Kickflip
Christina Lee
Copyright © 2019 by Christina Lee. All rights reserved.
Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author(s), except where permitted by law.
KICKFLIP is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.
Published by Christina Lee in The United States of America
Cover Artist: Black Jazz Design
Copyedits provided by Keren Reed
Proofing provided by Lyrical Lines and Judy’s Proofreading
*Special thanks to beta readers Karen Cundy and Debbie Bar for help with Jude’s character and the English countryside
Blurb
Tattoo artist Cory Easton has been going through the motions—taking care of his grandmother and his dogs while working long hours—staying busy enough to keep the noise in his head at bay. Until he lays eyes on the quiet and aloof skateboarder Jude York, who is so unreadable, unreachable, and unlike anyone else, he arouses Cory’s curiosity.
As captivating and complex as his ink, Jude is a mystery, and Cory falls fast and hard under his spell. But rumors about Jude’s past overshadow him, whispers of secrets keeping him under the thumb of a local motorcycle club. As Cory digs deeper, he begins to wonder how much he really wants to know.
Except their connection is magnetic, and Jude’s loneliness seems to mirror Cory’s own. Against his better judgment, Cory longs for another opportunity to make the guy smile, even if peeling back too many layers scares the hell out of him. Because Jude has awakened something inside him that’s been buried far too long—and losing him as well might just be Cory’s undoing.
**PLEASE NOTE: This book was formerly titled There You Stand before a rights reversion from the publisher. It’s been newly edited, with a bonus chapter added, plus a new cover and title.
**This standalone is essentially a prequel to my Roadmap to Your Heart series, the first two books focusing on the MC club mentioned in Kickflip. You can also find some characters from my MF Between Breaths series and Golden Arrow Casino series, if you’re curious.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Author Note
About the Author
Also by Christina Lee
The Roadmap to Your Heart Series
Excerpt from The Darkest Flame
To my brother, “Ski.” I miss you and hope that however things work in this strange and wondrous universe, I’ll get to see you again someday. This is for you because you showed me from a very early age that love is simply, beautifully, and unapologetically—love.
1
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and leaned over to pat Chopper, the black-and-white border-collie mix I inherited six months ago from Joe, my latest asshole boyfriend. The dude skipped town without him, and I didn’t have it in me to drive Chopper to the pound.
What a damned sucker I was, because the mutt had a mind of his own, didn’t obey commands for shit, and was demanding as hell. He got along well with my older yellow lab, Ace, when he wasn’t jockeying for position and trying to hog all the attention. Damned needy pain in the ass. I’d stopped and sat down for a moment to take another swig from my water bottle, and he was already getting restless.
This had become my morning routine. I’d walk Chopper and Ace a couple of miles around town and always end up at Washington Park. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to the bowl, where the local skaters hung out. And without fail my gaze was immediately drawn to him, like a damned weed to the sun.
I whistled through my teeth as his lean, hard body sailed high, his knees bent in flawless formation. He landed smoothly on the far wall of the ramp, his skateboard gliding effortlessly along the curved cement.
I readjusted myself on the uncomfortable wooden bench, my back on fire again. Staying past last call at the bar would do that to you. At least that’s what I told myself. But deep down I knew it was due to my injury, which would always be a bleak reminder of that one tragic night.
I ignored the discomfort, my gaze again sliding beyond the statuesque trees. Jude was beautiful when he rode. Graceful and strong, the muscles in his legs taut as he climbed those hills. I never noticed him talking to the other skaters, other than with a nod, as if it was an unspoken agreement that he was simply there to do his thing.
I had no clue whether he knew I watched. Might kick my ass if he found out. Because I’d bet my left nut that Jude York was as straight as they come.
I always had my dogs with me, so it was a decent enough excuse. I’d sit on this bench, hide behind my dark shades and trusty knit cap, and refill my water bottle at the fountain behind me.
Rumor had it that Jude moved here to make a fresh start. Others said he was hiding from his past. I’d seen him around for months now, either skating in the bowl or working at the Board Room shop. Most recently, when he’d walked into Raw Ink one afternoon and scrolled through the portfolios in our waiting room, considering a new addition to his ink. I’d just walked a customer up front, and my gaze was immediately drawn to his long fingers and rough calluses, as he flipped through the pages. Jessie had given me a look from behind the counter that told me she was just as intrigued.
Dex, another tattoo artist who spent too many nights at the local bars, said he heard Jude was a transplant from out West. Said there was talk of a secret past, maybe some jail time, though he was hard-pressed to find anybody who’d actually spoken to the guy.
