Page 80 of Word to the Wise

I glance through the windows into the house. To the giant painting hanging in the living room. It’s the brightest, most colorful decoration on the white walls, so it’s hard to miss. Bold swirls of teal and raspberry bleeding together.

“She painted that?”

Mason nods. “She planned on selling her art someday. At least, before it all went to shit.”

He rakes his hair back, and I squeeze his hand, even if I know I can only offer so much comfort. There’s no bringing his sister back or absolving his guilt, even if it wasn’t his fault.

“She was really talented.” I smile.

“She was. I think that’s the only reason I got as good as I did. Trying to compete with her.”

“It worked.”

“Guess so.”

I glance down at my bare arms and legs. My brother has worked at Twisted Roses since he was fourteen, but I’ve still yet to get inked.

“Do you think it’s odd that I don’t have any tattoos?”

“No.” Mason scans my body. “I think when you get a tat, it should be something that matters. So many people just throw random shit on their body and regret it later. Probably why I don’t have that many. At least, not that many compared to other tattoo artists.”

It’s true, of all the guys at the shop, Mason has the fewest tattoos. I never really thought about it, but now that he’s explaining his reason, I skim his arms again, wondering what each piece means to him.

“I think that’s smart.”

“You would.” He grins. “You’re rational.”

“Is that a slight or a compliment?”

“Definitely a compliment.” He bends down and kisses the back of my hand.

It’s a good thing it’s getting dark out, or he’d no doubt catch the blush warming my cheeks the moment his lips graze my skin.

“So…” I clear my throat, trying not to imagine his mouth between my legs with how his gaze shoots a path of fire straight to my core. “If you designed a tattoo for me, what would it be?”

“A bite-sized candy bar. Because you’re so tiny and sweet.”

He sinks his teeth into the side of my neck until I moan.

“I’m being serious.”

Mason pulls back, winking at me. “I am too. Mostly. Hold on a sec.”

He disappears back into the house, and I watch him through the windows, circling through the kitchen until he stops at a desk tucked between the living room and the staircase. Grabbing something from one of the drawers, he makes his way back to the courtyard, dropping into the lounger beside me.

“Leg.” He pats his thigh.

Narrowing my gaze, I kick my leg up and drape it over him. My bare skin tingles as he brushes up the full length, teasing the line of my pajama shorts before moving to my shin.

“You live up to your nickname, Sticks.” He smiles, grazing his fingers on my calf and rubbing it. “Nice pair you’ve got here.”

“You’re such a flirt.” I roll my eyes.

“Just pointing out the obvious.” He sets my leg on his thigh and reaches for the pack of markers he carried outside. “You’re wearing those leather pants tomorrow, right?”

“Yes…” My eyebrows pinch. “Why? Already imagining my ass in them?”

“Oh, I did that the second you told me about them.” He grins, holding up a marker. “But I’m asking because these are permanent, so they won’t come off overnight.”

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