Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  Once I reach The Gallery Ink, I unlock and push open the glass door to the parlor. I look at the main entrance where the jewelry and all the stupid shit Kevin, my partner, thinks we should sell. Thank fuck this place is deserted. We are only open to the public from Thursday to Sunday and after six o’clock. Our primary income comes from the exclusive customers who make appointments. Some of them arrive as early as seven o’clock in the fucking morning. Friday night is our busiest night when drunk college kids saunter in asking for their first tattoo.

  “For fucks sake!” I stare at the racks on the far-left corner. “When did we start selling t-shirts?”

  “Well there, hello, stranger.” Odette, our receptionists greets me. Her lips purse as she takes me in, finger twirling her long platinum blonde hair, tight black strapless top showing her flashy ink around her arms, and leather pants hugging her hips that sway from side to side as she approaches me. “I’ve been wondering when I’d see you again. I missed you, chief.”

  “Good morning, Odette.” She runs her long nail along my chin. This gesture usually gets me hard enough to fuck her against the bathroom wall, but not today. “Is Kevin in?”

  “Yeah, he’s busy with one of his high-profile clients. We have plenty of time to play.” Odette rests both hands on my chest, rubbing her body against mine as she stretches her neck and tries to kiss me. Her cheap perfume revolts my stomach and her hands touching me feels like an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. I gently take hold of her hands, removing them from my chest. I walk toward the back of the shop, sliding the barn style door to my station. “What is with you two these days?”

  “With us?” I halt, turning around, crossing my arms and arching a brow expecting some sort of explanation.

  “You and Kevin are both acting weird.” She plays with the edges of her top almost spilling her tits before she ‘fixes it.’ “He’s in a fucked up mood and you’re ignoring me. Not even a call to let me know that you’re alive.”

  I rub the side of my neck thinking of what to tell her. We’ve fooled around a few times. Odette is a great lay, we have an arrangement of sorts. We don’t play fucked-up games, I always set her straight: a quick fuck, no strings, and no feelings involved. Relationships are complicated when both parties aren’t invested.

  “There’s no need for me to call the shop,” I clarify as I search for my sketchbook. “I didn’t schedule any clients for the next few months.”

  “You never told me why you’d be outside the city. It matters to me. You’re toying with me, and I’m done with it. Once you realize what you’re doing, hit me up. Until then, I’m not going to discuss our relationship.” She flips her hair to the side and strolls away. “Call me when you’re ready to fix our situation.”

  Call her? This has never gone outside the parlor. I should’ve never fooled around with her. With my life, it’s easier to just snag the first breathing body available.

  “There’s no situation. That’s not who we are, Odette,” I run it by her again. “It was a few times and only casual.”

  She rushes back to my working room. “Casual, huh?” She purses her lips licking them a few times. Not sure what she’s trying to imply, but I’m not following or getting turned on by her.

  “It doesn’t get more intimate than having your dick inside my mouth.”

  I shrug. I don’t see your point.

  Odette stares my way with a scowl. “From now on, things are going to happen my way. The next time you want me on my knees with my lips around your cock, you’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

  She storms out of my room. What’s with the five-year-old tantrum? Does she think that her delusional act will get her somewhere? She throws shit inside her purse and leaves the shop, slamming the door but not before she serves me with the last word. “I quit.”

  “You better fix your shit with her,” Kevin calls from his work station. “Or find us a replacement by the end the day.”

  “Tiago can cover for her,” I suggest. The fucker owes me a few favors.

  “I need a strikingly beautiful woman who enjoys wearing little to no clothing.” His voice amplifies as I approach his station. “A little eye candy in the store attracts new customers.”

  “We don’t need that to get customers. We have the VIP customers posting on Instagram to pimp us out. Either way, she’ll come back, Kev,” I assure him, angling my head to the guy who lays on his stomach while his back is getting inked. “Technically, I’m not staying for more than a couple of hours. You can call her after I’m gone.”