Could be because Jude was quiet, kept to himself, and rarely made eye contact, which made some folks around here anxious. Add the fact that he seemed hyperaware of his surroundings, and people figured he had a lot to hide.
But I didn’t see it that way. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to get close, so he performed the part. I played a role too. After Damon’s death three years ago, I applied for the job at Raw Ink, attempting a new start myself. Little did Jude know that his wariness, which I assumed must be rooted in a pain similar to mine, only drew me closer.
Besides, I could only imagine what had been said around town about me. I was openly gay, but understood all too well about keeping secrets. I figured Jude was a decent guy who had a good reason for his silence.
At least that was the fantasy I kept about him in my head. Fuck, I was pathetic. But plenty of straight boys had filled my deluded brain over the years, and none were nearly a
s mysterious as him.
Hadn’t I learned early on that it was impossible to bend a straight arrow? Especially if you didn’t want that arrow to pierce your heart?
I bolted up on that thought, not wanting to feel as needy as the damned dog. Or hard up, for that matter. Besides, there were plenty of hookup opportunities in this town. Just not the kind I wanted or needed. Not anymore.
Chopper was thrilled we were on the move again, and tugged hard on the lead. “Easy, boy. Let me get these leashes untangled.”
But he lunged away from me, the leash cut across my shin, and I tripped over the taut line, releasing my grip. Now free from my grasp, Chopper began running. Fucker was going to get himself run over by a damned car someday. “Chopper, get your ass back here!”
At the sound of my voice, he looked behind him, his tongue wagging in an almost taunting smile. Then he kept on sailing free. Ace was barking and going ballistic beside me, so I tightened my hold on his line. As I began gaining on Chopper, my only hope was that he’d stop of his own volition.
Halfway across the grassy field, he spotted a squirrel in one of the trees and went wild, climbing halfway up the trunk, jumping and barking. While he was distracted, I silently moved toward him, hoping to grab hold of that leash. But just as I approached, he took off again, following that same squirrel, who’d taken a leap to the next large maple.
I was out of breath now and beyond frustrated. Remembering the treats in my pocket, I figured I could lure him as my final option, which was fast approaching. I shoved my hand in my hoodie, my fingers closing on a sturdy dog cookie. When I looked up again, Chopper was headed straight for the skate park. Fuck.
“Chopper, goddamn it,” I called, a last-ditch effort. “You don’t listen for shit.”
Unexpectedly, Jude neared the cement barrier at the entrance to the bowl. His board clenched in his fist, he seemed to be assessing the situation as the charging dog neared.
He left his board on the concrete walkway and stepped onto the lawn. He squatted down in the grass, made eye contact with Chopper, and the dog changed course to sail directly toward him. What the hell was that about?
Some type of deep whistle emitted from Jude’s lips, and instead of slamming into his chest, Chopper came to a sudden halt beside him. Like Jude was a damned dog whisperer or something. His strong fingers grabbed hold of his collar, and he reached down to mutter something in the dog’s ear. Chopper sat down in the grass. Actually fucking sat down—I had never been able to get him to do that.
I remained motionless as I watched them, even though Ace was eager to inch closer. At least one animal heeded my command. I wondered what it was about Jude that compelled Chopper to run toward him. I mean, I got the appeal, so maybe it was just pure animal instinct.
Except only a minute ago, Chopper was attempting to roam free, not be detained. The muscles in Jude’s forearm flexed as he stroked Chopper’s head, and the dog’s tongue hung out in a happy pant. The little fucker.
I forced my legs forward because I needed to get Chopper back home. I had a shift at Raw Ink in an hour. And besides, Jude had done enough. I couldn’t help wondering what made him come to my aid. Was he an animal lover? Did he have pets of his own?
As I walked closer to Chopper, Jude’s eyes lifted to mine, and I saw an array of emotions alight in them. The most blatant being amusement, as if his irises contained a flicker of light. His lips tilted at the corners in an almost imperceptible smirk, and he looked so dazzling right then. As he held my gaze for the first time ever, something tightened inside my chest.
Shit, he was stunning. In an unusual kind of way. His chin-length hair was a mass of unruly blond waves, his skin inked mainly in black, and his eyes were the most gorgeous light green I’d ever seen—almost like iridescent cellophane. And now those same eyes locked on mine and held steady.
“What the hell are you doing, silly dog?” I asked Chopper, reluctantly forcing my gaze away from Jude. “I’m sorry, man.”
