Dad’s just in the back, give him a minute and he’ll be out to help you.” She waved again before returning her attention to the couple. A small and compact Indian man came out from the curtained off area behind the counter. “Mr. Preacher, it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Samar.”
He shook the older man’s hand. He towered over the jeweler and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but he wasn’t fooled by the man’s slight stature or his age. Samar was an expert in jiu jitsu, and Preacher had seen him take down men twice his size at the local sparring gym.
“How can I help you today?” Samar asked.
He fished the barbell out of his pocket and held it out to the jeweller. “I was wondering if I could get this engraved.”
“Of course, of course.” Samar took the barbell from him and Preacher followed him to the front counter. “What do you want engraved on it?”
“Initials on either end of the barbell. SW on each, please.”
“Do you want a script font or something thicker and bolder?” Samar asked. “With the small area, I would suggest you skip the script. It’ll be more difficult to read.”
“Plain lettering is good,” he said. He wanted the next guy Addison Moore slept with, to know exactly what the initials said.
One – no one in this town but Gideon knows your real name so it doesn’t matter if they know it’s an S and a W or not, and two, you really want someone who isn’t you, looking at her tits?
No, he fucking didn’t, and the intensity of his feelings on the subject was a little alarming.
So, you think putting a barbell in her nipple with your initials engraved on it, like you’re branding her as yours or some happy horseshit like that, is gonna stop her from fucking another guy? Is that it?
Of course not. She wouldn’t have a clue what the SW stood for. Hell, she might not even notice the initials.
Then why the fuck are you doing this?
The hell of it was, he didn’t know why. But the second he found out she was getting a piercing, the urge to have his initials engraved on her barbell was too fucking great to ignore.
“I need it by six at the latest,” he said to Samar. “Is that doable?”
“For you? Of course,” Samar said. “I’ll ask Diya to drop it off at your shop when it’s finished.”
“Great, thank you.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for the engraving before leaving the store and heading to Nan’s Diner. He didn’t have to put that barbell in Addison, he reasoned. Maybe by the time she arrived for her appointment, some of his sanity would have returned and he’d keep the marked barbell the fuck out of her nipple.
Maybe.
Chapter Ten
Addison glanced at the clock on the wall of the tattoo shop. It was ten after seven and she’d been sitting on the couch in the seating area since six thirty, her nerves fraying like cheap yarn, and her resolve to pierce her nipple weakening by the minute.
She’d borrowed her brother Daniel’s car to drive here. The weather was too friggin’ hot to walk. She’d snagged a spot right outside the shop and she glanced at the car through the big front window behind her, tempted to just jump up and run out of the shop.
The two young women sitting on the couch beside her were on their phones, taking selfies, texting, and talking in high pitched giggles about some guy named Doug who may or may not have a large penis.
She tuned them out, staring at the curtain drawn around the station farthest from her before her gaze drifted to the tattoo bed in the first tattoo station. That was the tattoo bed Preacher had bent her over and –
“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Nolan said from his spot behind the counter. “Preacher’s just finishing up his last tattoo. Don’t know why it’s taking so long.”
“We know,” the girls beside her said in unison before breaking out into high pitch giggles that made Addison want to throw a tattoo binder at them.
The girl closest to her on the couch grinned at her. “Our friend is getting tattooed by him, and she’s, like, got a total crush on him. They’re probably, like, making out behind the curtain right now.”
“I can hear the tattoo gun,” Addison said.
The girl blinked at her. “Oh, right. Well, whatever. Bethany wants him and what