  “How’s your mom doing?” He continues moving the needle slowly down the stencil line. He stops to wipe and continues. “You know to call if you need me.”

  “I just wanted to swing by and check to see if you needed something.”

  He stops the needle and tilts his head narrowing his face. “Nah, if Odette doesn’t come back I’ll find her replacement.”

  He goes back to work as he speaks up again. “Call or text if you need us. I’m here for you, dude.”

  “I’ll be in my studio for a couple of hours.” With a sharp nod, I pivot around and head to my room. I turn on my computer and search for my drawing tablet.

  9

  Anderson

  “Where are we?” Aspen cracks her neck, handing me the helmet I bought her earlier today and shaking her curly her.

  “Downtown?” I arch an eyebrow, resting the helmet on the seat of my bike. Nerdy Doc with framed glasses and lab coat is hot. The biker chick look with skinny jeans that fit her like a second skin, hugging the curves of her rounded ass, leather jacket and tall boots has me drooling since I picked her up an hour ago. “We’re in Belltown.”

  “That’s obvious.” She snorts, pointing at the Space Needle, then turning around to the building in front of us. “What are all those people waiting for?”

  “Hawk,” the valet parking dudes greet me. One takes the helmets while the second jumps on my bike.

  “There’s a full house tonight, good luck going inside.” Ryan stays behind handing me my ticket.

  “Thank you for the heads up, Ryan.” I take Aspen’s hand marching toward the back door.

  “This isn’t a ride along the coast,” she insists. Her eyes are weary, her body is tense, and surprisingly, she’s holding my hand tight and grasping my arm with her other hand.

  “Hawk, my man,” the security guard on the back door greets me, interrupting Aspen. As he greets us as he opens the door. “They’re at full capacity, keep an eye on your girl.”

  “All the clubs?”

  “All except the acoustic bar. There’s a private concert.” He indicates angling his head to the left. “I’m sure they’ll let you in, though.”

  “Is there something special going on?”

  He nods. “The boss and his band are playing tonight.” He salutes me closing the door from the outside.

  Weird, Kevin didn’t mention having a gig tonight.

  “Where are we?” Aspen grasps my hand tighter as we walk through the dim hallway.

  “The Silver Moon.” I scan the area, checking who’s working tonight. “We have a couple of options, choose between bar or…Do you want to hear live music?”

  She halts, pulling me toward her. “Live music?” Her brows knit into a frown. “What happened to ‘let’s drive?’”

  “I promised to distract you.” With my free hand, I touch her temple, drawing small circles on it, then smoothing the wrinkle in between her brows. She furrows her nose. I slide my finger to the tip, poking it slightly, and resisting the urge to kiss her nose. “You seemed too stressed when I picked you up.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head. “The best way to erase that worry is interrupting Kevin’s gig.”

  “Who’s Kevin?” She raises her eyebrows in question.

  “My partner.” I smile, waiting for some ‘tattoo artist’ suggestion but he says nothing. “He’s cool, you’re going to like him.”

  She intakes air, nodding slowly
. Her shoulders loosen up, and she smiles. “Then, we shall listen to the troubadour.”

  No one is on the stage when we enter, music blasts from the speakers overhead. I find us a seat in the left corner of the bar, closer to the stage. Aspen orders a margarita while I order whatever special they have on tap. She sheds her jacket, uncovering a red sleeveless blouse that shows off enough of her cleavage. I can see straight down; I’m mesmerized by her full breasts and the hint of a black bra covering them. My pulse quickens as I picture those breasts bursting as I unhook the delicate garment holding them.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice Kevin walking toward us. “I apologize in advance,” I warn Aspen.

  “What?” She blinks twice, confused.

  “Look what the cat dragged,” Kevin says, stopping right beside Aspen, shooting her a flirty smile. Fuck, I should’ve sat right next to her. “And who are you, gorgeous?”

  There’s a primal urge inside me to push him away from Aspen.

