“No, not really,” I said, watching him walk to the bathroom.
“I’ll be out in five.”
I stretched, letting all of my limbs spread in every direction on the bed, and then I sat up, combing my hair out with my fingers. The toilet flushed, and then the faucet turned on. He wasn’t kidding. He would be ready in a few minutes and I was still naked in bed.
Fitting my dress and his suit in the carry-on proved to be a challenge, but I finally made it work. Travis emerged from the bathroom and brushed his fingers across mine as we passed.
Teeth brushed, hair combed, I changed and we were checking out by eleven.
Travis took pictures of the lobby ceiling with his phone, and then we took one last look around before leaving for the long taxi line. Even in the shade it was hot, and my legs were already sticking to my jeans.
My phone buzzed in my purse. I checked it quickly. mobilism.org
Cops just left. Dad’s @ Tim’s but I told them you guys were in Vegas getting married. I think they f**king bought it.
Srsly?
Yeah! I should get an Oscar for that shit. JS
I breathed a long sigh of relief.
“Who’s that?” Travis asked.
“America,” I said, letting the phone slip back into my purse. “She’s pissed.”
He smiled. “I bet.”
“Where to? The airport?” Travis asked, holding his hand out for mine.
I took it, turning it enough so that I could see my nickname on his wrist. “No, I’m thinking we need to make a pit stop first.”
One of his eyebrows pulled up. “To where?”
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER TEN
Inked
Abby
“What do you mean?” Travis said, blanching. “We’re not here for me?”
The tattoo artist stared at us both, a little surprised at Travis’s surprise.
The entire taxi ride over, Travis assumed I was buying him a new tattoo as a wedding present. When I told the driver our destination, it never occurred to Travis that I would be the one getting inked. He talked about tattooing ABBY somewhere on him, but since he already had PIGEON on his wrist, I thought it would be redundant.
“It’s my turn,” I said, turning to the tattoo artist. “What’s your name?”
“Griffin,” he said in a monotone.
“Of course,” I said. “I want MRS. MADDOX here.” I touched my finger to my jeans on the right side of my lower abdomen, just low enough not to be seen, even in a bikini. I wanted Travis to be the only one privy to my ink, a nice surprise every time he undressed me.
Travis beamed. “Mrs. Maddox?”
“Yes, in this font,” I said, pointing to a laminated poster on the wall featuring sample tattoos.
Travis smiled. “That fits you. It’s elegant, but not fussy.”
“Exactly. Can you do that?”
“I can. It’ll be about an hour. We have a couple people ahead of you. It’ll be two fifty.”
“Two fifty? For a few scribbles?” Travis said, his mouth falling open. “What the f**k, chuck?”
“It’s Griffin,” he said, unaffected.
“I know, but—”
“It’s okay, baby,” I said. “Everything is more in Vegas.”
“Let’s just wait until we get home, Pidge.”
“Pidge?” Griffin said.
Travis sent him a death glare. “Shut up,” he warned, looking back at me. “This’ll be two hundred bucks cheaper back home.”
“If I wait, I won’t do it.”
Griffin shrugged. “Then maybe you should wait.”
I glared at Travis and Griffin. “I’m not waiting. I’m doing this.” I pulled out my wallet and shoved three bills at Griffin. “So you take my money”—I frowned at Travis—“and you hush. It’s my money, my body, and this is what I want to do.”
Travis seemed to weigh what he was about to say. “But . . . it’s going to hurt.”
I smiled. “Me? Or you?”
“Both.”
Griffin took my money and then disappeared. Travis paced the floor like a nervous expectant father. He peeked down the hall, and then paced some more. It was as cute as it was annoying. At one point he begged me not to do it, and then became impressed and touched that I was so hell-bent on going through with it.
“Pull down your jeans,” Griffin said, getting his equipment ready.
Travis shot a piercing look at the short, muscular man from under his brow, but Griffin was too busy to notice Travis’s most frightening expression.
I sat on the chair, and Griffin pushed buttons. As the chair reclined, Travis sat on a stool on the other side of me. He was fidgeting.
“Trav,” I said in a soft voice. “Sit down.” I held out my hand and he took it, also taking a seat. He kissed my fingers, and offered a sweet but nervous smile.
Just when I thought he couldn’t take the waiting anymore, my cell phone buzzed in my purse.
Oh, God. What if it was a text message from Trent? Travis was already digging for it, grateful for the distraction.
“Leave it, Trav.”
He looked at the display and frowned. My breath caught. He held out the phone for me to take. “It’s Mare.”
I grabbed it from him and would’ve felt relief if it weren’t for the cold cotton swab running over my hip bone. “Hello?”
“Abby?” America said. “Where are you? Shepley and I just got home. The car is gone.”