“This is Capri,” I said to Rocco. “We talked about her watching you do a small piece the other day.” In two strides, I was next to her again and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into my side.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get set up. My customer should be here any minute. Pull up a chair, muneca.” He nodded to his station and left for the back room to get some supplies.

“Wes,” Capri hissed lowly. “He doesn’t, he’s missing, he lost his—”

“He doesn’t have an arm,” I said laughing at how cute she was not to say the obvious offensively.

“What’s going on?” she asked turning to me so she could look up into my eyes. She was always doing that. Looking right at me and sometimes through me. I’d spent most of my life never being seen at all, and this girl saw me inside and out. She might not know about all she saw, but the way her eyes softened when they looked into mine, I knew she could tell it was there.

“Rocco was in the Marines. Lost his left arm, along with his hearing on the same side, when a roadside bomb hit his vehicle.” Capri gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. I reached behind her and rubbed her back. “When he was medically discharged, he moved back home and apprenticed at his cousin’s shop in La Mesa.”

“He tattoos with one arm?” she asked more in awe than disbelief.

“He does, well, with one arm and a claw. You’ll see it when he comes back out.”

“A claw?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “You’d be surprised how much the ladies like the claw.”

“And you want me to watch him tattoo with his claw,” she stated.

“I do.” I brought my hand that was still on her back around to her hip and squeezed her gently. “I want you to see that even without his arm, he still set out to do what he’d always wanted to do. He’s had to make some adjustments and find his own unique style and way of tattooing, but he did it. Now he’s one of the best artists in San Diego.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding and looking around the shop.

“Okay?” I asked because quite honestly she could have been pissed off. She could have told me to mind my own business and marched her cute little self right out of this joint. She didn’t though because she was my girl, and my girl was awesome.

“Yeah.” She gave me that smile. That she only shared with me. Where her nose crinkled up a bit and her eyes went all wide and bright. “I mean, who am I to complain about being colorblind when he has a claw?”

“Bitches love the claw. You coming, muneca?” Rocco came around the corner to prep his station.

“Be right there,” she called to him and then turned to me. “Thank you,” she said and stood on her toes to place a soft kiss on my lips. I wasn’t having that, though. I caught her in my arms and pressed her lips open with mine. I slid my tongue and kissed my girl how a lady deserved to be kissed because I was a fucking gentleman.

“Why don’t you just piss on her?” I heard Trace’s voice shout at me. I lifted one arm from Capri, wrapping her more tightly with the other, to flip him off and continued to kiss her. “He’s an animal,” Trace howled into the shop.

Capri giggled against my lips and pulled herself away. She smiled at me and turned around toward Rocco’s station, but I caught her hand in mine and pulled her back into me for a quick, but no less dicktastic, kiss. I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Stop maulin’ the girl in my shop,” Blue gruffed. I pulled away this time and gave her a peck on the nose before sending her off to Rocco with a tap on that ass. “Oh, hell,” he groaned shuffling past me. “You’re done for, Marilyn.”

I kept myself busy setting up my own station for my only client of the day. At first, I helicoptered around Capri and Rocco making sure he didn’t cross any lines. After both he and Capri told me to get lost, I’d left to pout in my chair on the other side of the room.

As I watched them over the last half hour, it was obvious that Rocco was all business and attentive to Capri, answering all of her questions. Rocco was usually a silent tattooer, and the fact that he was stepping out of his comfort zone to show my girl how to grab her talent by the balls reminded me of what a good guy he was.

My client today was scheduled for a one-hour session, so this had to be a tiny tat. It would leave me with plenty of time to get Capri out of here. Maybe take her to a nice dinner or for a walk down along the Cove. Shit, listen to myself? Planning dates instead of fucks.

I did want to, though. I did want to fuck her. Maybe I shouldn’t use the word fuck with Capri. It would be more. So much more, like her. She was like the best surprise you thought you never wanted. Like when a stripper jumped out of cake. You’d think you wouldn’t want that, it was too old school, but when it happened? It was amazing. It was a stripper, and it was cake. Maybe I shouldn’t think of strippers while I was thinking about Capri.

Thing was. I’d never wanted this. This enigma that made me want to bare my heart to keep hers. She caught me by the back of the shirt before I even knew she was behind me. No, it definitely wouldn’t be just fucking with her. Maybe more like fucking passionately. I wanted to fuck her passionately after a nice dinner and walk by the water.

“Marilyn. Client’s here.” Blue’s voice shook me from my plans. I looked up and waved over a girl about my age. As she came through the saloon doors, I snuck a peek at Capri, who was watching me with a smirk so I winked at her. Then she rolled her eyes. So I made a heart with my fingers for her because I was a romantic.

I focused back on my customer who approached me sticking a hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Raquel.” She winced a smile at me, but I didn’t take it personal. I’d seen that smile a lot from customers before we get started. Nerves.

“Wes.” I winced myself at the strength in her handshake. “So what is it you were looking to get today?” I asked Raquel.

“I’d like something like this,” she said unfolding a paper she had in her hands. I took the paper and studied it.

“You got it. Where do you want this heart?” I asked reaching for my tape to hang up her image on the wall next to me for a reference.

“On my wrist,” she said rubbing her fingers across one of the most painful spots for a tat. “And, can you like, make it look empty?”

“Empty?” I cocked my head. No comprende.

“Yeah. Like a hole.” Damn. This had a story behind it. I made it my motto to never ask, though. Tattoos could be incredibly personal, and unless they told me, I kept my nosy self out of their business.

“I can do that.” I smiled at her to let her know her empty heart was in good hands. “I’ll shade it, and add some dimension to it, so it looks more like a hole punched into your skin.”

“Yes. Perfect.” She nearly smiled at me.

“Let’s do it,” I said and tapped the chair to let her know it was time to plop down and get to work. I let Raquel know I was about to start, just before I placed the needle on her skin. Her muscles were tight at first, but as I began the outline, she loosened up and handled it like a champ.

“I’m about to start in on the shading so you’ll feel more discomfort,” I told her, wiping the area clean with Bactine. I pushed back to my toolbox to change needles. “Is this your first tattoo?” I asked her.

“It is. I’ve always wanted to get something like this done,” she said tilting her wrist back and forth to check out the lines.

“Gotta say; I’ve done a lot of hearts but never an empty one.” I cringed the second the words bolted from my mouth. “Shit, that came out wrong. What I meant was that this is a nice change of pace. Artistically, I mean. Not nice that your heart is empty.” Oh fuck, someone get me a pail. The word vomit was spewin’. “I mean, not your heart, but this heart, this one on your wrist.” I shook my head and pushed myself back toward her. “Fuck it. Let’s get back to work.” That was when she laughed.