s name on me permanently that has me tugging the wedding band off and shifting forward to give Vendor my hand.

It’s over quickly. It stung a little, and I have to wear my ring on my other hand while it heals, but the whole experience iscathartic, and I find myself smirking as Ringo leads me back out to the party.

My mum would hate everything about today.

Maybe that’s why I’ve secretly loved every minute of it.

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