“It’s badass, right?” I stretch my arm out wide and stare at the finished tatt again.

Opal grins at me from across the room. “Very badass.”

“Okay, Opal, you’re next. Give me a few minutes to clean this up and switch out supplies.” Avery’s been awesome. Talented and completely professional. This shop had stellar reviews, but I think we lucked out with her taking walk-ins today.

Stepping up to the mirrored wall, I examine the image now permanently inked on my body. It’s a play off the Grateful Dead’s Reckoning album on the inside of my bicep. The record was a secret gift from my Uncle Bedo for my eleventh birthday. I listened to On the Road Again on repeat every chance I had. That album was what made me dream of being more than a concert pianist.

I give it one more long look before turning away from the mirror. My mother would lose her shit if she saw this. A rush of delight courses through my body at my act of rebellion.

“Okay, Opal, what’ll it be for you?” Avery pats the center of the reclined chair.

“Oh, um.” Opal hops up and sits in the center. She twists her hands together in her lap. She’s hesitant to explain her tattoo, and for the first time today I feel in the way. Maybe she doesn’t want me here.

“Do you want me to wait in the other room?”

“No,” she says a little too loudly, leveling her voice as she meets my stare. “You promised to hold my hand, remember?” She inhales a deep breath and then turns to Avery, this time her shoulders back and head high. “I’m from Texas, so I was thinking a bluebonnet. I could always have a little of my roots with me. And then, I wanted to add on these words.” Opal pulls her phone from her back pocket and pulls something up on the screen.

Avery smiles and nods. “In that handwriting, too?”

“Yes, please.”

“Send that photo to me, and I’ll draw it up. Now, where are you thinking for placement and size?”

Opal’s face heats with a blush and she drops her chin to the side. “Here,” she raises her left arm and runs her hand over her ribcage, the section of skin that’s precariously close to her breast. “I know it’ll hurt like the dickens, but I still want it here.”

Avery grins. “Took the warning right out of my mouth. As long as you’re prepared for the pain, we’re good. It’ll look amazing there. We adding blue, or do you want it all black and white?”

“Blue for the flowers.”

“Beautiful. I love it. Give me a few minutes. You’ll need to ditch the bra and shirt.” She reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a few paper sheets, the same kind they keep at doctors’ offices. “I’ll help you get situated when I come back.”

“Thanks.” Opal nods and as soon as Avery is out the door she raises her hand and levels me with a serious stare. “Don’t ask. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Wasn’t going to.” I chuckle and eye her paper towels. “You’re gonna make me turn around, aren’t you?”

“Yes, please.” She groans and her skin blotches with a blush.

I turn my back and even though I’m tempted to sneak a look, I don’t. I may fall short in many ways, but I was raised a gentleman.

Avery returns with the artwork and helps Opal lay on her side, having her tuck one arm under her head, and the other over. She tapes one of the paper sheets onto Opal’s chest to provide the maximum coverage, and drapes the other over her stomach. “He staying?” She glances at where I’m standing in the corner.

Opal nods and I can practically feel her nerves. I don’t want to get in Avery’s way, but I need to put Opal at ease. I promised.

“Hey, I’m here.” I take the extra chair from the corner and scoot it over to the top end of the reclining chair where Opal’s head rests. Taking a seat, I reach forward and lace our fingers together and give her a light squeeze.

Opal tilts her chin up so she can meet my gaze. She mouths the words, “Thank you,” and the relief is clear in her eyes.

“Alright, sister. Here we go.” Avery goes to work, the buzz of her needle a constant thrum while she follows the transparent stencil on Opal’s skin. It’s mesmerizing to watch her work.

“You’re doing so good,” I whisper and meet Opal’s wide eyes. She’s staring at me and now I can’t look away. It’s oddly intimate, holding her hand while she’s in a compromising position. She trusts me. It hits me square in the chest and I concentrate on slowing my own pulse because her trust is something I most certainly don’t deserve.

“Not so bad,” she says through a rushed breath while Avery reloads with more ink. “How’s it lookin’?”

Gorgeous. Sexy. Badass. “Beautiful.”

She nods, her lips pulling into a soft smile. We stay like this, connected, for the full two hours it takes Avery to complete the artwork. The flower is delicate, a simple beauty, and a perfect fit for Opal. The words, obviously personal and in a scrawled handwriting, wrap through wildflower buds and speak profoundly to my soul.

“Wherever I wander, you’re always with me.” I say them aloud as Avery cleans the area. I look at Opal for an explanation, but instead she draws her hand out of mine.

“Let’s get you up so you can see.” Avery helps Opal to sit and then off the chair. “You sat like a champ, girl. I’d never have known that was your first.”

