main design wall. Her back was turned and for a second, he let himself just stand there, staring. She’d straightened her hair, that incredible curly mass of hair, and it hung down her back in a smooth, straight banner of deep, dark auburn.
Back when they’d been entertaining the world as Kate and Nate, her hair had been a brighter shade of red. She’d been around fourteen when it had started to darken and the studio hotshots hadn’t liked it. Since they hadn’t liked it, her bitch of a mother hadn’t, either.
Which meant she’d been forced to deal with having her hair dyed, keeping it that carroty shade for the next two years. Then they’d gotten the word that the show was being cancelled.
It had been one of the worst days of his life—at the time.
But he knew it had been one of the best days of hers. Right up until she realized what it meant to her mother.
Because he couldn’t think about Blanche without wanting to spit nails, he made himself cut that line of thought off. “Hey, sugar,” he drawled, watching as she spun around.
The flippy little skirt she had on sent his blood pressure soaring somewhere into the stratosphere and he could feel the oxygen in his brain dwindling away. The nervous smile on her face caught his attention and even as he found himself thinking, Fuck, she’s beautiful, he narrowed his eyes and speculated just what in the hell she was up to.
Abby didn’t show nerves.
She felt them. He knew that.
But she didn’t show them.
“Hey, Zach.”
She glanced down and he followed her gaze, saw that she had the journal he’d picked up for her. “Did you bring that here to beat me up with it or something?”
She laughed. “Well, there is something about an unexpected action . . .” Then she shrugged. “Nah. I actually figured out a plan. It’s a weird one, but I’m here to ask you to help me do one of the things on the list.”
“Okay . . .” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and waited.
“I want a tattoo.”
Zach closed his eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed his right ear and then said, “You want what?”
“A tattoo.” She wiggled the book . “I wrote it down and everything. I did it last night and I’ve thought about it all day and I’m sure I want to do it, so stop looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, okay?”
“You wrote a plan that includes getting a tattoo,” he said slowly. His mind was churning at the very idea of it and his blood was boiling. Putting his hands on her . . . focus on the issue at hand, Barnes! “And you want me to do it.”
“Well . . .” She grinned at him and the dimple in her chin winked at him. “The tattoo part is in the plan. And who else would I ask? You’re my best friend, right?”
He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “You sure about this, sugar?”
“Yes.” She tapped the book against her leg, looking around. “Ah . . . does that mean you’ll do it?”
“Like I’d let anybody else,” he muttered. “Do you know what you want?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought it through that far. I was kind of thinking you could help me figure it out.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and glanced around. The parlor was empty. “When did you want to do this?” He could take some time to think up some designs for her. Take some time to get a grip and—
“Now.”
So much for taking time to get a grip.
“Okay.”
* * *
Bent over the table, she watched as he sketched out another image. Keelie had left, locking up the front door and lowering the blinds. Zach seemed completely focused on the task at hand. “You got any idea where you want to put this?” he asked.
“Ah . . . well, I was thinking that I’d rather have one that doesn’t really show. It’s for me, not anybody else.” She scooted back from the desk and went over to the design wall, studying some of the pictures. The back of her shoulder seemed innocuous enough, but this was something she was doing for herself. Not to show off and she wanted it personal. Completely personal. She saw one woman’s picture—the woman was pretty damn clearly showing off—she was sexy as hell, Abigale had to admit, but did she really have to have her jeans open like that?