“Damn.”

Emmie turned around. “What?”

Ox stood in the doorway of the 7th Avenue entrance, staring at her.

“Ox?”

“Damn… I forgot my book at home.” He dragged his eyes away from her and over to his side of the shop. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks.” Emmie frowned, glancing down at the skinny black jeans and T-shirt she was wearing. “Tayla picked it out.”

“That shirt comfortable on your back?”

“Yeah, the scabbing isn’t too bad.”

“Let me know if you need anything for it.” He took off the old leather jacket he wore when he rode his bike and hung his helmet on the hook by the closet door. “It’s getting cold out there.”

Ox was living at his mom’s ranch in Oakville, about a thirty-minute drive from Metlin, but she had to imagine the wind was vicious when he was driving in the country. He’d spoken about his mom Joan, his sister Melissa, and his niece, who was nine, but Emmie had yet to meet any of them.

“No truck today?”

“My sister needed it. She was taking some goats to Abby’s class today.”

“Goats?”

He turned and grinned. “You like goats?”

“Sure.” Her face heated up. “Who doesn’t like goats?”

“Me.” Ox laughed. “They’re devils.”

“They are not.” She turned around and got back shelving books. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“Okay, you get your favorite shirt eaten and tell me how misunderstood they are,” he growled. “Just don’t show up at the ranch in those jeans. There’s hardly anything left of them as it is.”

“Tayla calls them ‘artfully torn.’”

“Okay, sure.” He cleared his throat. “By the way, my mom might be coming by today. She’s been begging to see the shop, and she claims it’s unfair to make her wait until the opening.”

“Oh cool! Can’t wait to meet her.” Emmie reached for the top shelf in the science fiction section. “Ox, were you looking at these?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He walked over and reached over her head. “Last night. I probably got them out of order.”

“Did you already finish The Martian?”

“I did. I couldn’t put it down. Melissa’s reading it now.”

“Cool. He has a new one out. I already ordered a couple of copies.”

“Nice,” he said, flipping through a collection of Asimov short stories. “Maybe I can start some kind of account. That way I can pick up stuff for my mom too. I no longer have control of the television remote.”

“Reading more?”

He scraped at the stubble on his chin. “Since I prefer that to Disney channel? Yes.”

“Just let me know what you want.”

“Do those go up there?” He pointed to the books in her hand. “Hand them here.”

“I can get a stool.”

“Or I can do it because I’m right here.” He smiled and grabbed the books. Ox towered over her, quickly putting the books in the correct order. “Anything else?”

Do that again, but shirtless.

Emmie smiled. “Nope.”

Ox ran a finger along the spines of the new books. “You got me hooked on reading again, and now I don’t have enough time.”

Emmie watched his finger. She was a bad person. She was a very bad person. She cleared her throat and forced her eyes away from his hands. “Your mom was a teacher, right?”

“Yep.”

“But no college for you?”

“Oh, she wanted me to go.” He shook his head as he walked back to his side of the shop. “My grades were okay, but I hated school. Well, I liked art, welding, and shop class. Other than that, I hated it. Melissa went. She has a degree in biology.”

“Fair enough.” She opened a box of new historical romances. “So how did you start tattooing?”

“My high school girlfriend suggested it after seeing my sketchbook,” he said. “I checked it out and decided it would be fun to train. Figured I could help out on the ranch and make some extra money during the slow season.”

“But it ended up being a full-time job, huh?”

He shrugged and opened his laptop. “Melissa and my mom don’t need much help, so they let me coast.”

“And now you’re a business owner.”

“Yeah, I am.” His expression turned grim. “It’s gonna be good.”

“It’s gonna be great.” She wished she could feel more enthusiastic, but as they counted down the last days till the opening, her nerves were as jumpy as his.

“Are we crazy?”

Emmie turned to see Ox staring at her. “What?”

“You and me.” He leaned on the counter, his eyes locked on her. “Are we crazy? We don’t have business degrees. I’ve never run a business before. Neither have you. Are we nuts to think we can do this?”

“No.” She said it with more confidence than she felt. “We’ll run into problems we don’t expect, but we’re smart. We work hard. We’ll figure it out. And there’s two of us. We can back each other up, right? That’s more than what a lot of new businesses have.”

He smiled slowly. “I got your back.”

“And I got yours.” She nodded. “See, we’ll be fine.”

His eyes drifted across the street. “I’m surprised Ginger hasn’t been blowing up my phone.”

Emmie hadn’t told him about Ginger’s visit. It wasn’t necessary, and she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Maybe she just realizes that there’s room in Metlin for another shop. You’re certainly not her only competition.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His expression said he didn’t believe her. “Anything I can help with?”

