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CHAPTER ONE

Abby

“I’m nineteen Mom. Not a child anymore,” I remind her, trying not to sound like the child she thinks I am.

She rarely says yes to anything. But this time she’s really put her foot down.

She creases the side of her mouth and sighs to herself as she tries not to let her emotions show and fails.

We don’t argue very often, and especially not in front of guests. Most of the time I let things go because I don’t want to be a burden to my mom. And as a single parent I know it's hard for her, but this is important to me.

“Tasha? Try and talk some sense into your best friend, will you please?” she finally asks my best friend before gently closing my bedroom door.

Ignoring me. The silent treatment.

And this is the way it will be until I let the idea of getting a tattoo go.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea… It’s crazy… Kids,” I can hear her murmur to herself as she makes her way back down the hall.

Tasha makes a face as soon as we’re alone, which cuts through my residual anger. I struggle not to laugh as she twists and contorts her pretty face into something so hilarious we both laugh like maniacs.

“She’s probably right though, and you shouldn’t be so hard on your mom,” Tasha says once we settle down, getting some breath back.

I feel my eyes narrow before I roll them towards the ceiling.

“I knew you’d take her side,” I huff, playfully tossing a pillow at Tasha’s head from where I’m sitting on the end of my bed.

“Hey, watch the nails,” she cries, nursing her freshly polished toes.

Her fingernails and then mine next are the plans for our afternoon.

“It’s not that I’m taking sides either,” Tasha reasons, looking suddenly very serious. “It’s just, I dunno. Tatts are kinda gross. Lame. Everyone’s covered in them these days and it’s just boring,” she says, screwing her nose up for real this time.

I’m a little, okay, a lot taken aback by her reaction. And her attitude.

Of all the people in the world, I thought my bestie Tasha would be on board with my tattoo idea more than anyone.

Including myself.

Tasha always sticks up for me.

But she’s always stuck up for my mom too. Maybe because she never knew her mother growing up.

To balance that, I never knew my dad.

But Tasha does have one of those.

And although I’ve never kept anything from Tasha, the one thing she doesn’t know is just how big a crush I have on her dad.

Ever since I can remember.

And ever since I connected that crush to my own needs once I hit adulthood… Well, it’s become a kind of obsession for me.

If I’m completely honest with myself, Tasha’s dad, Slade, is the real reason I want the tattoo in the first place.

And yep, you guessed it. He’s the local tattoo artist.

Amongst other things.

Like motorcycle mechanic, artist, single dad of the century.

Oh, and the hottest man alive.

Did I mention that?

If anyone in town is gonna get a proper tattoo done, Slade’s Studio is the place to get it done. And he’s the best man for the job even though he does have a few employees now to do most of the work.

But I want it to be Tasha’s dad to do me.

To ink me I mean.

Tasha’s cell chimes and her face lights up even before she looks at it.

I stifle a groan only because I know who it is, at least I think I know who it is.

Brad.

Her on-again, off-again boyfriend.

The only wedge that’s ever come between me and my best friend.

And maybe a certain secret crush, but what Tasha doesn’t know can’t hurt her, can it?

I almost roll my eyes out of habit again, but I’m brought swiftly to attention when I hear the unmistakable deep, smoky voice from her phone.

It’s her dad.

“Oh. Hi Dad, I’ll put you on speaker. Doin’ ma nails…” Tasha drones without much interest, looking disappointed it’s not her beau, Brad.

If I had her dad, Slade, calling me, I’d be a little more interested. Even listening in, I fight to contain my excitement.

Shifting in my seat on my mattress.

The thought of her dad having an interest in me has a direct effect on my core.

“Just calling to make sure you hadn’t forgotten,” her dad says. His deep voice travels straight through the phone and to my pleasure center.

The rumble of motorbikes in the background is drowned out by his voice.

Does he even know the effect he has on people just by existing or is it just me?

“Forget what?” Tasha frowns, looking at me with a shrug, not even faking her forgetfulness. I love my bestie but she can be mighty forgetful. One time she left me stranded at the movies for hours because she forgot we’d made plans the day prior.


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