Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,23

makes me good at spotting things that are interesting and worthwhile.”

He looked at me pointedly, and I gulped. Trevor was looking at me like I was a prize—and fuck it, it made me feel like one. In his sharp suit and expensive haircut, he seemed to be all he claimed to be. And he was interested in me. The flattery of that was almost more intoxicating than Trevor’s nearness and bold approach.

He leaned in. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m, uh, the DD.” I stumbled for words. “Also, I’m not twenty-one until Thursday.”

“Well, I’ll get one of whatever you’re having now and maybe you’ll let me take you out for a birthday dinner later.”

I swallowed hard. Trevor wasn’t Reagan. He wasn’t covered in tattoos that I wanted to touch or red hair that I wanted to weave my fingers through. He was confident like a shark, whereas Reagan was one hundred percent papa bear. But…

I was tired of spending so much time lusting after a man who kept running from me. I’d done what Reagan had asked, had gone off to college and grown into a better, smarter, more mature person who knew what I wanted. But now I was back and it felt like he hadn’t stopped seeing me as just a kid. Trevor was treating me like a man, and I was tired of being alone and frustrated.

What was the harm in saying yes?

“Okay, sure,” I said. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in.”

Trevor handed it off with a flourish, and I typed away, even taking a shadowed selfie that would pop up on his phone with my number. It felt bold but also scary, like in doing this I was drawing a line in the sand between Reagan and me that I wasn’t sure I wanted there. But Trevor’s attention and flirtations nudged me on. I hit save.

“I’m going to go check on my friends,” I said. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too. And don’t forget—birthday dinner, okay?”

I smiled in response then headed to the dance floor, extra careful of every step. My legs were shaky and my skin itched with fevered excitement. I’d just been hit on by a successful, hot older man. He wasn’t what I’d been looking for or even what I’d wanted, but it still felt like a shot of strong whiskey burning its way through my stomach.

It was just a dinner date. I wasn’t asking him to marry me. It wasn’t like having a boyfriend.

And Reagan...well, he didn’t get to have opinions about who I dated if he wasn’t willing to step up to bat.

I sat at the reception desk at Get Ink’d, slowly eating a piece of my birthday cake. The crew had tried to surprise me when I’d come to work that morning, but at this point, I’d known a party in honor of my birthday was a given—the crew had thrown parties for a lot less, and there was no way they were going to let my birthday go by unremarked.

But just because I’d known it would happen didn’t make it any less special. If anything, it was one more reminder of how Christian and Dane had helped me make a family. One that loved to celebrate me, that cared for me, and that helped give me a place where I belonged. To say I felt lucky was an understatement. I felt...happy. In the truest sense of the word. It wasn’t an emotion that came easily or often.

Trinity had even made an appearance, but she looked so uncomfortably pregnant that I sent her home after she’d had some cake. Her baby would be coming any day now.

It was a slow Thursday afternoon. Things wouldn’t pick up until closer to five when most of our clients got off work and came in for their booked sessions. Mateo was working on a walk-in, and Javi and Dane were doing inventory and orders for the next few months. Bryce had taken the day off, and Reagan was hiding in his office. And I was all alone at my desk, scrolling through my phone and nursing my cake.

The front door pinged and I straightened, tucking my plate into a discreet corner of the desk. However, it wasn’t a customer—it was a delivery man. He came up to me holding a small box. “I have a delivery for a Mr. Channing Halloway.”

“That’s me,” I said, my brow knitted together.

He handed me the box and I signed for it. It was long