  The waiter delivers our drinks. Aspen grabs hers, gifting Kevin a cordial smile. Her tongue darts out, licking her lips first and then the salt around the rim of her glass. My jaw drops. My breath catches. Fuck, what I would give for that tongue to swirl around my cock. Just friends. She takes a couple of gulps, gazing at Kevin after licking her lips. “I’ll be better after two or three of these.”

  “Aspen, this is Kevin, my—”

  “Partner,” she finishes my sentence, extending her hand. “Nice meeting you, Kevin. It surprises me that we haven’t seen you around the house.”

  “Sweetheart, tell me when and where and I’ll be there with Gran Patron.”

  “Cool it, man,” I advise him.

  He lifts his arms, surrendering, “Chill, Hawk.” The music stops, the voices of everyone around take over the background. “I better go backstage. We start in a few. Are you going back to your Mom’s tonight?”

  Aspen raises her margarita glass signaling the waiter to bring a second one.

  “Not sure, I brought the bike.” He nods, agreeing that if Aspen continues drinking at this pace, she might not be able to hold onto me while we drive back to her house. “Depends on how things go. The apartment is only ten minutes from here.”

  “Nice meeting you, Aspen.”

  “Same, Kevin.”

  Once he’s out of earshot she leans, and gives me a knowing grin. “He’s cute. Handsome. I approve.” Then she twists her lips. “He’s a flirt, is he…bi?”

  I rub the back of my head not understanding how she knew Kevin is bi-sexual. “Yeah,” I respond with a shrug. “Does it bother you?”

  She touches her sternum slightly shaking her head. “Not at all. Does it bother you?”

  “Nah, he is who he is.”

  She opens her mouth, but the music begins and we go quiet. I drag her chair closer to me. “You can see better from this angle,” I explain as she stares at me.

  The waiter brings her a second margarita, I signal for him to come closer to me. “Bring us another round of water, please.”

  Aspen bends close to me, resting her head on my shoulder and her lips brushing my ear. “Are you going to tell him to cut me off?” I shake my head, moving my arm around her shoulder and pressing her closer to me. “Good, because I’m a big girl.”

  “I ordered water, Doc.” I nuzzle her hair, enjoying her scent. A mix of coconut, flowers and honey. “Just trying to make sure we stay hydrated.”

  We listen to Kevin and his old bandmates play. Aspen orders two more margaritas. I continue nursing my second beer. I’m enjoying the music, the company, and the calm this girl brings when she’s around. Mom’s health concerns me. Earlier today, she told me that maybe she should live the rest of her days happy. No more doctors, injections, or medicines that make her feel worse than she already does.

  “I like that song,” Aspen whispers closing the small gap between us. “They do great covers. They sound almost exactly like Without A Compass—my brother was a fan.”

  “Yeah, they sound old.” I don’t mention they’re the same band.

  I comb my fingers through her curls, fascinated by the springing motion. I’m enjoying my time with her. My friend who has a boyfriend for some forsaken reason I can’t understand. The one who possesses pouty lips that I crave. Something about this girl calls me. My reactions when she’s around are unexpected. I can’t remember spending so much time with a girl—a woman.

  “My mother is calling more than usual. We have a terrible relationship. My fiancé’s birthday is close, and I don’t know what to do with my career,” she shouts, letting a loud breath out when she’s done.

  Fiancé? What happened to douchebag? She’s marrying the douchebag? I don’t know how to address any one of them.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about them. Not tonight. Thank you for this—I didn’t know I needed a night off.”

  My heart swells with those words. My desire was to draw back a smile, erasing the stress of the day or the weeks I wasn’t around. From all the missions I’ve been in charge of, this is the most successful one. The one that makes me feel accomplished. When the session is over, I convince her to hop on over to the bars next door. We party in the eighties to the rhythm of Billy Idol, Queen, Kenny Loggins, and Starship and stopp when U2’s Joshua Tree starts to play.

