Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Gene…he’s a good man. He loved your grandma a lot.” His gaze darted away. “I’m sorry for your loss. I should have said that earlier. She was a great woman. Treated me real good. We’d sit around and talk for hours sometimes. I gave Wilma her one and only tattoo.”
My eyes bugged out. “Wilma Allen had a tattoo?”
“Yep. It was two pink tulips.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I finally managed to whisper, “That’s my mom’s favorite flower.”
“I’m sure she got them for the two of you, then.”
Maybe she had. I hated that I would never know. I hated that I didn’t know why she hadn’t raised Mom or if they could have had a relationship. I felt…a little empty, hollowed out. Like there was a Wilma Allen-shaped hole inside me I hadn’t known was there until just this moment.
“I also have to check into my hotel. And find a ride.”
Unlike many others, Tattoo Guy didn’t stumble to keep up with me and my random subject changes. He just gave me a simple nod. “I’ll leave you to it, then. You know where to find me.”
He watched me for a moment, then gave me another of his smiles and headed next door.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gideon
Milo definitely wasn’t a dick. I couldn’t say what word I would use to describe him, but I’d been working on a tattoo for the past couple of hours since our chat, and I was still thinking about him. I was still smiling while doing it too. That had never happened to me before, but I had a feeling that Milo had that effect on a lot of people.
It took me another hour to finish up the ink—a skull with fire. We talked as I worked, but my thoughts were next door. I didn’t know anything about Milo. Townsfolk knew his mom, of course. She’d left at eighteen when her parents had died and had never come back. Then Wilma had passed away, and it came out that she had a biological daughter—Milo’s mom. Wilma hadn’t talked about her to me or to anyone else that I’d heard.
Was Milo going to keep the store? With all those bags, it looked like he planned to stay, but maybe it was only for a few months and he’d sell? Or maybe he’d want to put something else on this side of the building, and I’d lose my shop. I dreaded that possibility. But then…
“You’re very attractive.”
That definitely wasn’t what I should be thinking about.
“What are you smiling at?” asked Mario, the guy I was inking.
“My handiwork,” I replied, even though it had been the memory of Milo’s confession. I sure as shit hadn’t seen that coming, but was pleasantly surprised by it.
I was also wondering what he was doing and how he’d get a ride to the hotel with all those bags. And maybe I was a little intrigued by the guy, so kill me. There was something really fucking interesting about him. So when Mario was out, I told Freddy goodbye and headed next door. For all I knew, he wasn’t even there anymore, but there was no way I couldn’t try. He felt new in a way nothing around Little Beach ever did, or hell, maybe nothing in my life did at all. It was just my luck I’d get this experience from the guy who had the means to take my livelihood away from me.
Typical day in the life of Gideon Barlow.
I peeked through the glass, and I could see Milo there. His bags were by the door, and he was pacing up and down the front aisle. His arms and hands were moving all around. He was on the phone, and…oh yeah, he definitely wasn’t happy. It looked like whoever was on the other end of the line was getting an earful.
I wasn’t sure if I should go in, but what if it was something I could help with?
I knocked lightly on the glass before opening the door just enough to stick my head in.
“I’m a twenty-four-year-old adult and—” Milo’s gaze snapped toward me, locking on mine just as his foot caught on the edge of a rug, and he tripped, stumbling forward slightly. I tried to push the door out of the way to get in and catch him, but I was too far, and besides, he didn’t need it. He righted himself, straightened his shirt as if it had been messy, and said, “Tattoo Guy is here. I have to go.” I could hear the other person speaking when Milo ended the call.
“Moms, huh?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets, a nervous gesture, which was weird as fuck. What did I have to be nervous about?
“How did you know that’s who I was talking to?”
“Because I have one myself. They’re great. No one will love you more, but sometimes they can be…”