“I like your tattoos.” His hands stalled on my biceps. “I, uh… I got ‘em for the girls.” I peered over my shoulder. “For Bree and Gracie?” Ray nodded. His touch shifted from simply smearing my skin with lotion to a massage. “I had a few when they were real little. After their mom died, I’d watch the girls for Christian and they’d color my tattoos in with markers. So, I kept getting tattoos. It was our thing. When…” He sighed. “When I’d compete in Houston or Dallas, I’d always come out here for a night or two, and they’d color my tattoos in for good luck.” “You really love them, don’t you?”
