One to Tell the Grandkids Read Free

turned into his most charming grin. “Thank you. This is for a client, but . . .” He flipped back a few pages and pointed at another drawing. “This one I’m working on for me.” He rested one arm on the counter, near the stranger’s, and pulled up his sleeve. “I was thinking right here.” He ran a finger along his upper arm.
    Caleb shook his head and looked back to his book. It wasn’t an accident Slate had found an excuse to show off his arms. He didn’t have much in the way of muscles, but the tattoos on his upper arms were stunning, his own version of flexing. Caleb glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if the stranger had taken the bait. Sure enough, the man ran the pad of his finger over Slate’s arm, tracing the edge of the tattoo there. “I think it would work well with what you have,” he said.
    Slate winked and shifted to lean both his elbows on the counter. “Now that you’ve helped me, how can I help you?”
    The stranger blinked and straightened up as though he’d just remembered he’d come in with a purpose. “With what you could do, I wish I were looking for ink, but I’m actually looking for someone. This is an odd question, okay, so bear with me. Is there anyone here with a name like a stone? Onyx maybe? Jade?”
    Caleb put his e-reader down.
    Slate raised an eyebrow. “Slate?”
    “Slate would work. Where can I find Slate?”
    “Well, you’re looking at him.” He pointed to himself. “Slayton McKenzie.”
    The man’s posture went stiff, and he took a step back from the counter. When he spoke again, his tone wasn’t at all flirtatious. “Do you have a tattoo just here?” He pointed to his left hip. “A trail or a path?”
    Caleb’s protective instinct flared. He had the urge to step between this guy and Slate. Nothing good was going to come of this conversation.
    “This tattoo?” Slate lifted his shirt and pulled the side of his pants down to reveal the tattoo on his hip.
    “Of course. Of course it has to be you.” The stranger shook his head.
    “I’m sorry, but what are we talking about here? Do we know each other?”
    “No. Not you and I, anyway.”
    Before they could continue the conversation, the bell at the front door jangled again, and a young woman stepped inside. Caleb meant to only glance at her, but as he did, her eyes met his. Their gaze lingered several beats longer than was polite before she looked at the stranger . “Robin?”
    Robin moved to her side and took her hand. “I think we found him, Taryn.”
    The look Taryn gave Slate was appraising, and if she had not gone shock-pale, Caleb might have been irritated on his friend’s behalf.
    “This is Slate, ” Robin said.
    “Slate!” The woman slapped a palm to her forehead. “Yes. Of course. Slate.”
    “Okay,” Slate mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the heck is going on? You two obviously know me, but I have no idea who either of you are.”
    “Oh, man. Okay. Time to face the music.” The woman looked as though she was going to be sick. Robin obviously thought so too as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. She gave him a shaky nod. “I got this, Rob. Give us a second, yeah?”
    “Are you sure?”
    She didn’t look sure, but she nodded.
    For a moment, Caleb was sure Robin was going to argue, but he hugged her instead. “I’ll go get Mel. We’ll be here, okay?”
    “Thanks.”
    The silence that followed was awkward. Even the other artists seemed to have piped down. The buzzing tattoo guns made for eerie background music. Caleb was on the edge of his seat, his mind flipping through various scenarios. This woman didn’t have any paperwork with her, so she probably wasn’t from the courts.
    “Lady, you’re killing me,” Slate said. His smile was weak, and Caleb could see he was trying not to fidget.
    “I’m really sorry.” She looked him over again. “You really don’t remember me at all?” The tone of her voice was pleading. “It was a bar.