Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,45
then. At least, before he remarried and moved halfway across the country. She pushed those thoughts away. No use dwelling on them now.
“We getting some sass in here?” This was from Maeve, who’d poked her head in and overheard the last bit. “If you want my opinion, no tattoos until you’re twenty-one.”
“Not you, too.” Ava crossed her arms across her chest in protest.
“Look, I’m just trying to save you from this.” Maeve pulled up her left scrub pant and showed Ava a small tattoo just above her left ankle. It was of Scooby-Doo.
Gael let out a frustrated breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Not the Doo.”
“I was a little bit of a jerk after our parents died,” Maeve explained. “Might have gone through a rebel phase.”
Mags understood that. She was still in one.
“I was seventeen and wanted to shock this guy.”
“Oh, you shocked me all right.” Gael shook his head.
“He lost it. Grounded me for a month.”
Ava giggled a little. “But I’m not getting Scooby-Doo.”
“I think she means that whatever you get you might outgrow,” Gael added, giving Maeve a little nod of thanks. Maeve let her pant leg fall down, covering the tattoo once more.
“I can’t even wear shorts without people commenting on it.” Maeve shook her head. “So best not to get a tattoo until you really know what you want.”
“She’s right,” Mags added. “I get plenty of people who ask me to alter old tattoos. And then there are the people who need to get their exes marked out. That happens a lot.”
“Think you could do anything about the Doo down there?” Maeve asked her, pulling up her pant leg once more. Mags gave it a quick look.
“Maybe,” she said, studying the lines of the tattoo. “I might be able to turn it into something, but it would have to be much bigger than what you have there. Come on by the shop sometime, though, and I could sketch something on you. Give you an idea of what it might be.”
“I knew I liked you,” Maeve said, beaming. Then she cut a look to Gael. “You better be nice to this one.”
“That’s what I said!” Ava cried.
“Do your sisters always boss you around so much?” Mags asked.
“Yes!” Ava and Maeve both replied.
“And we’re not even as bad as Kathleen,” Maeve added.
Mags had to laugh. It was all so...adorable. Sweet, even. These women cared about Gael. Wanted to see him happy. Made her feel like she wanted to be one of them. Sign her up for Team Gael.
“Well, hate to break up the party...” Maeve trailed off, glancing at the white clock hanging on the wall above the TV. “But it’s that time. Miss Ava needs her sleep. She’s got a big day tomorrow.”
“I can stay,” Gael said quickly, reaching for Ava’s hand. Protectively. “I can wheel in one of those reclining chairs. Sleep here with you.”
Mags got the idea it wouldn’t be the first time.
“No!” Ava insisted, voice loud. “You need to take Mags home. Maybe stop and get a drink on the way there. One of us needs to have a little fun.”
“Ava. I don’t have to—”
“No buts!” Ava held up one finger, green eyes blazing.
“Oh, you’re getting the finger wag now,” Maeve teased. “You know that nobody wins against the finger wag.”
Gael hesitated. “You sure?”
“Positive! I will be furious if you spend the night here. And you know I should be calm before the big event. Now get out!” Ava pointed to the door. Still, a huge grin lit her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, big brother.”
Gael leaned in to give her a hug. “I’ll be here bright and early.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAGS SAT IN the passenger seat of Gael’s expensive car as he drove through the darkened streets of Chicago. She felt strangely comfortable when he reached out and took her hand. He brought her wrist to his lips and kissed the inside of it. A little jolt of sensation went up the length of her arm. She wondered how his lips had that kind of power over her and then remembered how they’d felt all over her body. A shiver ran through her.
“Thank you for coming to the hospital. I think it meant a lot to Ava.”
“I don’t know about that. I think I might have gotten her hopes up for a tattoo.”
Gael chuckled, meeting her stare across the gearshift. “Don’t worry. She’s always wanted one, anyway. And it’s not that much longer until she’s eighteen.”
“I don’t meant to stir