Page 73 of Brand
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cami
“I think you’re getting it. Another handful of ruined grapefruits and you should be good to go,” Sketch said as he peeked over my shoulder to see my newest tattooed fruit masterpiece.
“Yeah?” I asked and because I was a little nervous and insecure my voice sounded a bit higher than normal.
The thought of actually moving on to human skin had my head freaking out. I mean, if I screwed it up, it wasn’t like I could just throw it out, grab another, and start over, you know? It was there, permanent and all. One slip of a line and the whole thing could be ruined. I’d spent hours looking over pictures of bad tattoos with the guys, each of them pointing out where things had gone wrong. And some of them were just wrong from the get-go.
“Don’t worry, C-money. We don’t expect your first one to be any good. Or even your twentieth. And I promise not to laugh at you too much.”
He snatched up one of the cookies from the box sitting on the counter and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. I had learned that these were Ethel’s “special goods” and I had been in love with every one that had come so far. I didn’t know this woman personally, but I wanted to. Those sugary treats were addicting. It wasn’t a good idea to have them sitting so close to me. I was working on my will power, that was for sure.
“Thanks so much, Sketch. You are such a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes at him but in truth, expected nothing less from the guy.
Blade came strolling in, something small and furry in the crook of his arm.
“Is that…a dog?” I asked trying to figure it out.
The thing let out a little growl then a yelp and I had my answer.
“Why do you have a dog?” Sketch asked before I had the chance to.
“Went to bed last night with a bitc…beautiful lady…then woke up with this thing licking my face. No woman in sight. When I picked her up she was carrying this big thing I thought was a purse, but as it turns out, it was one of those rich bitch—sorry, Cami—carrying things.”
“Yeah, we all have one of those for our toy dogs that we treat like accessories,” I said sarcastically, not hurt even a little by his comment.
I wasn’t that girl anymore. And maybe I had never really been her, something I was thankful for.
“So…you have a dog now?” Sketch asked, eyeing the thing.
“Seems that way. Didn’t know her name, let alone get her number, and since the bag was unzipped, one could only assume she didn’t want to take it with her when she left. Either way, this thing is cute as fuck, so I’m gonna keep it.”
That was almost adorable.
“What’s its name?” I asked as I made my way to give the shaking bundle of fur some love. Lucky for me, it didn’t try to bite me. “Come here cutie. Oh yes. You are so ugly you’re cute.”
Because really, I wasn’t sure what kind of mix it was, but it looked like it came from the reject farm.
“Fuck off. She’s cute as hell. And her tag said Skippy, like the fucking peanut butter. I hate peanut butter, so I’m changing it to Bitch.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised, and I swore I saw his lips twitch a bit like he was trying to play off a joke. Blade making jokes? Yes, that was very weird.
“No, try again,” I said raising a brow at him as I continued to pet the dog.
Her fur was surprisingly soft and it was obvious that she had been cared for. Her nails were cut and her breath didn’t stink. I made such comments to Blade as a hint to let him know that dogs took a lot of work. They weren’t something you could just have to carry around.
“Yeah, I know. I did all that. Gave her a bath, went to the pet store and asked how to trim her nails, and got her some of those green chew things that help with her teeth. Also, brushed the damn things. Didn’t know you could brush a dog’s teeth. That was a lot of fucking fun.”
I was floored. And by the way my jaw was on the floor, he knew it too.
“What? I may be a gruff asshole, but I’m not a monster. I know this baby needs to be taken care of and it’s not like she can’t do it herself. And I might not know exactly what to do, but I know how to ask the right people,” Blade said and his tone held an ‘I don’t give a crap what anyone thinks’ ring to it.
“So this name…” I said bringing it back around.
“Harley.”
“No,” I said shaking my head.