“My God,” Opal exclaims in a breathy voice as she steps up to the mirrored wall, her free hand holding the paper intact across her chest. “It’s beautiful, Avery. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her voice is thick with emotion.

“Anytime.” Avery’s lips twist up with a smile. She glances at me. “How about you head out to the front so I can help our girl get dressed.”

I glance at Opal to make sure she’s good with that plan. At her nod, I turn back to Avery. “See you up front.” I walk back the way we came in, careful not to brush my arm against my body.

I love my tattoo. I already want another one and can see why they’re addicting.

Opal and Avery rejoin me a few minutes later. We each settle our balance, offering another round of thanks and compliments to our talented artist before she heads back with her next client.

“I did it!” She turns to me as soon as we’re alone. Her lips stretch with a wide smile and she bounces on the tip of her toes. “I can’t believe I did it!”

“Believe it.”

“Wasn’t Avery the best? I kinda want another already. But only from her.”

My grin spreads wide. “I had the same feeling. I’m glad we did this today.”

“Me, too. Thanks for the invitation.”

The pleasure’s all mine. That’s what I almost say, but thank God I snap my mouth shut because that would be about the most uncool thing to say right now. My eyes go to her blouse, and I can’t help but ask the question that’s been at the forefront of my mind since reading the phrase on her skin. “The words on your tattoo. Are they yours?”

Opal shakes her head and presses her lips together. Her smile is gone and somehow her eyes appear even bigger and brighter than before. I almost apologize for the question, but before I do, she answers. “My dad. Those were his words to my mama. Before I was born.”

She inked their love on her skin. Near her heart. So they’ll be with her always, along with the Texas flower. She’s one of kind. Amazing. I doubt she realizes how special she is. My adoration for her inner strength and perseverance only grows. I’m at a complete loss for words, so instead I reach for her hand.

Her gaze drops to the floor but she gives me a gentle squeeze.

A chime rings from somewhere nearby at the same time my cell vibrates from my back pocket. Opal draws her hand back and pulls out her phone. “It’s Trent. He made dinner reservations for seven.”

I pull out my cell and see I have the same message. My stomach grumbles at the thought of food, and I’m not surprised it’s almost four o’clock. We’ve been in the tattoo shop for most of the day, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Sharing this experience with Opal, a first for both of us, feels special and strangely profound.

“That gives us a little time to kill.” I lift my gaze to hers. “Anything else you want to get done?”

She tilts her head and scrunches her nose. “Like pierce my nipples?”

“What?” I cough out and almost choke. The thought of her topless, well, it’s enough that I forget how to breathe.

“Joking.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. Glancing down at her phone, she taps the screen. “There’s a mall near the restaurant. Mind stopping there first? I need to expand my clothing options. Desperately.”

“Sure. I’ll get us an Uber.” I pull out my phone.

“Shouldn’t I be doing that? Assistant work.” She bumps her shoulder against mine.

“You’re off today. Besides, the tattoo parlor was my choice. Surely I can stand a few hours of clothes shopping.”

“Thank you.” Her smile is so sincere. Radiant. I want to spend the rest of the afternoon getting her to look at me like this.

I clear my throat. “For what?”

“For inviting me today. This was everything I needed.” Her smile illuminates every feature on her face and chases every worry from my mind.

She’s everything I needed, too.

A few hours later we step into the bustling Italian restaurant to meet the guys for dinner. My arms are loaded down with the bags I insisted on carrying. Okay, so some of them are mine. Opal wasn’t the only one in need of a wardrobe ramp up.

Shopping should have been boring, or a pain in the ass, but together we laughed and tried on all sorts of clothes—most of them out of our usual style and comfort zone. An added bonus? She modeled everything, wanting my opinion. I already suspected Opal had an incredible body, but now I know for certain. And with the new tatt she wasn’t able to wear a bra. It was as if the shopping gods were shining down.

That is, until we came upon a popular lingerie store. For that she made me stay outside. She insisted she wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye ever again if I knew what her undergarments looked like. I can’t stop imagining her undergarments as it is, but her modesty adds fuel to my curiosity. It’s taken a great show of willpower to not peek inside the pink stripped bag.

I don’t know if it’s the freedom, or shopping, or the new tattoo, but there’s a confidence to her I’ve never seen before today. Even now, the way she struts inside and right up to the host stand with her shoulders back and head held high says she’s not taking shit from anyone. Of course, she’s still polite. “Excuse me. We’re meeting friends. Reservation at seven.”

“Opal?” the host asks.

“That’s me.”

“Right this way.”

