Good Girl Gone (The Reed Brothers 7)

I stiffen. I don’t want her to go back home.

“Oh, it’s like that,” she says, and then she whistles. “I always wondered what kind of man would be good enough for her. I didn’t think one existed. But then you came along and you took care of her when you didn’t have to.”

“I like her.”

She snorts. “You like her?”

“Yes.” I grind my teeth together. She wants a definition and I can’t give her one. “I like her.”

“You fucked her brains out and you just like her? Seriously?” She’s suddenly angry.

“What the fuck is it with you people? Is there no privacy?”

She shakes her head. “Not within a family. Not much, anyway.” She grins. “Don’t be surprised if Emilio comes to see you. He’s curious about your intentions.”

“Yeah, so am I,” I admit.

She smiles at me. “Good.”

“So, did you really want a tattoo?”

She nods. “Our mom had a ring with our names engraved inside it. Tag, Jenny, and Jessica. I want a ring with all the names on it, on my inner wrist. Can you do it?” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have told you her real name! She’s going to kill me!”

I laugh. “She already told me.”

Tears fill her eyes and she blinks hard to hold them back. “She told you?” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” It’s a sudden exhale rather than a word. Then she steels her spine. “So, can you do it?”

I nod. “I can, but not today.”

Her face falls. “Why not?”

“Because you need to go and talk to Star. I’ll doodle something up for you tonight and we can make another appointment if you like it.”

“Oh, okay.” She looks disappointed.

“She’s at my apartment. I’m not going home for a couple of hours, so go.”

She bends down and suddenly kisses my cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod and smile down at the floor. “You know, you could have come to see me without asking for a tattoo.”

“Oh, but I want the tattoo.”

I hold up a hand to stop her. “Any of the Reeds could have done it.”

“Fine,” she says harshly, but then she grins. “I just wanted to talk to you, and I figured I could get to know you while you do the tattoo. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is Star all right?” she asks. “Really?” She looks at me, her eyes fearful as her lower lip trembles. “She’s been through so much.”

“You should go ask her.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Would you just tell me?”

“Nope.” I bite my lips shut.

She rolls her eyes. “I think I like you,” she says, shaking a finger at me.

I hope so because I plan to be a part of her life for however long Star will let me.

She leaves, and I go out where the guys are all sitting around with clients. Paul is leaning over a guy’s shoulder, outlining a big bird. He inks and swipes, inks and swipes. “Did she leave?” he asks.

“Yes. She’ll come back another time.”

“Did she ask you about your junk?” Sam asks. “They always ask me about my junk.” He shakes his head. He’s working on a toe tattoo for a woman. She giggles and he glares at her. It’s funny to watch the Reeds get hit on. They get so offended.

“No, she didn’t ask me about my junk.” But I got the feeling she wanted to. And probably would have.

“Those women have no boundaries.”

“You’re officially their brother-in-law, Sam. You’re part of the family,” Paul tells him.

Sam snorts. “They were asking me about my junk long before Peck and I were married.”

“She said Emilio wants to talk to me,” I blurt out.

“Oh, fuck,” Sam breathes. He presses a finger at the bridge of his nose. “The only time he ever wanted to talk to me, he broke my fucking nose.”

“Did you do anything to make Star sad? Make her mad? Make her unhappy?” Matt asks.

“I don’t think so.”

He shrugs. “Then don’t worry about it. He probably just wants to get to know you.”

“How was the trip?” Paul asks. “Aside from the wild and crazy sex.” He grins.

I smile. “It was really good.”

“Get some closure?” Matt asks.

“Yeah.”

Logan goes into the back of the shop. “Is he okay?” I ask.

“He’s fine,” Paul says. “He turned off his cochlear implant for a few hours.”

“Why?” I look from one brother to another.

“He gets tired,” Matt explains. “They’re not as easy to use as some people assume. It’s work to hear. Sometimes he turns it off and goes back to the quiet so he can think.”

I thought people with implants could suddenly hear. I didn’t know they had to work at it.

“It’s nothing to worry about. He goes back to signing, and so do we.” Paul shrugs. “Speaking of which, we have a new artist starting next week. He’s deaf. You going to be okay with that?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“He doesn’t speak. He only signs.”

“Oh. So can I just write things down for him?” They grimace at me. “Or is there a place where I can go to learn to sign?” I add as soon as I realize I fucked up.