Thorn Tattoo was always busy, but some days were definitely worse than others. Thankfully, today was an easy day. After driving back to the bar to get her car and following Luciano to work, they’d opened together and set up Luciano’s station in the way he preferred. The other artists trickled in slowly through the rest of the morning with no one arriving late. Beyond that, there weren’t any sudden cancellations, irritable customers, or even any supply shortages.

For the first time since Giovanni and Riley’s departure, it felt like the shop was running smoothly.

Melanie didn’t discount the fact that it might have been because she was still wrapped up in her memories of the night before.

Luciano had touched her. And that kiss. She felt her face flush remembering it. It had been everything she’d imagined it would be and more. Firm, commanding, intoxicating. What would have happened if she hadn’t stopped him and they’d gone to bed together. Melanie wasn’t about to pretend she didn’t want him. Every fiber of her being begged her to give in to him and let him continue, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Not when he was drunk. Not when he was still clearly in mourning. Something had happened the day before that had turned his world upside down, but Melanie knew him well enough to see the hurt was still there. It was lessened, and perhaps a little better masked, but it was there.

She had no right to take advantage of him. Consent was important to her, and so was keeping a clear, level head. She loved Luciano’s sense of humor, which fit well with hers, and who he was when he wasn’t mourning Cassandra, but he was still her boss.

It was near the end of the day. The last appointments had arrived long ago, and they were closing their doors to general purchases and piercings. Some of the artists had finished, cleaned up, and gone home. Luciano had just finished up with his last appointment of the day, and she assumed he was in his tattoo bay, cleaning up.

But when Melanie walked by on her way to the office, she heard the buzz of his tattoo machine.

Curious, she stopped and peeked in through the door. Luciano was seated at his desk, pedal moved beneath it, wires clearly leading up to a tattoo machine in his hand. His body was angled in such a way that she couldn’t make him out. They had a few synthetic skins in the shop used for the tattoo workshops Giovanni and Riley hosted when they were in town, but Melanie had no idea why Luciano would be using one of them. He was already a talented tattoo artist—he didn’t need to practice any of his techniques.

“Luc?” she asked uneasily. The buzzing stopped. He looked up from where he sat and flashed her a victorious grin. Melanie’s heart raced, and she stepped through the doors and pressed her back against the concrete partition separating his work area from the rest of the shop. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, just proving you wrong,” he said, cocky. The playfulness was back in his voice, and she was glad to see it.

“How so?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Give me about thirty seconds. You stopped me right at the end.”

If Melanie wanted to, she could have craned her neck or stepped over to see what Luciano was doing. Instead, she decided to prolong the surprise by staying put. He was in a good mood, and she didn’t want to spoil it.

He put his foot back on the pedal, the machine buzzed again, and he went back to work. Less than a minute later, he stopped and set the gun down. He stripped off the black glove he wore.

It was only then that Melanie realized what was so bizarre about what she was seeing—Luciano was left handed, but he was tattooing with his right hand. Soon enough, she understood why.

The knuckles on his right hand were taped with plastic wrap—the same they used to temporarily bandage their clients’ tattoos before they left the shop. Luciano stripped it away and held up his fists, the backs of his hands towards her. Across his knuckles was a word: OVERCOME.

Melanie stared at it for a second. The letters were expertly designed and even the letters on his left hand were executed flawlessly. She didn’t see any inconsistencies in his line work or wobbling letters.

“A knuckle tattoo,” she said, stunned. “I thought you weren’t ever going to get one because Cassandra hated them.”

“That was then, but I’m busy living now, aren’t I?” Luciano lowered his fists and picked up a bottle of green soap sitting in front of him. He carefully cleaned his new tattoos, then wrapped them again as Melanie gawked at him. “So? Are you still so sure I’m as set in my ways as you think I am?”

“I don’t know.” Melanie let her gaze travel across the profile of his face. His beard needed to be trimmed, but after their adventures last night, she knew that she didn’t look exactly composed, either. It was a small blessing she kept an emergency change of clothes in her car, or she would have come back to work wearing the same thing she had on the day before.

