Tall, Tatted and Tempting (The Reed Brothers 1)

“What did you put on her?” I ask.

He scowls at me and says, “Shut up.” He points to a sign on the wall that says, “Tattoos are as individual as the people who get them” Then he points to another that says, “One man’s ink is another man’s purpose in life.” Then he points to a third. “We do not tattoo drunk clients.” Then he points to a roll of duct tape below a sign that says, “Keep whining and I’ll use it.”

“You are not amusing,” I say.

Kit falls into my side and wraps her arms around me.

“What did you get?” I ask.

She looks into my eyes. “Something that will keep me from ever forgetting you and what you mean to me.”

“It’s about me?” My heart lurches and my breath catches and I suddenly can’t think.

She smiles and she nods. “It’s about you.”

“Can I see it?” I’m dying here.

She shakes her head. “Not today.”

“When?” Still f**king dying here.

She shrugs and she suddenly looks sad.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tipping her face up to mine.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She hands it to me. Her face flushes with heat.

“Is this the tattoo?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No.”

I open it slowly.

MY NAME IS EMILY.

Emily

My heart is pounding so loudly that I can hear it. Logan opens the piece of paper and he freezes. He looks down at it for a long time, longer than I expected. I try to take it back from him. He jerks it away. Then he takes my hand and pulls me from the shop. I don’t get a chance to say goodbye to Paul or Friday. I don’t even get my feet under me before he’s tugging me down the street.

“Wait,” I call. But he can’t hear me. His gaze is fixed on his route to wherever he’s taking me. I tap his shoulder. He doesn’t stop. He just pulls me through the crowd. I dig my heels in and stop. He turns to me and reaches for my hand again. I’m afraid he’s going to toss me over his shoulder one last time. But I want this to be my choice. I want this to be our choice, together. “Wait,” I say, framing his face with my hands. He looks down at me. “Why the rush?”

“Because I want you so f**king bad that I hurt, you silly woman.” He makes me smile. He’ll probably never call me a dummy again, but I do realize that it’s a term of endearment with him, and not a set-down.

“I want you too,” I admit.

He looks down at the piece of paper that’s in his hand. “You trust me,” he says.

I nod.

“Can we go to the apartment and talk?” he asks. “I promise not to molest you the minute we walk in the door. We have some things that need to be said.”

Yes, we do. I nod.

He takes my hand in his and raises it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. He walks a little slower this time. He points to my arm. “What did you get?”

I smile. I’m not telling him. It’s for me. It’s for me to take with me when I go. It’s a piece of him. Of all of them really. It’s mine. And I’m not sharing it. Not right now.

“Come on,” he cajoles.

I shake my head. “Not happening.”

He looks crestfallen for a moment. But then we reach his apartment complex and we run up the stairs side by side. He’s barely winded.

We step into the empty apartment. No one is there.

“Can you believe that they admitted Matt into the trial program?” he asks as he walks toward the bedroom.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“So f**king amazing,” he says. He’s giddy about it and I love the way he wears his heart on his sleeve.

I don’t want to talk about Matt because I’m afraid I’ll break down crying and tell him what I did. Tell him what I committed to in order to give Matt a chance, in order to be sure Logan’s world stays complete and full with all his brothers. “I’m so glad he’s going to get a chance,” I say. My voice clogs in my throat and I’m glad Logan can’t hear it.

He picks up on my feelings, though, because he walks across the room and brackets my face with his fingers. “I’m sorry you were the one here when he got sick.”

I’m not. Not at all. I’m so glad I was here. I’m glad I could help. In more ways than one. “I am glad I was here. Wouldn’t trade the time I spent with his head on my lap for anything.” I can’t bite back my grin.

“I love you so f**king much,” he says. Then he bends his head and kisses me. His lips are soft, but urgent.

Tears well in my eyes, because I know this is our last day together. “I need to take a shower,” I say, stalling. I need a moment to compose myself. Not to mention that we spent the night at the hospital. I need to get cleaned up.

He nods and points at my arm. Shoot. I have a new tattoo and a bandage. “You can get it wet if you take the bandage off,” he says.

I don’t want to take the bandage off. “Can we just wrap it up?”

“Why don’t you want me to see it?” He’s looking deep into my eyes. I can’t explain it to him.

He heaves a sigh and comes back with some plastic wrap and some waterproof tape. He wraps my arm and says, “There. That’ll keep it completely dry.”

I’m not worried about getting it wet. I’m worried about the bandage falling off. “Thank you,” I say. I kiss him quickly. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”