What was it with the two of them disappearing at weddings?
It was early evening, and the torches had been lit and fairy twinkle lights had been plugged in. A few couples, including Angie and Horace, were swaying on the dance floor, but most people were happy to talk. Silas was dancing with the girl he’d brought, and she was looking at him with complete infatuation.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Virgil commented, noting where my attention was drawn.
“The cutest,” I agreed.
“Wish I could find a woman,” Virgil grumbled.
“You don’t have that problem,” Roman teased. “You have plenty of women.”
“Awoman. One good one,” Virgil said. “It’s harder to find than I thought.”
“Stop looking,” I suggested. “That’s usually when we sneak up on you guys.”
“I’ve heard that. Too bad I’m probably not going to take your advice.” He grinned. “Ah, there’s our baby sister. I’m gonna go bother her for a bit. Check you later. Awesome cake by the way.”
When Virgil left, Roman looked at me and said, “Seriously, no pressure on choosing who you want to do your ink.”
I liked Virgil. His work on Slash was gorgeous. I didn’t know Homer at all, and he was so grumpy, I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy being in his chair.
“Don’t tell Virgil yet, but when the time comes, I’m choosing you.”
“Why?” he asked. “Not that I’m not appreciative, but why me?”
“You’ve done several of the Old Ladies’ tattoos, and you just… I don’t know. You have an ease about you. I think I’d be comfortable in your chair.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, his tone sincere.
“Appreciate what?” Slash asked as he came up behind me and wrapped me in his arms.
“Roman’s going to do my ink when the time is right,” I said.
Slash cradled my belly with his big hands.
I looked up at him.
“Congrats, you two. You look happy,” Roman said.
“Thanks,” Slash said. “Glad you could come to the wedding.”
Roman tipped his beer at us and then wandered off, leaving us alone.
His gaze softened. “God, woman.”
Slash brushed his lips across mine. I wanted more, but we still had guests and the party didn’t seem to be dissipating anytime soon.
“Don’t say that in that tone,” I warned. “Or we might have to sneak away for a few minutes—and as we learned, you can’t do quickies.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Do I sound like I’m complaining?” I teased.
“We haven’t danced yet,” he said.
I raised my brows. “You dance?”
“No. But I can sway.”