For Luciano it was no big deal, but for her? She didn’t want anyone in the shop to suspect anything.

“You don’t know?” Luciano finished wrapping his new ink. “What else do I have to do to prove it to you? I just tattooed myself. I would have thought that meant something.”

“If you’re serious about it, you’ll let me redecorate your house,” Melanie said with some finality. It was a long shot, but if it worked, it’d pay off. Luciano didn’t understand how important furniture was to selling a place. Even if he didn’t want to keep it furnished, he’d have much more generous offers if he redid the interior design. The real estate agent had said as much, and Melanie believed her.

“Really?” Luciano scowled. “You’re really going to be so adamant about it?”

“I don’t think you’re seeing the bigger picture,” Melanie replied.

“And I don’t think you’re seeing the details.”

“I thought I was the best with details.” Melanie winked at him. “It was how you convinced me to take the position as manager, wasn’t it?”

Luciano shook his head and pushed back from his desk. He stood. “And as manager don’t you have closing to get to?”

“Nope. Not all the clients have left yet. I’m running down my list of closing chores, but I’m almost finished. All I have left to do, really, is close the cash.” She wanted to keep challenging him. If he was receptive to change now, she thought she might be able to break him out of his funk at long last. If she could do that, maybe Luciano would see the importance in setting down roots. He had a family who shared all of his interests and wanted to be there for him—she wished he’d see that.

“Well, fuck.” Luciano crossed his arms. “Are you really going to rope me into letting you redecorate the house? I swore I’d never do it.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Melanie said brightly. “I’ll do it for you. I’ve already got all the furniture planned out, and I’ve got a pretty good eye for detail, as you know. All of the little things that will make buyers fall in love with your house. I know them. When you told me you were interested in selling, I started researching. I feel like I have a handle on it.”

Decorating a house was exciting. Melanie had spent her life in the back of her parents’ van while traveling along the coast, or living in tent communes well outside of civilization. She’d dormed at her college, but hadn’t been able to afford any of the things her roommates bought to liven the place up. Even when she’d found an apartment in Las Vegas, she hadn’t had enough cash to decorate it in full. Then she’d sold her belongings to follow Luciano across the United States.

Now she had cash in her savings, access to Luciano’s bank accounts as long as he authorized the spend, and a job that let her go shopping for him, if that was what he wanted her to do.

She’d gladly oversee the transformation. The house was adorable, and with the right furniture, it would be even cuter.

She was going to make it sparkle.

“What’s wrong with using…damn, those people you see on those decorating shows?”

“Stager?”

Snapping his finger, “Yea, that. Why not just use one of those?”

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, Melanie huffed, “What’s the fun in that? Come on, Luc, you said you want to sell the place and while this will have to be cash up front, it’s actually cheaper than using a stager.”

“So, all I have to do is give you my credit card, tell you not to spend more than ten Gs, and let you go wild?” Luciano asked.

“Well, I’m redecorating a whole house,” Melanie said softly. “I’d budgeted for fifteen grand. Is that going to be an issue?”

With a smack of his hand to his face, Luciano shook his head. “Of course you’ve already budgeted it. When do you go into something without a highly detailed plan?”

“Never, if I can avoid it,” Melanie replied truthfully. She kicked her heel against the floor. “So, what do you say?”

“What can I say?” Luciano eyed her. “I don’t think I’m going to have an option either way. If I don’t give in now, you’re going to find some other way to convince me to let you do it, aren’t you?”

Melanie grinned. “Maybe.”

“The shop’s closed tomorrow.” Luciano collected his equipment from his desk and moved it back into place. Piece by piece he started to clean up and get ready to go. “We’ll go out then. Be at my place by eleven.”

Melanie beamed. “I’ll be there.”

The armor Luciano hid behind was weakening. With a little more effort, she was convinced he’d come out of his shell and move on with his life.

After years of mourning, it was time to move on.

Melanie was excited to see the man he’d grow into once he made peace with Cassandra’s death.