Chapter Twenty-Two

Hunter

My heart is racing, beating abnormally fast as I walk up to the tattoo shop door. I’m not a nervous person, but right now I feel like I’m the quarterback in overtime with three seconds left on the clock, and if I don’t get that ball to one of my boys waiting to catch my throw in the end zone, the other team is going to go straight to the playoffs.

I can’t fail, but I also know it’s a distinct possibility. It’s been over a week since I let Dani push me away with the news that she can’t have kids, and I know that’s been more than enough time for Dani to shore up her protective walls. I can only hope that she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed her, and that she’ll be willing to give me another shot.

I pace outside the door for a good few minutes, unable to gather the nerve to go inside. Next thing I know Dani is right in front of me, holding the door open with one hand all the while her other hand is latched to her hip. “What are you doing here, Hunter?”

I stare at her, taking in her frown and stiff posture, and thinking she’s beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world to me. And if she’s ever going to be mine, I need to prove myself. Prove I’m not looking for easy. I’m not looking for perfect, even as I know she’s the perfect woman for me.

“I’m here to get a tattoo,” I say.

Both eyebrows rise toward her hairline. “Really? You, the man who loves his unmarked, clean-cut good looks and is afraid of needles, is here to get a tattoo?”

“That’s right.”

“Of what?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want.”

She swallows hard. “Why?”

“Because you’re already under my skin, Dani. I want you there. And I want to prove to you I’m capable of working through the pain.”

She stares at me, blinking rapidly, and I see the shimmer of her tears. Her lips tremble, before she visibly composes herself and lifts her chin. “More than one person has gotten into my chair with the intention of getting a tattoo only to get up and walk out and never come back.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s just an observation.”

I nod. “It’s a challenge. One I’m accepting.”

* * *

Dani

Thirty minutes later, Hunter is sitting in my chair. I’d already shown him a template of the tattoo I came up with, and he’d barely looked at it before giving me the go ahead. As I prep my tattoo gun, I can’t help but notice how tense he is.

He’s not going to go through with this, I tell myself. He’ll stop me before I actually ink him. Even so, I hate to see him so tense. (He obviously believes he’s going to go through with getting the tattoo and is freaking out.) To distract him, I say, “I got my first real tattoo sitting in that same chair.”

“Your first real tattoo?”

“Yeah. I was about fourteen the first time I got a tattoo, in the basement of some ex-convict who was a friend of a friend.”

He eyes my body, and I know he’s trying to recall every one of my tattoos.

“It’s long gone now,” I clarify, then set the gun down on the sterile tray. “I had it covered up as soon as I was old enough to step foot into a shop without the consent of a parent.”

He nods.

“You need to take off your shirt.”

He pulls his shirt off and I can’t help but drink in the sight of his muscular bare chest. I try to maintain a professional, unaffected expression.

After a moment of silence, he clears his throat. “So…I hear you’re trying to build a relationship with your father.”

I shrug. “I’m not doing it for me, but for Chad. If it turns out he’s trying to take advantage of either of us, I’ll show him the door and slam it for good in his ghost-ass face.”

“It’s brave of you to give him a second chance. Maybe you’re willing to extend that same graciousness to others? Because your father’s not the only one who made the mistake of walking away from you.”

I blink. Lick my lips. Try to hang on to my composure, but he’s been ripping down my protective walls since the moment he walked into the shop.

“You don’t really want a tattoo, Hunter. I think you should just admit it.”

“And then what?”

“Then we go our separate ways. You and me—we don’t work. We…”

My voice chokes up and I look away, aware of his gaze on me for several seconds before he shifts, and picks up the template I made from my tray.

The design is beautiful—and I’m not just saying that because I drew it up myself on the computer. It’s a vibrant display of watercolors painted across a tapestry of stars, and in the stars, there are distinct, unrecognizable faces peaking through the abyss.

“What does this mean to you?” he asks.

I lift my chin. “It represents the people who have come and gone in my life. Some who cared about me. Some who I cared about. But none who stayed.”

“So you see it as a reminder that we came into each other’s lives and then moved on?”

