shook his head. “No, I have more sense.”
“He’s too tall to ride bulls,” George said. “He’s a calf roper.” He glanced at the arm. “Or was.”
“I can still whip you with one arm tied behind my back.”
She somehow refrained from rolling her eyes at this typical male posturing. Honestly, was she supposed to be impressed? Better keep her mind on business. “Do you know what you want for your tat?” she asked George.
“I want a big lizard.” He pointed to his forearm. “Right here.”
“A lizard?”
He nodded. “’Cause that’s my handle on the circuit. George ‘the Lizard’ Lizardi.”
“Okay.” She led him to a thick binder on a stand by the counter and flipped through it until she came to the reptile section. “You ought to find something here.”
Scott emerged from the back room with two mugs of coffee. “Y’all want coffee?” he asked.
“That’d be nice,” Kyle said.
“None for me,” George said. “I’m jumpy enough.”
“George is a little nervous about needles,” Kyle said.
Theresa nodded. “He’ll be fine once we get started. For most people the anticipation of getting a tattoo is a lot more uncomfortable than the tat itself.”
“What’s your name?”
The question was a reasonable one, but it still caught her off guard. She started to ask him why he was interested, then thought better of it. He was a customer, or at least a buddy of a customer, so she ought to be polite. “Theresa Jacobs,” she said. “And you’re Kyle.”
“Kyle Cameron.” He offered his good hand. “Pleased to meet you, Theresa.”
His hand was warm, his grasp firm but not painful, calluses scraping against her palm. A masculine hand, telegraphing strength and confidence. Her heart fluttered again, and she jerked away and fussed with the supplies on the cart, though her skin still tingled from his touch.
Scott returned with another mug of coffee, followed by Mick and Delilah. True to her name, Delilah zeroed in on the handsome cowboy and began rubbing against his boots, purring loudly.
Kyle regarded the cat with a half smile. “Cute cat.”
“She’s all right.” She nudged Delilah away with the toe of her boot, then moved to a supply cart and began laying out the materials she’d need for the tattoo—sealed packets of needles, fresh ink caps, gauze, sterile wipes, A & D ointment and the tattoo machine, still in its sealed packet from the autoclave.
“I’ve never been around cats much.” He followed her and leaned back against the workbench. “My sister has them.”
“These were my brother’s until he moved to Chicago.”
“What’s he doing in Chicago?”
“Going to school.” And falling even more madly in love with Jen Truitt. The thought still amazed her—her tough-stuff big brother all mushy in love with the police chief’s daughter. Who would have thought?
“I found the one I want.” George pointed to a page in the binder.
Theresa walked over and studied the drawing of a snarling monitor lizard. One of Zach’s designs. “All right. Have a seat in the chair and we’ll get started.”
Looking a little apprehensive, George stretched out in the chair. “You want me to hold your hand?” Kyle asked.
“Only if you want me to break the other arm.”
While she prepped George, Kyle settled on a stool across from them. “So what’s with the chapel meeting outside?” he asked.
She swabbed the freshly shaved section of George’s arm with disinfectant and positioned the tattoo transfer. “The Clean Up Austin campaign? Haven’t you heard of them?”
He shook his head. “Until I hurt my arm I was riding the circuit, trying to earn enough points to make the national finals.”
She began filling ink caps from larger bottles on the stand beside her. “This guy, Darryl ‘Clean’ Carter, is running for Austin City Council. His campaign platform is that he intends to make Austin—and particularly Sixth Street—more family friendly, which means no tattoo parlors, strip joints, sex-toy stores or loud rock-and-roll bars. Only nice, staid restaurants, suitably quiet taverns and fun for the whole family.” She rolled her eyes and unwrapped a fresh tattoo needle. “I think it’s ridiculous, but they’ve been out there every morning for the past two weeks.” She switched on the tattoo machine. “You ready, George?”
“Uh, yeah.” He blanched. “Sure.”
“Don’t worry, pard. When you pass out from the pain, I’ll help revive you.” Kyle winked at Theresa, who steadfastly ignored the way this made her stomach quiver and concentrated on the tattoo.
George made a gurgling sound in his throat when the needle first made contact. She kept a firm grip on his arm and continued working. “Take a deep breath. Relax. Focus on something else to distract you.”
Predictably his gaze zeroed in on her chest once more. “Th-that’s a real interesting tattoo,” he said. “Who did it?”
“My brother.”
“He’s a tattoo artist, too?” Kyle asked.
“He’s the one who taught me.”
“I was wondering how a pretty girl like you would get into something like this,” George said.
“Right.” She switched colors and began outlining the lizard’s eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a pretty good job to me,” Kyle said. “Good hours. You’re pretty much your own boss.” He grinned. “And a chance to inflict pain on ugly SOBs like the Lizard here.”
“Don’t give her any ideas,” George protested.
As she worked, she could feel Kyle’s eyes on her. His stare wasn’t the rude ogling of some men but rather the studious gaze of someone who was trying to figure her out. Ogling, she could deal with—she didn’t much care for this kind of close scrutiny. “Do you mind?” she said, glaring at him.
“Mind what?”
“You’re staring.”
“No, I’m watching you.”
“Well, stop it.”
“You interest me.”
“Well, cowboys don’t interest me, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Darlin’, I’ve had ideas about you since
