Unbuckling his seatbelt, he gave me another look still clearly insulted that I had assumed he was getting cosmetic surgery earlier. “I saw their work in a magazine.”

That was all the information he gave me. All right.

We got out of the car and made our way toward the door inscribed with ‘Pins and Needles’ in classy simple font. Kulti reached forward and opened it. In the back of my head, I’d figured the German wouldn’t have chosen some seedy place where you’d probably get crabs if you sat on the toilet, so I wasn’t surprised by how clean and modern-looking the tattoo parlor was. Heavy metal played softly in the background.

A redheaded man was sitting behind the black desk at the front, working on something with a pencil. He looked up when we went in and gave us a friendly smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

When I realized Mr. Non-Congeniality wasn’t saying anything, I smiled back at the man while elbowing Kulti in the arm for being rude. “Good, and you?”

“Great.” He glanced at the German and something like recognition flickered in his gaze, before he set his pencil on the desk. He swiped the computer mouse next to his hand and glanced at the screen before slowly sliding his gaze back to Kulti. “Dex will be out in a minute, if you want to take a seat.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him again and turned back to sit on one of the black leather couches. Kulti stayed standing, walking toward the wall where multiple magazine articles were framed.

Not even thirty seconds later, the sound of boots on the tiled floor didn’t prepare me for the black-haired man who made his way from the back of the business. Tall, broad shouldered and with tattoos that went all the way down to his wrists, I couldn’t help but stare at him.

I’d never been a fan of guys that looked like they’d gone to jail, but you’d have to be blind to not appreciate how good-looking the man was, even if he wasn’t my type.

Because, Jesus Christ.

“He’s wearing a wedding ring,” Kulti’s low voice murmured from right next to me.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t look,” I muttered right back, noticing that yeah, he was wearing a shiny yellow-gold wedding band right above a tattoo of what looked like a letter.

Something came down over my eyes and I realized that the German had pulled his beanie down over my head. “Hold this,” he said, continuing to tug the material down over my nose.

“Hey, man.” A voice that I knew had to belong to the tattooed black-haired guy, sounded closer. The sound of two palms slapping together was right by my head as I rolled the dark green beanie up over my forehead.

Sure enough Kulti and the other guy were right in front of me, shaking hands. The German was only slightly shorter than the man, who was probably just a little younger, but as I took in their differences, Kulti looked down at me and gave me a look that had me smirking. His face was one I was nearly as familiar with as my own, so good-looking and stubborn and proud.

I’d still stare at Kulti over the tattooed guy any day, every day.

“You wanna look at the sketch one more time before we do the transfer?” the tattoo artist asked, taking a step back and not looking down at me once.

“Yes. How long will everything take?”

The dark-haired man shrugged. “Couple hours.”

The German nodded before speaking to me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Schnecke, I’ll pay you to—“

“Shut up and get your tattoo fixed. I’m not taking your money anyway, loser.”

He looked at me for a second and then pulled the flap of his beanie back down over my eyes.

By the time I managed to roll it back up, the wet-dream-worthy men were walking toward one of the work areas behind the front desk. I settled back into my seat, prepared to watch some Netflix on my phone while I waited, when the tattoo artist made his way back to the desk.