Jude shook his head as if to say no problem. Even now, in this casual, inane situation, he was unwilling to speak. Had I not heard the rumors, I might’ve thought he was mute. But Jessie assured me that he in fact had a voice. Used it to ask about a tattoo. But she’d said he was a man of few words.
I sprang into action because he was still holding on to my dog. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Chopper,” I reprimanded, kneeling down at his level. “Do that again, and I’ll ship your ass back to your original owner.”
When Jude arched his eyebrow, I couldn’t help the junk that spewed from my mouth. The mouth he was now staring intently at. “My ex’s dog. Left town for a new job and didn’t take Chopper with him. What kind of guy does that? Anyway, wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t have the balls to place him up for adoption.”
Jude’s eyebrows slammed together at my revelation. He was either perplexed that I’d had a boyfriend or that the guy had abandoned his dog.
When Ace cautiously stepped forward to sniff at Jude, he reached out with ease to scratch behind my other dog’s ears. I continued blathering because I couldn’t help myself. “This is Ace. Had him since he was a pup.”
He nodded and opened his hand to allow Ace to lick his palm.
“You look like you’re pretty used to dogs,” I said. “What was that thing you did—that noise you made? Calmed Chopper right down.”
He shrugged, not meeting my gaze. A line of red crawled across his neck, as if he was embarrassed I’d pointed it out.
“What I mean is, you seem like a natural.”
His eyes snapped to mine, and I saw a flicker of pain there, so brief, I might’ve imagined it.
“None of my business,” I stammered. “Thanks for helping out.”
He stood up, tipped his chin, and took a step back.
“I’d still be chasing him if it wasn’t for you,” I said, begging my brain to get my mouth to shut the fuck up. But silence had always been hard for me. I’ve always felt the need to fill up any quiet lags. That way my mind wouldn’t have the opportunity to go to that dark place. “He could’ve been clipped by a board or a car.”
Something changed in his eyes at that comment. Something that looked like sadness and regret. Like he could identify with that scenario in some way. His mouth opened as if to say something, but then he held himself back.
My heart was thrashing in my chest. Did he have a story of his own to share?
But then the moment passed, and I realized I’d kept him long enough. But damned if I didn’t want to linger longer. I’d never been this close to him, and I wanted to know more. To know everything. A ridiculous wish for sure.
He bent across the dog to hand me Chopper’s leash. As I took it, our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt of electricity. I inhaled sharply and stared at him. His expression hadn’t changed, but I noticed how his chest moved up and down at a quicker pace.
Could he have felt that too? Now I was just dreaming.
I tugged at Chopper’s leash and reluctantly turned to walk the dogs out of the park. “Thanks again,” I threw over my shoulder.
“You’re quite welcome.” The shock of hearing his voice made me stop in my tracks. Not only because it was deep and rumbly, but also because it was distinctly British, and I was so not expecting that. Jessie didn’t mention it, though she must’ve noticed when they talked. “Aren’t you an artist at Raw Ink?”
I turned to face him again, trying like hell not to stare at his full lips. “Yeah. The name’s Cory. Saw you in the waiting room the other day.”
He gave a curt nod, like he was unwilling to say anything more.
And to avoid creating another situation where I’d put my foot in my mouth, I turned and kept walking. My mind flashed to the day he’d been in the shop. I hadn’t introduced myself to him. In fact, he never even looked up from the portfolios. But somehow he’d been paying attention.
“Cory,” I heard him mutter.
I sucked in a breath and twisted to look
back once more. I wanted to see those eyes. But he was already walking away. I watched as he picked up his board, jumped astride, and rolled across the pavement away from me.
2
I was so keyed up by what took place at the park that I nearly floated into the shower, like I was on some goddamn cloud or something. How pathetic was that?
Even though I could’ve wrung his neck, I gave Chopper a good treat for actually being the catalyst that got Jude York to utter his first words to me. And what amazing words they were.
“Aren’t you an artist at Raw Ink?”
And then, “Cory.”
In that beautiful British accent that glided over my skin like fingers.
I was booked tight at Raw Ink today, and afterward I’d be heading to my grandmother’s house to pick her up for her visit with her friends. My grandmother was the only family I had left. Though she drove just fine, she had terrible night vision due to cataracts, so if she had to be out after dark, I tried like hell to pick her up. Since I drove a motorcycle, we had to take her trusty old Toyota Corolla.
I couldn’t help thinking about Jude in between tattoo appointments. When did he move to the States, and how much time had he spent in England? I wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but knowing how tight-lipped he was, that would prove impossible. Instead, I imagined the way my name would roll off his tongue while he fucked me.
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