I shrug.

He sits back. “Do it, Dani.”

He sounds utterly serious.

I shake my head. “Hunter…”

“Do it, Dani. Not because I want to go our separate ways, but because people have come and gone in my life, too. Some who I cared about. But none who stayed. None who I wanted to stay. Not until you.”

I freeze and my gaze jumps to his. Instinctively I want to shout, No fair! He knows my family history. That my father didn’t stay. How I’m afraid that no man will stay with me because of my inability to have kids.

And now he’s telling me that he wants me to stay, even knowing what he knows about me?

Him? Hunter Kiss?

Golden boy agent who can have any woman he wants?

No. He’s fooling himself. Thinking he can fool me.

“Plenty of women would stay if you want them to. Amy’s super interested. Why don’t you just call her up and invite her to your place again. This time, I promise I won’t run her off.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. I know who you’re talking about, but I swear, I haven’t talked to her since before I first met you.”

It’s not just his words or tone that makes me believe him, it’s the look in his eyes. His expression of utter truth and sincerity. I’d been wrong about him bribing Chad. I’d obviously been wrong to believe Amy about Hunter asking her over.

“Fine. For the final time, are you sure you want this tattoo? You sure you want me to ink it?”

“I’m sure.”

I place the design against his arm, and then fold it around carefully to get perfect placement. I pick up the ink gun, preparing to inject ink into his muscular, virgin flesh.

“Okay, here we go.”

He takes a deep breath, we take a deep breath together, and I press the throttle and run the gun over his skin. His entire body tenses as I begin to outline the eyes of the first face in the background, using a medium-shade of blue. He relaxes slightly the more time that goes by.

I’m about half-way done when I’m suddenly overcome with emotion and I stop because my hands start to shake and my eyes begin to water.

I put down my tattoo gun and am about to turn away, mumbling that I need a quick break, when he gently takes my arm, stopping me. After tipping my face up so I’m looking into his eyes, he shakes his head, his eyes lit up like the fourth of July with an intensity and hunger I’ve not quite seen before. “I need you, Dani Cross.”

He kisses me, pulling me inside out with the touch of his lips against mine. And it feels right. It feels like fate. It feels like…love?

I don’t know. All I know is that it’s dangerous. But I also know some of the most worthwhile things are dangerous.

Maybe, just maybe, Hunter is my chance worth taking.

I revel in the way he’s able to lift my spirits with nothing more than a kiss. And when he breaks away, his breath hot, husky fire against my sensitive lips, he cups my face and looks into my eyes as if I’m his entire world. “Let me in and give us an honest shot at finding out what we can be. Because when I’m with you, I feel something.”

I cup his jaw in both my hands. “I feel something too. But I’m scared.”

“I know you are. But here’s the thing—all my life, I’ve chased money and success. I’ve chased women, but they never stayed for long because I never wanted them to stay.” He swallows a nervous lump in his throat and wets his lips. “You’re different. I don’t want to wake up to find you gone.” His gaze bores into mine. “I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay, too,” I manage to whisper.

“Then we’re going to work out the bullshit, and it’ll be hard because we’re not used to staying--we’re not used to other people staying—but we’re going to stay.”

I nod. “I’m good with that.” I clear my throat. “But first, I need to finish this damn tattoo because right now, you look like an idiot with half an eye outlined.”

He barks with laughter. “You always know the exact right thing to say.”

“Of course I do.” I’m almost choking on happy tears. “I’m a romantic, after all. Now, let’s get back to work.”

As I trade my now contaminated gloves for a fresh pair, he sits down, lets out an exhale of hot, nervous air, then closes his eyes when I press the gun against his arm.

“Relax,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”

He opens his eyes and says, in all seriousness, “I know you do,” before closing his eyes again.

As the gun buzzes and I color lines of watercolor into his tan skin, I think about how much I love the art of ink. I think about the sense of fulfillment I find in tattooing, and then I think that maybe…

Just maybe…

I can find that same sense of peace and love with him.

Hunter fucking Kiss of all people.

I guarantee nobody saw this coming.

I certainly didn’t.