“She’d love to,” Little Sister replied. “She hasn’t been on a date in eight million?—”
“Jury …” Imogen’s tone was quiet but carried all the meaning in the world.
“Yeah, so she says yes,” Little Sister finished.
He met Imogen’s brown eyes. “I’d rather hear it from you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“About what?”
“Why such a beautiful woman hasn’t had a date in eight million …” He trailed off.
He figured she’d turn him down, and it wouldn’t be a big deal if she did.
But when she opened her full pink lips and said, “Okay,” he was shocked.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. Where at?”
“I can meet you.”
“I was raised better than that. I’ll pick you up.”
“NOPSI Hotel.”
“Perfect. I’ll get you at seven.”
She breathed deep, and he wondered if she was questioning what she’d done.
“Now, about that ink. Don’t get a stupid tattoo. It’s way worse than none at all.”
Her lips opened into an O.
“Jury really wants memorial tattoos. For our sister.”
He nodded. “I get it. But let me draw something. We’ll talk about it at dinner. Cool?”
Little Sister’s twin brown eyes were sparkling. “Super cool,” she replied.
Nic took it as assent from both of them. “I’ll walk you out to your car. Can’t be too careful around here. Even this time of day.”
Jerome shot him a look that told him he was acting out of character as he ushered them toward the door.
Yeah, dude. That’s what a hot ginger will do to you.
He didn’t do memorial tattoos for walk-ins. He was booked two years out on big pieces of stunning artwork. If he opened his books further, he’d be booked even further, which he did not want. Two years was far enough.
“So, Nic, you own that badass house in the Quarter, right? Fancy,” Jury said.
“Inherited it.”
“Ahhh. Who’s the sexy lion guy?”
Nic coughed as they hit the crosswalk. “Lion guy?”
“You know him, clearly. He was at your house last night.”