  “I like the band, but they’re too dramatic to dance to, don’t you think?” she says, looking around the room.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Another margarita?” she responds energetically. Five drinks in, and her speech is still smooth, as is her coordination. This woman can pack some serious amount of alcohol. “The tequila they used is perfect. I’ve never tasted something as wonderful as that one.”

  I chose Gran Patron to ensure that tomorrow’s hangover won’t hit her as hard. It wasn’t cheap, sweetheart. You’re welcome.

  She downs it like water. Then she grabs the glass of water I asked for, chugging it. Right then, George Michael’s Careless Whisper starts to play. Her body starts swaying, I take her hand marching toward the dance floor.

  “I never pictured you like this,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck and smiling at me. Her bright eyes fixed on mine.

  “How did you picture me?” I move closer to her, closing the space between us. Resting my hands on her lower back, I lead us to the soft rhythm of the music. We’ve done this before, the night she arrived earlier from her gala wearing a short dress. She was showing off her long, tanned legs in a pair of shinny “fuck me” heels. Sharing her space feels right. So does breathing her perfume combined with the coconut in her hair. The experience is overwhelming in a good way, like Aspen.

  I have this desire to spend time with her, occupy the same space as her, and make love to her. I’m fucking confused because I don’t know the first thing about a relationship. We are friends, I’ve never had a female friend who I’m attracted to before. Is this normal? Should I act on it? No, she has a fucking boyfriend.

  “Different?” she answers when the song ends. “Serious, sullen…you have short answers and zero conversation starters—unless you’re asking questions.”

  “Or texting,” I remind her with a wink.

  Lady in Red starts playing. As Chris De Burgh sings the song, I gaze at the beautiful woman in my arms. The lyrics fit her and I doubt I’ll ever forget the way she looks tonight. Hypnotized by her brown eyes, the music, and the moment—I put my hand behind her head leaning closer to her, brushing my lips against hers. There’s an electrical surge traveling through my spine when I take her lips. She relaxes, opening her mouth as I lick her bottom lip. The taste of her, the feel of her body against me, all these emotions rushing through my body settle as I slide my tongue inside her mouth.

  The craving I hoped would subside with this kiss increases, it’s a hunger I doubt I can satisfy.

  “Wait,” she pushes me away. Closing her eyes, she rests her forehead on my chest. “I have a boyfriend and too many tequilas i
n my system.”

  Fucking boyfriend. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but friends kiss.” I play dumb. She shakes her head, snorting. “Oh well, you’ll have to teach me how the rules go. Another margarita?”

  Driving a bike with a hard on won’t be easy. Some beer, a walk to cool down, and a few feet between the two of us will fix the tent in my pants.

  “Getting me drunk won’t get me in bed,” she blurts out, laughing. “One more and then we can go home.”

  One more margarita, two more songs, and remember keep your pants on, Hawk.

  10

  Aspen

  Fuck, when did I forget to close the blinds? The sun blasts in through the window, landing directly on my…wait, my room faces west, and I have blinds. There’s never sun blaring—ever. I stretch and wince at the drilling inside my head. My outfit is a long black t-shirt that reads Ink Art Gallery and a pair of socks. What happened?

  My heavy drinking usually happens at home. I never wake up with a ropy, muscular arm clutching my belly and a leg hooking around my lower body. Never have I ever brought a stranger to my house. Shit, Heath. Did I do something? Fragmented memories from last night flash inside my head: the live music with those guys who looked and sounded like an older version of Without A Compass, the delicious margaritas. There’s still a salty taste between my dry lips.

  Holly shit, Anderson. I sigh, that kiss. My heart rate speeds up as I remember our tongues dancing as we did. The hunger, the passion, Heath; I stopped it in time but drank another margarita. How many did I drink?

  “I’m way too old for this,” I groan, rubbing my eyes. I stretch, fighting strong arms holding me and look at the big flat TV screen in front of the bed, white walls, and wood floors. My top lays on the rug. “I didn’t go home, great.”

  “Say the magic words.” Anderson’s husky voice travels from my ears to my toes, creating a trail of goosebumps as I fight his rippling arm.