“Most of the books are shelved. My windows are done.” She looked around at the nearly finished shop. “Help me set up the tables for the opening?”

He smiled. “Anything for you, Buttons.”

“You really need to stop.”

“Never.”

It was the night before the opening. Everything was set up. Tayla, Daisy, Emmie, Ox, Ethan, and Spider were gathered in the lounge, sharing the bottle of bourbon Ox had opened from his grandpa’s stash.

Spider nodded at the first taste. “This is nice, man.” He held up his glass. “To Emmie and Ox. To INK. Mountains of success, you two. Seriously. You guys have worked your asses off.”

Everyone raised their glass. “To INK.”

Emmie raised her glass again and looked at Ox. “To new friends and old ones.”

Ox nodded. “To friends.”

They all drank and wandered around, Tayla fussing with the decorations for the next day’s grand opening while Ethan showed Daisy the refinished woodwork. Ox, Emmie, and Spider gathered around his chair.

“This is nice, man.” Spider ran a hand along the old leather. “Did you get this from Brewster’s?”

Ox nodded. “Mr. Brewster and my pop were buddies and I know his son. He had it stored in their barn, but they didn’t know what to do with it. No new barber shops opening in town, you know?”

“Give it time,” Spider said. “Guys like us don’t use the fancy barber, but look at Ethan.”

Emmie snickered. “Ethan spends more on his hair than I do.”

Ox tugged her braid. “Your hair is perfect. You don’t need to do anything fancy to it.”

She tried to ignore the rush of pleasure and Spider’s curious expression.

What you up to, Mimi? his eyebrow said.

None of your business, her eyes answered.

“So!” Emmie patted Ox’s chair. “Who’s your first appointment?”

“You.” Ox put his bourbon down on the counter. “Sit.”

“What?”

Spider nodded. “Good call.”

“I just finished getting ink less than a week ago.” She held up her hand. “I’m done for a while.”

“Come on,” Ox said. “Something small.”

Spider said, “You don’t want the first tattoo in a new place to be a stranger. Good luck for it to be a friend.”

She crossed her arms and glared at Spider. “You told me you were the only one allowed to tattoo me from now on.”

“I’ll make an exception for your partner. I trust Ox.” Spider locked eyes with the bigger man. “Conditionally.”

Ox smiled a little. “Understood.” He slapped the back of the chair. “Sit, Buttons. You got me hooked on sci-fi. I’m giving you ink. My treat.”

“Ox—”

“The first tattoo in my own place,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to share this with everyone. Just friends.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to ignore the flutter in her belly. “But I have no idea what to get.”

Ox reached for her wrist. “Something small. Something you can see.” He ran his thumb over her wrist. “Here?”

Emmie had been thinking about a wrist tattoo. “That sounds good.”

Spider stood back while Emmie sat in Ox’s chair. He pulled out a pen and held her wrist in his hand. “I work in black and grey.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, let me…” He bent over her wrist and drew on Emmie’s skin, the angle hiding his pen from her eyes.

After a few minutes, he lifted his pen and showed Emmie what he’d drawn. It was a single book lying open. Above the book, in an outline mirroring the curve of the pages, was a set of wings. It was as if a bird had lifted from the page and taken flight into the distance.

“Wow.” It was bigger than she’d expected, but it was perfect. Totally perfect.

“You like it?”

“I like it.”

Spider looked over her shoulder. “That’ll look nice on your wrist. Good size.”

Ox ignored Spider and locked eyes with her. “Is this it?”

Emmie nodded. “I want it.”

“Cool.” He smiled and grabbed a piece of paper, quickly copying the book and the bird, adding shading and dimension until the small drawing looked like it would leap off the page.

The stencil was printed and placed. She nodded and watched Ox’s face as he started his gun.

Emmie hissed when the needle touched her skin, but she remained perfectly still, her left arm resting on the warm leather of the chair as Ox worked in silence. The wrist wasn’t as painful as the spine. She could deal.

Their friends had gathered in the lounge, Tayla switching the music from rock to an oldies station. Spider pulled Daisy into a slow dance as the sound of Ritchie Valens singing “Donna” filled the shop and Ethan opened a growler of beer.

Ox lifted his needle and wiped away the blood and ink staining her skin. “This is it,” he said, catching her eye. “This is the beginning.”

“Excited or scared?”

“Since I’m not an idiot, a little of both.” He glanced up. “Thanks, Emmie.”

She smiled. “For what? I’m the one getting a free tattoo.”

He bent over her wrist again, working the needle over the delicate skin. “Thanks for dreaming big enough for both of us.”

Her heart pounded hard. “And thanks for having my back.”

Ox lifted his head and locked his eyes with hers. “Always.”