The host leads us through the restaurant, past the bar to a private dining room. Nice. People might not recognize who I am, but Three Ugly Guys can’t go anywhere without making a scene. Trent, Austin, and Sean gather around a table, lifting their gazes and saying hello.

I set our shopping bags out of the way and take an empty seat. My stomach groans loudly at the promise of a big meal. I’m starving.

“What happened? What’s wrong with your face?” Austin narrows his gaze and stares.

“Huh?” I snag a breadstick from the table and break off a piece to pop in my mouth.

“It’s so happy.” He reaches across the table and pokes my cheek with his breadstick. “Why are you happy?”

I laugh and knock him away from my face. “I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“You’re doing it, too.” Austin narrows his gaze on Opal before giving in to a laugh. “What the fuck did you two do today?”

“Shit . . .” Trent swears and rubs his temples.

“You two didn’t . . .” Sean’s eyes go wide and I hear him whisper next to me, “Fuck?”

Opal’s cheeks flood with heat.

“Jesus!” I shout a little too loudly. “We just got tattoos!”

Austin’s gaze bounces between us. His brow furrows and he scratches his head. “Like, matching ones?”

“No.” I let loose a laugh. “That would be crazy.” It would. It’s insane. But somehow the thought of having the same symbol inked on her skin as mine sounds fucking hot. I must be losing my mind.

Trent’s gaze is serious and his voice level as he turns to Opal. “You really got a tattoo?”

She grins, but it’s forced and she worries her lip between her front teeth. “Sure did.”

Trent releases a breath, his eyes widening as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Lexi’s gonna kill me.”

Why would Trent’s girlfriend care about Opal getting a tattoo? Unless . . . I could already piece together there was more to their connection than a hired assistant. But how exactly? Is she a friend of Lexi’s? Relative?

“I’m just saying . . .” Trent pushes his hair back from his face, his displeasure evident.

“What? What are you sayin’?” Opal’s voice wavers as she meets his stare.

“Trent,” Sean warns, dragging his name out.

“Fuck. I don’t know. It’s just . . . Ink is permanent. For life. You shouldn’t rush a decision like this.”

Opal’s lips press into a thin line and by the glassy sheen in her eyes, I’d say she’s seconds away from crying. Shit. What is wrong with Trent? This isn’t his choice. Opal can tattoo every square inch of her body if that’s what she wants.

Irritation sparks in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t get in the middle of this. I don’t need any more problems than I already have, and starting beef with a bandmate isn’t gonna help. But before I can open my mouth to come to her defense Opal surprises us all.

“Y’all need to take a step back.” She shoves to her feet, her chair scraping with a loud screech against the floor. She glares hard at Trent, Sean, and Austin. I’ve never heard Opal raise her voice. Not once, but she’s raising it now. “This is my body. I’m a grown-ass woman. And while I appreciate everything y’all have done for me, you do not get to control what I do, where I go, or what I ink onto my skin. That clear?” Her hands go to her hips and she glares, practically begging someone to argue.

Take-no-shit-Opal is sexy as hell.

Trent sits up straight in his chair, his eyes wide as he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She heaves an exhale that relaxes her shoulders and sits back in her seat.

“You gonna show us?” Austin’s grin spreads across his entire face, his eyes practically eating up every inch of her exposed skin in search of the tattoo. Fuck. I hate the way he looks at her. More, how she lights up when he does it.

A surge of possessiveness invades my thoughts. I really don’t want her to show off her tattoo—to Austin or anyone. It’s something we shared. The two of us. It felt special. More than simple ink on skin. A first for both of us. A liberation into the creative freedom we’ve been denied. Also, it’s sexy as fuck.

“Hmm?” She glances up.

“The tattoo.” He points to her. “Can we see it?”

“Oh, um, no. It’s private.” Her eyes meet mine as heat travels up her cheeks.

Trent groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Dear God, please tell me you didn’t tattoo your who-ha.”

“What? No!” Her brows rise before her gaze flits back to mine briefly. She goes back to studying the silverware, straightening them atop the white cloth napkin. “It’s just in a place I’d rather not show. It’s personal.”

“But it’s not in your Lady Garden?” Trent asks, completely serious.

Her head snaps up. “Watch your mouth! No! I would never . . .” She can’t even say it.

“Does anyone want to see my tattoo?” I scoot my chair back in a movement that almost sends it toppling backward. Not waiting for an answer, I pull off my shirt and lift my right arm.

Opal meets my gaze. If there was ever a look that said thank you without any words, it’s the one she gives me now.

My heart stutters to a gallop. A somersault. Then wheels off the edge of a cliff.

Fuck. I’ve got it bad.

Sean chuckles. “Stupid.”

