“I’m so glad you decided to come into town with me,” Kayla said as she peeked over at Dave from the passenger side of the 1934 Ford Model A truck the Hot Rods had modified and gifted to him after his accident. He still loved the thing. Though he didn’t plan to admit it, the hand controls were a welcome break for his leg, even now.

“You know I love you because I even enjoy shopping with you,” he teased her. “You can pay me back later for all the packages I’m about to carry for you.”

“Oh, I plan to.” Kayla grinned as she shot him a look scorching enough to fog up the windshield.

“I meant by giving me a massage after walking around on hard pavement and concrete store floors for hours, but…hey, whatever you’re thinking works too.” He chuckled when she blushed. “So where exactly am I going?”

“You can pull into the lot behind Roe Brother’s.”

“You’re taking me to a hardware store?” He shot her a wide-eyed glance. “Now we’re talking.”

“Well, no. Sorry. You have enough tools at home.”

“You’ve never complained about my tool before, baby.”

She laughed at that and squeezed his knee, careful not to hit any of the places that caused him pain.

“But I guess that makes sense, since it’s not like you’re going to be shopping for my gift when I’m with you.” He shrugged. Maybe they could swing through on their way home. Not that he really needed anything, but it never hurt to browse or soak in the smell of a solid old hardware store. You never knew what useful treasure you were going to find in there.

“Okay, so...actually…” Kayla sputtered, toying with her lip ring. It was a habit she often fell into when she was searching for the right way to say something.

Dave pulled into an empty spot, then turned to look at his gorgeous, tattooed, and pierced wife. She might not be traditionally beautiful, but she was the most incredible woman he’d ever seen. Exotic, unique, and colorful. Even her hair was dyed in rainbow streaks at the moment. He adjusted his cock in his jeans, wondering how bad it would be if they got caught making out like reckless teenagers in the hardware store lot. The old man who owned the place, Albert, would probably never let him live it down. He didn’t care.

“What I mean…”

What was she up to? “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just hope you don’t freak out.”

“I’m not really the kind of man who flies off the handle, am I?” He’d learned early that he came off a little too much like the Hulk if he lost his temper. He was too big and tall for raging. “I’m more the broody type.”

Kayla choked at that, then she nodded. “Right. So, I made an appointment for you to get your first tattoo. Merry Christmas.”

“I’m getting a tattoo?” He tipped his head as if that would help him see her point better. “You know I love your ink and all our piercings, but I’ve never…”

Except that one time he’d mentioned his crazy idea recently, after a few too many drinks with the rest of the crew.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t remember or that maybe you weren’t serious.” She deflated, her shoulders slumping.

“No, I do.” He rubbed his leg. “It’s just that… Did they say it would be okay? Over scar tissue?”

“They wanted you to come in so they can look at it in person before they make a final determination, but I showed them pictures. They think they can pull it off. Especially since your design sort of works with the damage instead of trying to fight it.” Kayla smiled softly. “I just want you to know I’m not doing this because I don’t like the way your leg looks now. I love all of you. But if it makes you less self conscious about it, then I think you should go for it.”

“Let’s do it.” He flung open his door and started marching, as much as he could with his limp, toward the back door of the tattoo parlor next to the hardware store. It was where his wife got all her work done. He’d admired the artists’ skills up close on many occasions. They were geniuses at what they did.

He should trust them. And his wife.

Maybe his gut instincts had been right on this one.

It was time to take another step on the road to recovery. This one more mental than physical, but progress just the same.

It took more than an hour to do a full consult, trace the area of his leg he wanted to cover, and come up with a plan that would work given the unique situation. The entire time, no one flinched or gasped or—worst of all—sent him pitying stares after looking at the damage. That alone made Dave feel better. Hell, maybe he’d buy a pair of shorts on the way home. It had been years since he’d worn anything but jeans or sweatpants in public.

Thank god the pair he had on today were loose and wide at the bottom or he’d have been sitting around here bare-assed. Not that he minded after living at a naturist resort, but the other customers might not appreciate his lack of modesty.

“Get comfy. This is going to take a while,” the artist said as Dave settled onto the table.

The guy drew on latex gloves that only reminded Dave of the nurses at the hospital and rehab facility. Not what he needed to think about right then. The buzz of the tattoo gun had him shifting in his seat. Kayla reached out, taking his hand in hers.

Funny, since he’d done the same for her during numerous sessions before.

“I’ll draw a line with no ink first, right here in the worst part.” The artist jerked his chin toward the gnarly bit of melted flesh just above Dave’s knee. “If it’s unbearable, let me know. Every scar is different and there’s no shame in telling me if it’s not going to work for you after all.”

Dave nodded. He braced himself, remembering the agony he’d endured in the months after his accident. But when the needle sank into his skin, he hardly noticed. In fact, the sensation paired with the vibration kind of felt good. He squirmed a bit on the table, wondering if he’d be able to hide it if he got hard. Either way, he’d have to be still when it came to the real thing or he’d end up with shaky lines, and no one wanted that.

Kayla leveled a wicked grin at him. Had it turned her on to get her own tattoos? No wonder she loved them so much. It was a rush. Endorphins flooded Dave’s system, helping him make it through the nearly eight-hour session.

“That’s it. We’re done.” The artist evaluated his work as he wiped the area with some kind of glistening goop, cleaning away the last of the ink and blood. “Go take a look in the mirror and then I’m going to snap a few pictures if you don’t mind. I think this might be my favorite piece I’ve ever done.”

Dave looked down at his leg, speechless.

“Do you love it?” Kayla asked.

The artist looked at him too, waiting for his reaction.

They helped him off the table. He flung an arm around Kayla’s shoulders, not afraid to lean on her after sitting still for so long. His leg had stiffened up, but he didn’t even remember to feel self-conscious about that when he spied the artwork hugging his leg in the full-length mirror he stopped in front of.

Dave tried not to turn into a giant pussy right there in the middle of the super-cool shop. There was no stopping the wave of emotions that slammed into him, though. When he saw what they’d transformed his leg into, it told his story so well it felt like it had always been there under the skin and they’d only revealed it to the world.

Dave crushed Kayla to him and sobbed as he took in the illusion of ripping skin that framed the main design. Instead of the typical cyborg bits “revealed” underneath, his tattoo made it look like he was made of wood. Planks nailed together made a base that held up timber for bones and wooden gears formed fabricated joints. The grain patterns secretly formed the names of all his crew members and their wives, artfully disguised in the design.

He hoped the crew realized that it was true. They were the skeleton that had held him up when his own body quit on him. They’d rebuilt him, stronger than before. And they would always be a part of him. Now when he looked at his leg, it made him smile instead of making him cringe.

“It’s incredible. Thank you.” He turned to the artist, who scrubbed away a few tears of his own, and shook the guy’s hand.

He nearly yanked the dude off balance before he realized how much adrenaline still coursed through him.

Then it was Kayla’s turn. She squealed when he lifted her off the floor and kissed the shit out of her, damn anyone watching, right there in the shop. Whistles and catcalls echoed around them when he set her back down.

“When we get home I’m going to thank you properly for my gift. I love it and I love you, Kayla. More every day.”

“I love you too. Now, hurry up. Let’s go.”

He laughed as they held hands and practically sprinted back to the truck.