“Sounds good.”
She returned my smile at last, and I noticed a cute little dimple piercing her left cheek. “I need to make the stencil.”
Quickly she took a carbon and removed the brown protective layer, then just as fast, she traced the sketch she’d made on top of the papers. In two moves, she’d pulled it out and applied it to my skin. As she leaned over me, I caught a light scent of sugary perfume, and again my stomach tightened.
“You shouldn’t tell anyone you’ve only been doing this six months,” I said.
The dimple was back, and her cool blue eyes met mine as she pulled on black gloves and screwed the ink onto the gun. “Do I look like a professional?”
“Yes.”
She took out a sterile pad, cleaned my skin, and got to work. Her gaze was steady, and it only stung a little as she quickly made a stroke, followed by a quick wipe. Stroke, wipe, stroke, wipe. The repetition continued as the braided design took shape and my past disappeared.
“Does it distract you if I talk?” I said, watching her.
She only paused a beat to smile up at me, shake her head, and then blink back down to my arm.
“Were you planning to be a tattoo artist when you finished school?”
Dimple. “No, but I like the work. Carl’s a good boss.”
“But no ink for you?”
“Oh, I have a tattoo. A couple, actually.”
I immediately wanted to see them. “Are they hidden?”
She did a final swipe and put the gun down. “The first one’s here.” Pulling the latex glove down half-way, she opened her palm, and I saw a small teardrop in the center. My thoughts derailed at the sight of it and what I knew to be the meaning.
Now my brows pulled together as I studied her face. Despite the heavy, cat-eye liner and deep red lips, I didn’t see it. She seemed too young and innocent to have a teardrop tattooed in her hand. So I played dumb.
“Does that have a meaning?”
Restoring the glove, she barely nodded and resumed her work. The original guard was back in place, and now her expression contained a new emotion—sadness.
“You said Carl hired you after.” My voice was low. “After what?”
Another stroke, another swipe, before she answered. “After college. What else?” This time the smile was fake, no dimple.
I nodded and dropped it. To my knowledge, Derek hadn’t called before I came, so she didn’t know what I did for a living. “Your name’s Kenny?”
Her eyes briefly met mine, then she nodded.
“Is that short for something?”
“Kendra.”
“Kendra…?”
“Woods.” She paused before turning my arm to finish the other side. “What do you think?”
“I think it looks really good.” A slight pink puffiness was around the woven lines, but her work was clean. “And I like that it’s original art.”
That brought back the dimple. “I’ll call it ‘Removal of Long-Story Stacy.’”
“Would you go out with me?”
What the hell? I’d said it without even thinking. At the same time, it made a lot better sense for me to be with her than with Nikki.