have bet on flowers. She moved the five-needled machine over his shoulder, and he found himself swallowing, hard. Gael never was one to fear pain. Hell, being the only boy meant all his sisters had never felt the need to pull their punches. And they could hit.
“Anyway, are you worried about the pain?” There was a teasing light in her eyes.
“No,” he said. He’d been in enough fights growing up that he knew how to take a punch. And how to land one.
Mags laughed. “You should be,” she warned, looking a little like she could be a member of some crime syndicate wielding her tattoo needles as a weapon. And then she kicked on the machine and a loud, buzzing hum like a swarm of bees filled the room. He had no more opportunity to protest the lack of an outline before she had pressed the multiple vibrating needles against his skin. He felt the tickle and then the sting of the needles piercing his flesh. He glanced over at Mags, whose face was now inches from his, and noticed her slight frown of concentration. She was completely and totally focused on the line she drew on his arm. She suddenly looked strikingly beautiful in that moment of total concentration. He admired the intensity with which she studied his arm. Suddenly, he trusted her in the zone, even as she worked permanent ink into his skin. She worked a little more and then swabbed his shoulder.
“You doing okay?” she asked him.
“Fine,” he said, even as he felt his skin burn.
“Good. It only gets worse.” There was laughter in her voice, as if she was enjoying this. Reminded him a smidgen of Kathleen.
He watched as a blue streak of hair fell into her face.
“You’re trying to scare me on purpose,” he offered, hoping that was true.
“Why? Do you scare easily?” She lifted the needle and met his gaze, her brown eyes with just a hint of a teasing light in them. Hell, she kept that up, he might get the impression she was flirting with him.
“No.” He meant it. She raised a slender brown eyebrow.
“Is that a challenge?” The tattoo tool buzzed even louder in her hand.
“So, did you become a tattoo artist because you’re a sadist?” He was only half joking, but she laughed out loud, a full, bright laugh. It didn’t seem to match the surly expression she tried to wear most of the time. Of course, neither did that delicate chin, the sharp eyes lined with dark, dark kohl. She was a bundle of contradictions, Mags McHenry. She concentrated and the tiniest of lines appeared between her brows, but otherwise, her skin was perfectly smooth. She was gorgeous, even if she liked metal bands like the one emblazoned on her T-shirt. Maybe even because she liked metal bands.
“No, that’s just a bonus.” She shook her head as she focused again on his shoulder. “I’ve always loved to draw. But opening a tattoo shop was easier than getting a gallery show.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Besides, I kind of like the idea of art that evolves. This bird that I put on you will go with you, live with you, see what you see. It’s personal art, and only the people you want to see it, will.”
“Interesting. Ava needs this, anyway. She and my sisters are all the family I’ve got.”
“What happened to your parents?” Mags asked without looking up from his shoulder.
“Mom and Dad died in a car accident when I was twenty-one.”
She hissed. “You just the king of bad luck or what?”
“You make your own luck,” he said, believing it. “Everybody’s got something. It’s all about how you deal with it.”
“Now you’re making me feel sorry for you.” Mags shook her head slowly.
“Good. Maybe you’ll go easy on me.”
Her eyes met his for a brief moment. “Maybe.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
She grew quiet once more. He was acutely aware of the needles poking into his skin. He glanced down at her work but could only see a few dark lines and a smear of blood as she wiped at his skin. He couldn’t make out a form, if there was one to see, and looking only made him more nervous. He was at her mercy. She could write idiot on his arm and he’d be stuck with it.
“So, who’s Clint?” he asked, unable to keep it in any longer. He’d overheard the entire exchange with the big guy. “Boyfriend?”
Mags snorted. “No.”
“Somebody you