—
It’s completely dark outside except for the light of the moon and a few (but not enough) streetlamps. I mention it because it’s a big thing. At the last town meeting, it was put to a vote to install more streetlights or add a speed bump on either side of the town square and, of course, a speed bump won even though no one in the town wanted it. It’s no surprise that Harriet was in charge of counting the votes, and the implication of her tampering is heavy.
I’ve never contributed to the rumors that circled around Harriet’s manipulation because I don’t like to see anyone slandered behind their backs. But now, as I’m searching for Will in the dark and can’t see him without the help of an extra streetlamp, I’m ready to spray-paint It Was Harriet! in bold red letters across the windows of the market.
“Will?” I whisper into the stale night air while looking all around. “Williamson!” I don’t see him anywhere. Surely I didn’t just imagine him. Oh gosh, if I only imagined him out of my desperation to see him, I will have reached a whole other level of infatuation. Because yeah, I can at least now admit that it’s more than a crush on Will.
I like him.
A lot.
I keep trying to tell myself that I don’t, but the more times I say I don’t, the brighter his eyes look in my memory. The more I picture his face while reading my steamy books, the more I dream of him holding me at night. Actually, after our kiss the other night, I dream of a lot more than him simply holding me.
“Will! Where are—”
A hand shoots out from a narrow alley and tugs me in. I know it’s Will before I even see him because my skin has memorized the feel of his. The subtle calluses at the top of his palms and the way his hand swallows mine. And then there’s his smell. It’s so distinctly him, like he did his laundry in the ocean. Someone could blindfold me and spin me around and set me loose in a room full of people, and I’d still be able to find him.
I land in the alley, chest to chest with him. I can see his smile even in the dark.
“Hello, Annie Walker,” he says and uses his hand to brush my hair back from my face. A hot thrill spins like a tornado in my stomach. It’s so good to be near him again. I want to wrap my arms around his middle. I want to press my face into his neck. I want to clamp my legs around him and not let go.
Instead, I stand here and look up at him. “Hello, Will Griffin.”
“Have you had a good day?” he asks, and the attentive question shocks me.
“I have. I think I finally figured out what was missing with Amelia’s bridal bouquets.”
He lifts a brow as his fingers brush along my jaw. “And?”
“It needed a pop of pink.”
“Pink is always the answer,” he says with a grittiness to his voice that makes me want to lick it from his lips. What in the world is happening to me? Who is this woman who’s so full of desire and excitement? The astounding thing is, I think Will would let me if I asked him. He’d lower his mouth for me to get a better angle because it wouldn’t mean anything to him. This may all be new and exciting for me, but for him, kissing a woman in an alley would probably be normal for a Saturday night. And I’d do well to remember that.
“What are we doing tonight?”
He grins mischievously and his blue-gray eyes shine. “Something you’ve always wanted to do but have been too scared to.”
My stomach tenses. “You don’t mean…”
“You’re finally getting your tattoo tonight.”
“What?!” I say, instinctively taking a step away from him. “No. I can’t do that.”
“You can.” He reaches out and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and my body immediately softens. “I already made you an appointment with an artist right outside of town who seemed really good. And I’ll be with you the whole time. Trust yourself. You said you wanted flowers—let’s get your damn flowers, Annie.” He lifts my hand in his and pulls my wrist to his mouth, where he leaves a tender kiss on the vulnerable skin below my palm. His easy affection stuns me as much as it delights me. “You can do this. If you want to…”
I do want to. I really do.
Normally, I would need time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons and get my siblings’ input first and then eventually get talked out of it, completely. But I’m now committed to this experiment of trying to find myself by following my impulses. Plus I’m still actively looking for a husband and practicing my dating skills just in case that’s the thing I really need too. The answer has to live down one of those paths, so why not try them both, right?
I breathe in and smile. “Let’s go.”
I try to walk away, but he tugs me back with a chuckle. “We don’t have to go now. I didn’t mean to take you from your time with your siblings. Go finish what you were doing and we can go after.”
“They’ll be okay without me for one hearts tournament. I want to be spontaneous with you tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Will
I expect Annie to hesitate outside the tattoo parlor. It doesn’t look like the friendliest place, but the options were slim within a fifty-mile radius of Rome. Luckily, the highest rated parlor according to Google was this one, only twenty minutes away.
Annie let me drive her truck—and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I get now why people are addicted to these gas guzzlers. There’s something about the feel of an old leather Ford steering wheel with ridges all around that’s way more satisfying than a new smooth one. Even better if it comes with a beautiful blonde woman hanging her arm out the window and letting her hair fly all around her face as you drive.
It’s not safe, and I don’t condone it, but I took a picture when she wasn’t looking.
When we pulled up to the parlor, I put the truck in park and looked over at Annie, expecting to see some trepidation in her expression. I couldn’t have been more wrong. She jumped out before my eyes even had time to land on her.
“Come on,” she says, excitedly waving me forward. “Why are you moving so slow?”
I close the truck door and meet her on the sidewalk. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, looking in the lit-up parlor and feeling a pang of remorse for instigating this. Not even sure why. It’s just that the thought of Annie in all her softness going into that place and being inked forever has me suddenly feeling like an overprotective mother. What the hell? I’ve never been one to overthink any choices in my life. I joined the military when I went to the grocery store for milk and the recruiting tent was parked out front, for God’s sake.
And yet…something about being with Annie makes me want to be cautious for once. I have the distinct feeling of holding something precious and not wanting to let it drop. I feel protective. Possessive even.
Annie laughs and eyes me speculatively. “Yes! I’m so sure. Let’s go.”
In an ironic turn of events, Annie grabs my hand and tugs me along behind her. We go into the parlor, and it smells old. Nothing like the updated, trendy, and clean places where I’ve gotten my tattoos. This is a backwoods country parlor through and through, and who knows what sort of disease she could get from just sitting in one of their chairs? Are their needles sterilized? How long has this artist been in business?
I can’t let Annie do this.
“Hey—on second thought, why don’t we wait and go somewhere in the city?”
She only has a second to frown at me before a burly man with a biker beard comes around the corner. “You a walk-in?”
“Yes, sir!” She chirps happily, and I instantly clench my hand tighter around hers. She’s about to mark her body forever. Because of me. By a man I absolutely don’t want anywhere near said body. Look at the size of the paws on him.