I turn to meet his stare. “What? It’s Grateful Dead. They’re GREAT.”

“No. You’re an idiot. We’re on tour and that’s gonna hurt like a mother. You play drums, man. There’s this thing called chafing.”

“I can handle it.” I puff up my chest but, shit, I hadn’t really considered it.

“Sure, man.” He shakes his head, laughing.

“Badass.” Austin tips up his chin with approval. He glances down at his own arms. “You only need . . . oh, about another hundred hours or so to catch up.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to be you.” The words come out snippier than I intend. His face shows a flicker of hurt and I immediately wish I could take it back. Fuck. It’s not his fault I’m crushing on Opal. I take the opportunity to pull my shirt back on, careful not to hit the ink.

“I’ve never met anyone like our Austin.” Trent clasps him on the shoulder and pulls him to his side.

“I’m a fucking Rembrandt.”

“Funny.” Trent squints as he assesses his friend. “I always pegged you for a Van Gogh.”

Austin begins to smile, but it falls. “Hey, didn’t that guy cut off his own ear?”

“Yep.” Trent beams.

“Fuck you.” Austin shoves away from Trent’s side and leans his elbows on the table. “I get no respect.”

They’re teasing, but there’s a comradery between these guys that sparks a touch of envy. I’ll never have that. Or be fully included. I understand why. I mean, these guys built their brand, earned fans, and created music from years of hard work and perseverance. I wasn’t a part of that journey. I’m hopping on the train after it already left the station. But man, I yearn for that kind of friendship. Ride or die. Something real.

“Is everyone ready to order, or should I come back?” our server asks.

“I’m starving.” Trent pats his belly.

The server steps between him and Austin, scribbling on his pad.

“Me, too,” Austin grumbles as he scans the menu. “This better be good.”

“Won’t come close to Opal’s cooking, but she’s earned a night off.” I lift my gaze, unable to keep my eyes off of her. The soft smile she gives does that thing to my pulse again.

My phone buzzes from my back pocket and just like that my gut fills with dread. Considering I’m surrounded with the band, I don’t have to guess who it is. “I’m gonna hit the restroom. Order for me? The chicken parm.”

“Sure thing.” She gives me one last smile before I’m out the door.

I head to the restroom before pulling out my cell.

The Devil: Nice work.

There’s a link attached. Dread fills my gut as I click on it. The celebrity gossip site loads, but I can already guess the topic.

SEAN WILLIS STEALS FORMER DRUMMER’S GIRLFRIEND FOR HIMSELF . . . AND MARRIES HER!

The article, poorly written and mixed with what I assume is a mixture of fact and fiction, also includes a few photos of the band at a charity event. There I find a candid of Sean and Coy, the former drummer, arms around each other like they’re the best of friends, followed by a few photos of Jess with Coy and then Jess with Sean. She’s attractive, but the intense, almost sad look in her eyes would keep me at a distance. Then there’s the photos of Sean and her in the backyard. Before I can read much further my uncle sends another message.

The Devil: I can see you took our talk to heart. I expect an update soon.

Within seconds another image comes through, but this photo isn’t linked to a website. I don’t know where the hell he got it, but I know exactly when and where it was taken. Opal’s caught mid-step, those fucking boots and short skirt just as sexy as in person. I’m at her left, my hand behind her as if I’m about to touch the small of her back. The radio station. I should be irritated at the intrusion of privacy, but seeing the two of us together, it looks as if we’re a couple. God, how I want us to be a couple.

The Devil: See you in Boston. I expect more.

My uncle’s message is the only reminder I need. As much as I’m interested in Opal, I can’t go there. Each time we’re together I learn something new about who she is. About her past. I can’t exploit her, but my uncle will force my hand.

Unless . . . maybe I could find a way to keep my uncle off my back, and Opal to myself? If I push for a little more about why she’s here and what she’s hiding, I could protect her. My uncle doesn’t need the truth. As long as I give him something, he’ll leave me alone. It’s a win-win. I get to keep the gig and get the girl.

Okay, so my plan isn’t altruistic in the least. But I like her. I want her.

Shit.

I haven’t been this twisted up over a girl, since . . . ever. Never have I ever been this into someone. It’s reason enough to leave her alone. I don’t need to complicate my situation. I’m here to play drums. For the rock star experience. And that doesn’t include a girl.

Only, I can’t turn back what we’ve started. She’s already worked her way inside my heart. I’ve shared things I’ve never trusted anyone else with before. She’s good. Not in a superficial way. But in that deep-rooted virtuousness very few people possess. There’s no way I could cut her out of my life, not after today. Fuck.

When did things become so complicated?