“Not me.” I feel so content at this moment—so absolutely strong and sexy and empowered.
Jim often hit me when he got it in his head that I could’ve been looking at another guy. He hated when I wore anything provocative or sexy or showed any skin, with or without him. I shudder when I recall him forcing me to breastfeed Charlie as a newborn under a thick blanket, in case someone could see through the windows.
“When I was married to Jim and I was at work,”—I swallow hard at the memory—“he’d call me all day long to check up on me and make sure I was really there. When I couldn’t answer because I was with a customer, he’d accuse me of flirting and cheating on him, and the death threats would start. He wouldn’t let me wear shorts in the summer. And cute dresses? Forget it.”
Neither of them speaks. They’re good listeners and great friends.
“And here’s Josh, bending over backwards to prove he’s a good man.” I feel tears well up and spill over for the umpteenth time today. “Do you know this afternoon we almost made love and he stopped it?!”
Both Quinn and Britt laugh. “WHAT?! No way—why?”
“Old fashioned gentleman-ness,” I muse, thinking about how he’s now saving us for the wedding night.
Quinn goes quiet then asks, concerned, “Were you really considering leaving him?”
“No, but I have considered not going all the way through with marrying him. Still being ‘unmarried,’ I know I can still play by my own rules. There’s safety in that.”
“Maybe the two of you could make up your own rules … together?” Quinn suggests then says softly, “He’ll never hurt you.”
I tuck that away in my heart as I fall asleep.
***
For the first time in weeks I wake up refreshed and in an undeniably good mood. Quinn and Britt are still sleeping when I go downstairs to hunt for a newspaper and a cup of fresh coffee.
What I find instead is Liam Knight, sitting at a table with two coffees, and he’s smiling at me like the Cheshire Cat.
He stands. “Josh said you woke up at this time like clockwork.”
“Guess he knows me pretty well.”
He looks impressed. “Guess he does.”
“So what are you doing here?” I sit across from him and take up one of the coffees.
“You’re my next appointment,” he tells me.
Surprised, I ask, “How so?”
Liam shrugs. “The man said he needed me to give you this.” He hands me a golden envelope.
I can’t help but smile as I take it from him. “I thought yesterday was it.”
“Looks like Josh has other plans. Open it up,” he encourages.
I do.
I read it.
“No. No way, not a chance.” This is definitely where the game ends!
He immediately begins to laugh. “What does it say?”
“It says he wants me to go with you to the House of Ink and Steel so you can tattoo me! ME!”
“Scared of needles?” he eggs me on.
“Yes!”
“Do you mind?” Liam holds his hand out for the letter.
“Not at all. ’Cause I’m not going.” I pass it to him.
Liam reads Josh’s words out loud.
This is a tough one, but being the scrapper you are, you’ll come through just fine.
Do you trust me? Go with Liam to the tattoo shop. I left the design I think you’ll like best at his station with another envelope. Now, before you go and freak out, know I love you and give it a chance.
“No. Me … a tattoo? I don’t think so.” I sip at my coffee. Is Josh serious??
He asks brightly, “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
I scowl and think. “Maybe …” I say without looking at him.
“So bring your coffee and we’ll open the other letter.” He’s freaking smiling like this is fun.
I’m so nervous I could puke!
Liam’s hand swoops in and snags my coffee.
“Hey!” I protest.
“Come on …” He dangles it away from me like a carrot to a bunny.
Or a jackass.
Does he really expect me to get a tattoo?
***
Liam unlocks the door to the shop. “I don’t even open for another two hours.”
“Thanks for making me a preferred client … I think?”
“Ha. Ha.”
We make a beeline to his workstation, and sure enough, on the chair is a gold envelope, but I feel a twinge of jealousy and disappointment when the name on the front is Liam’s.
He appears puzzled as he opens it, then a knowing look dawns on his face and he laughs.
“Oh God,” I whine. “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”
“Okay. There is another letter in the envelope for you, but I can only give it to you if you go through with the dare.”
“It’s a dare, is it?” I wage back and remember the first note that read, Dare you … forever.
“What do I have to do?” I ask determinedly. I want that letter.
“You really are a scrapper.”
“Liam, just tell me before I lose my nerve!”
“All you have to do is sit in the chair,” he says with a slight tilt of his head.
I narrow my eyes suspiciously and sit in his artist’s chair.
“Not that one … that one.” Liam’s eyes go to the client’s chair.