Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Welcome to Exposed Ink,” he greets. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Kinsley.”
“Are you looking to get inked or pierced?” he asks.
“Um, neither. I was hoping to speak with her. Is she around?” I glance down the hallway, hoping to catch her, but it’s empty.
The guy eyes me curiously for several seconds before he says, “What’s your name?”
“Shane.”
“And what do you want to speak to her about, Shane?”
Okay … this guy is either protective or has a thing for Kinsley.
“I met her last week and wanted to talk to her about something personal.”
After a long moment, he says, “Give me a minute,” then disappears down the hall, going into the second door on the right.
While I wait, I check out the shop. I’ve never been in here before, but it’s not how I imagined a tattoo shop would look. With an L-shaped black leather sectional, a sleek black coffee table with what looks like photo albums sitting on them, and a red felt pool table, the waiting area looks more like something you’d see in a wealthy person’s house or an upscale club than a tattoo shop.
There’s cool graffiti donning the walls, and I notice that several are sporting Kinsley’s name underneath them. If the drawings on the wall are any indication, she’s a seriously talented artist.
The front desk is sleek black, and to the right of it is a glass case with a bunch of jewelry inside it. Hanging above the case are several pictures in frames. I step closer to get a better look and immediately recognize Kinsley standing in between the two older people I saw at the hospital, the ones I assumed to be her parents. She doesn’t really look like either one, but her soft smile is identical to the woman who has her arm wrapped around Kinsley’s waist.
“Can I help you?” Kinsley says, steering my attention from the picture over to her.
She’s wearing a similar outfit to the one she was wearing at Neptune’s—a black Exposed Ink shirt and ripped jeans that mold to her shapely legs. Instead of the black Chucks she was sporting, she’s in white today. And unlike the high ponytail her hair was in, it’s down in two braids, making her look younger than her twenty-eight years.
“Hey, I don’t know if you remember me …
“I do,” she says without so much as a smile, her expression giving absolutely nothing away. “You’re the guy from the hospital.”
“Yeah.” I step closer to her, ignoring the guy who’s now back to sitting behind the desk, watching our exchange. “How are you doing?”
“Wow.” She laughs softly—a tiny smile curling up at the corners of her mouth—and tilts her head slightly to the side. “First, a hospital call, and now, you’re at my work to check on me. They should give you a Paramedic of the Year award.”
I chuckle. “I swear, I normally don’t do this. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I was wondering if you might want to hang out sometime.” Holy shit, I sound like a fucking teenage boy. “I mean, I was hoping you might want to go out with me … to eat.” I push out a harsh breath and shake my head. “I’m sorry, I seriously suck at this. It’s been a while since I asked a woman out and …”
Kinsley snorts out a laugh, her blue eyes brightening with mirth, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her laugh and smile, and, holy shit, she was beautiful before, but when she smiles, she lights up the whole damn place.
“What I’m trying to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?”
Kinsley’s smile drops, and before she speaks, I already know what her answer is going to be. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but the only way we can spend any time together is if I’m inking you … or you’re treating me in an ambulance. And since I don’t plan to consume any more raw fruit, the second option is out. I appreciate you saving me, and you seem like a nice guy, but I’m unavailable.”
I’m confused by her words since her cousin said otherwise at the hospital, but before I can seek clarification, she dismisses me by quickly telling me to have a good day and then heading back down the hallway, disappearing into the room the front-desk guy went into.
“Sorry, man,” front-desk guy says, shooting me a sympathetic look.
“Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me that she’s taken,” I say as the guy from the hospital and picture steps out of the first room, his eyes focused intently on me.
“I’m Lachlan, Kinsley’s dad,” he says, pulling his glove off his hand and extending it.
“Shane.” I shake his hand. “I’m the paramedic who brought her in last week.”
“I know who you are. Thank you for saving my daughter’s life. And FYI, she’s not taken.”