I was able to get a look at the cut for the first time in the Mustang’s side mirror and found Manson’s name etched into my skin. I’d expected to feel excitement and arousal at the sight of it. What I certainly hadn’t expected was an overwhelming flood of emotion, a sensation of aching happiness.

“Don’t worry, it won’t scar,” he told me. “The cut is shallow.”

Maybe I wanted it to scar. Maybe I wanted his name on my skin forever, but I didn’t say it. My ass stung as I slid back into the passenger seat, and I was glad I’d chosen a skirt today instead of denim.

The gate was wide open when we reached their house, and Manson pulled into the yard and parked in front of the garage. I spotted Lucas’s legs under a vehicle as I followed Manson into the house, sighing in relief when the cool interior air hit me. As Manson put Lucas’s espresso in the fridge, I sat on the stairway to greet the dogs as they snuffled excitedly around my feet.

But a sudden loud burst of singing from upstairs drew my attention. The voice was muffled, but someone up above was scream-singing at the top of their lungs.

Manson laughed. “I guess Vincent is awake.”

“His room is in the attic, isn’t it?” I said, unable to stop myself from giggling.

Manson nodded. “You can go up if you want. I have to get back to work, so make yourself comfortable.”

As Manson returned to the garage, I went upstairs. There was another narrow stairway at the end of the second floor hallway, and the door at the top was open, music blasting from within as Vincent loudly sang along.

I went up the stairs and stopped in the doorway. The attic was spacious, although the angled ceiling limited its height at the edges of the room. A large bed was against one wall, the eclectic selection of patterned blankets and knit quilts rumpled. A couple freestanding clothing racks held shirts, jeans, jackets — also in a plethora of patterns and colors. A round window at the other end of the room allowed in the morning light, and it was in front of this window that Vincent was seated, cross-legged on the floor with a canvas in front of him and paints spread around him.

As the music’s chorus began again, he leaned his head back, flinging his paintbrush to the side and splattering blue paint across the floor as he belted out the lyrics.