12/3/2023 0 Comments Deer skull drawing“He already booked you an appointment following his.” He ducks into the bathroom, and I glance at Saint.īut Saint just smiles faintly. He started smiling when the tattoo began, and now it widens into a full-on grin. Steele rises and checks it out in the mirror. He had Steele change positions a few times, since it wraps all the way around his forearm, and now he cleans all of it. But the longer I watch, the more I think I want one of my own.įive hours-and a few breaks-later, and Saint wipes down the tattoo for the last time. The hum of the tattoo machine is almost kind of lulling-especially since it’s not going in my skin. To be fair, it’s kind of surreal to see an artist like Saint Hart do his thing. I shake my head, drawing my legs up onto the chair. Your venom went right to my heart.” He catches my hand and brings it to his lips. I shake my head and sit beside him while Saint prepares his tattoo machine and ink. Even though the placement of the tattoo is better than what I expected, it takes me a minute to work out what it is.Ī snake, winding down and ending with its teeth sunk into Steele’s wrist. For no other reason than it’s a nice place to trace with my lips, and I love the morbidity of it. He has more, of course, but the deer skull is my favorite. His other arm is covered in tattoos that I love to run my fingers over. With that thought in mind, I hurry into the room-and relax when I see the purple stencil on Steele’s forearm. Except, I wouldn’t put it past him to get a snake tattooed on his snake. “Then you’re shit out of luck on getting laid this trip, huh?” I snort, keeping my gaze on the wall of art. “Do you want to see the stencil?” Steele calls. I can see why magazines would be interested in featuring it-and his work, hung in gold picture frames set against the dark paint. There’s a white couch with a low coffee table in front of it, and a spread of magazines that feature Starlight.Īll in all, the vibe of this place is cool. But then I decide that maybe I’m better off not knowing, and I head back into the front lobby area. Positioned so I can definitely see what sort of madness Steele has come up with. Steele sits where Saint directs him, and I take one of the chairs off to the side. Why would he hesitate? He’s covered in tattoos. And he follows the tattoo artist back into his studio without hesitation. I narrow my eyes at him, but he seems unbothered. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” “Saint Hart,” he introduces, shaking our hands. He’s surprisingly gorgeous-not that I’m, you know, looking. The bell above the door chimes, and warmth envelops us.Ī tattooed man comes out and greets us. It was almost cute, watching Coach sing their praises. Apparently, no other college team has had as much success getting their players into the NHL as he had. They’ve been spread out all over the league at this rate.Ĭoach Roake was on one of the late-night talk shows the other week. He says his goal is to get on a team with one of his friends. We moved to Tennessee shortly after Steele was signed. “You never know who you’re going to run into,” I tease him. “Shut it,” he grumbles, taking my hand and practically dragging me into the tattoo shop. And then she’s gone, and I’m left smirking at my husband. The tips of his ears are red, and he poses for a picture with the woman. Scrolling social media, I’m guaranteed to see a video montage of at least one of them, set to some sexy music. Nowhere near the level of Knox or Greyson, though, who also went into the NHL after college. One thing CPU hockey didn’t adequately prepare him for was the amount of fans he would amass. There’s been an influx of visitors lately.” “We see so many famous people visiting,” the woman says to me. He takes the notebook and offered Sharpie, although he doesn’t answer her question. “We’re going to your game tomorrow night in Boston! My family is going to freak out. Can I get your autograph?” The woman, no joke, fishes a small notebook out of her purse. “Excuse me,” a woman calls, marching down the street toward us. But now, this is obviously a massive hint at what the surprise is going to be-I’m just not sure whether the appointment is for him, me, or both of us… Now we’re parked on the street outside a popular tattoo shop on the downtown strip of this little tourist town. I would’ve been fine with not knowing, except he kept bringing it up-and that’s what piqued my curiosity. He’s been talking about this surprise for a month but refused to tell me exactly what he had planned. He pulls me out of the car and onto the sidewalk. I take it, of course, and squeeze his fingers.
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