Stop fucking thinking about her, you little bitch, I reprimanded myself mentally, and forced her from my mind.

“Will you draw me a piece for my back? I’m ready to start it. I was thinking something with skulls and flowers. Like girly voodoo stuff.”

At the mention of designing a tattoo, my mind went to Eden again. The first time I saw someone, especially someone without ink, my brain instantly snapped into create mode. With Eden, I pictured the ink I’d put on her shoulder blade as soon as she’d followed me into the shop and it was clear she’d never been inside one before.

Even the thought of tattooing her virgin skin had my dick taking notice. I shifted on my stool to readjust, not wanting JP to notice.

Pushing Eden out of my head and willing my dick to go down, I turned my attention back to JP. “What are you thinking?”

“The magic Bishop touch. Whatever you think. I just want it big, and covering the top half of my back so it ties in just under my epaulets.”

Now that, that I could do. I loved it when clients let me have free rein to design. The best work always came when someone wasn’t dictating every little detail and let me flex my artistic muscles.

“Let me think about it. I’ll start drawing it up today. I might be able to fit you in for a sitting next week. I think I have someone who’s going to cancel.”

“Awesome!” JP clapped her hands, her enthusiasm impossible to ignore. “You sure you won’t change your mind about the date? Just give me a chance. I’m not a kid.”

“It’s my rule. No touching the clients. You’ll find a guy. It just won’t be me.”

Her expression fell and hurt flashed across her features. Even if I felt guilty, it was better that way. I didn’t get involved. That wasn’t my thing.

Then why did you help Eden? Fuck if I knew the answer to that one.

Tearing my gaze from the hope lingering in JP’s eyes, I looked out toward the front window—and caught a glimpse of the back of a blonde with curves in all the right places.

I shook my head. No way it was Eden.

And why the hell did I keep looking for her? She wasn’t coming back here.

End of story. Time to put her out of my head.

SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH THE GAPS in the drapes, dragging me from a sleep that was more like a coma. I’d lain awake for so long last night, I thought I’d never doze off with the raucous noise from the never-ending party on the street below invading my room.

But apparently I was wrong.

I rolled out of bed and walked to the French doors to pull back the blinds. I needed to make sure this morning was real and not a dream.

The iconic buildings that lined Bourbon Street stared back at me from beyond the balcony, and a rush of feelings invaded.

Anxiety. Excitement. Nerves. Anticipation.

I was a girl forced from my home because of whatever messed-up stuff my father was involved in, and I’d proven yesterday that I wasn’t nearly as street-smart as I thought I was. Reading about adventuring to new places wasn’t exactly the same as doing it in real life. The confidence I’d had when I stepped on that plane at JFK had faded when I’d nearly gotten assaulted.

But today was a fresh start. The city didn’t seem quite so intimidating with the morning light, and I could pretend I was a normal girl on vacation. I could start on my list and do all the things I’d dreamed about doing.

I remembered Angelo’s orders—stay in your room, get room service, get a massage.

Sorry, Angelo. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

And then Bishop’s words as he left last night popped into my head. Stay out of trouble, kid.

I certainly wasn’t going to go looking for trouble, but I wasn’t going to let yesterday stop me. Today I wasn’t going to be carrying around a suitcase like the target he’d told me I was. Today I could blend in.

When would I ever have another chance?

Staring into the mirror, I gave myself a pep talk. “I can do this. I don’t have to go far. I can just walk around the French Quarter and be normal. I’ll be fine.”

Rationalizations in place and confidence buoyed, I showered and got ready for the day. Obviously, I hadn’t had the luxury of time to deliberate over what I packed, so I pulled some of the mishmash of clothes from my suitcase.

Jeans, a white cami, and a pale pink cardigan wouldn’t stick out during the day, right?

I slipped into my Sperrys and headed out of my room, feeling like today was the beginning of something completely new. My first taste of real life and the uncertainty of how my choices would play out. No safety net or security here. Just . . . me.

It was long overdue.

I found the green-and-white-striped awnings of the famous Café du Monde about the time my stomach was grumbling to be filled. Once I was seated at a little table, I devoured the delicious powdered-sugar-covered confection that was their famous beignet and guzzled a cup of coffee while I people-watched. It was a habit of mine honed from years of living on the sidelines and watching life go by.

I refused to acknowledge that I might have been scanning the crowd for a certain man-bunned giant. Maybe I should walk by the tattoo shop . . . see if he’s there.

I didn’t know where that idea came from, but it was a terrible one. I would do no such thing. Even if he had been the most intimidatingly beautiful man I’d ever seen, I had no business seeking him out. It wasn’t like he seemed eager to stick around and get to know me either.

Which was good because no one could get to know me here. I was still kicking myself for giving him my real name. How could I possibly screw up something so basic and important?

You’re not going to see him again, so it doesn’t matter.

It wasn’t like we would cross paths. New Orleans was a big city. And we especially wouldn’t cross paths if I stayed away from a certain tattoo shop. Not that I had a reason to walk by there, anyway. It wasn’t like I wanted a tattoo or something.

Right?

It wasn’t something I’d ever considered. Getting a tattoo hadn’t made any of my lists because it had literally never crossed my mind. Until now . . .

Pushing the ridiculous thought away, I left my seat at Café du Monde and stepped onto the sidewalk. It was terrifyingly exciting to know that there would be no security trailing me through the streets. Tendrils of freedom wrapped around me, and I savored them.