Undercover Lover (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Theresa McGhee

  Willow gestured with her thumb towards the door, her face a mask of disbelief. “Cameron? Why?”

  Bogey shrugged his big shoulders and sighed. “I don’t know, Willow. I just don’t like him. While he’s here, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him wonder around.”

  “Bogey, I never let anybody wonder around,” she defended herself, surprised. “I’m very careful when I’m here alone. You know that.”

  Bogey sighed again, shaking his head at himself. “I’m sorry. I know you treat this place like it’s your own. The dude just seems off. Fake.”

  Willow frowned at him. Cameron seemed like a decent guy, made her laugh, and to be honest, she was hoping he’d ask her out sometime during the application of his tattoo. She’d always respected Bogey’s judgement because usually he was right about whatever topic or person they were discussing. He was, wrong, however, about Jody, who he refused to fire even though she was not good for the parlor. Even though Willow had suggested they replace her. Maybe he was wrong about Cameron too.

  “I promise I’ll be extra careful, Bogey, but I can’t pass this opportunity to create a tattoo like that one,” she told him, gesturing again towards the door.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to turn him away,” Bogey said. “And I know you’ll be careful. Watch out for yourself as well, yeah?”

  “Of course. Are you staying?”

  “No, I have to go. Gotta meet my pal,” he reminded her. They left the storeroom, and he turned to go out the backdoor. “See you tomorrow, Willow.”

  “Bye, Bogey,” Willow said as she walked towards the front. She heard the backdoor open and close as she walked through the door and to the counter. She smiled at Cameron as the sound of Bogey’s Harley rumbled to life. “Sorry for the delay.”

  Cameron lifted himself off the counter where he’d been leaning. “No problem. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Bogey was just making sure I felt comfortable being alone with a man.” That’s the best excuse you could come up with, she thought, rolling her eyes mentally at herself.

  Cameron narrowed his eyes playfully at her. “Haven’t you been alone with a man before?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She laughed. “But he’s like a dad and sometimes he gets weird. You know.”

  “Not really,” Cameron replied, and she giggled again. “So, how about some pizza while we discuss this sketch?”

  “You don’t like it?” she asked, concerned as she grabbed it off the counter to look at it.

  “I do like it,” Cameron rushed to correct her assumption. “But you haven’t told me a price yet?”

  “Oh!” She laughed with relief, and put her hand on her chest. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

  “No, Willow, it’s fantastic. It will look perfect across my shoulders,” Cameron assured her. “So, how much?”

  “Because of the amount of time, the detail required, and the supplies I’ll need to use,” she clenched her teeth and looked sideways at him out of one eye and said, “I think four fifty is a fair price.”

  Cameron was silent for a second, and Willow’s stomach clenched with her teeth. Too much, she thought, frowning. Am I willing to negotiate? Before she could decide on a counteroffer should he want to bargain, he nodded his head.

  “I think that’s a fair price for a beautiful piece of work like this,” he said with a smile.

  Willow released the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, I’m glad.”

  “Now that I’ve placated your artist’s sensibilities, can we eat? I’m starving.”

  Willow narrowed her eyes and growled, “Artist’s sensibilities. Hmph! Whatever. I’ll get plates.” She turned and walked back to the storeroom again, calling, “Did you bring drinks?”

  “No, sorry,” he called as he rounded the counter to sit at a little table with two chairs where he assumed they ate.

  “I’ve got some sodas back here,” she called again as she dug in the cabinets for plates. She wiped them down and retrieved the sodas from the fridge. Bogey’s warning rang in her mind again, but she pushed it aside as a boss’ whim, a desire to keep her safe.

  *****

  Bogey drove more quickly than necessary to his meeting with his friend. He scoffed at the word friend. More like business partners. He’d only known Pablo since the man had returned to the area after prison, but his profits had doubled. The man could get the best stuff that sold for a nice price. And the fact that Willow was his daughter was useful information to have, just in case things went south later.

  Bogey cared for Willow, of course, especially after working with her for five years, watching her grow into the artist she was today. But he’d use her for leverage if he had to. Pablo asked about her every time Bogey picked up a shipment. More than once, Bogey had slipped extra money into her palm from her father, a man she didn’t know was even alive, and claimed it was from a customer who forgot to tip her. She’d been suspicious every time but had accepted the cash after Bogey insisted.

  Pablo’s questions about her ranged from boyfriends to college to her mom, though Bogey didn’t know anything about her mom. He told Pablo as much as he knew, accepted the cash for her, and handed it over. He thought it was both very sad and very sweet that Pablo cared about his daughter but wouldn’t approach her.

  Bogey reached the club Pablo and his crew owned after a twenty-minute ride. He placed his helmet on the handlebar before hefting himself off his bike. His boots crunched on the gravel path that led to the door, which was guarded by a man he knew on sight but whose name he didn’t know.

  “Bogey,” the man greeted. “Pablo is in the office. Go through the bar an—”

  “I know where the office is,” Bogey growled as he pushed past him and ambled through the bar to the office. He knocked loudly and waited for Pablo to call for him to enter. Inside were three men, Pablo and two of his associates, all three Latino, discussing quietly some business that was none of Bogey’s business.

  After a moment, Pablo addressed Bogey. “Hello, Bogey. Sorry for the wait.” He gestured to the two men with them. “Business is business.”

  Bogey had no idea what that meant, so he nodded in response. “Sure.”

  “Amigos, go on and take care of the problem we discussed,” Pablo ordered amiably, smiling at his men. He returned his attention to Bogey and gestured to one of the empty chairs. “Take a seat.”

  Bogey knew that smile was deceptive but smiled at him. “Everything good?”

  “Always.” Pablo offered him a drink, which Bogey gratefully accepted. As he made their drinks, he asked, “How’s Willow?”

  “She’s doing good,” he answered. He never offered more than Pablo asked. He accepted his drink and watched as Pablo sat across from him at the desk.

  “How’s her work?”

  “She’s very excited. She’s starting the biggest, most detailed tattoo of her career so far. The sketch was beautiful,” Bogey answered. He chose not to discuss the bad feeling he’d felt when he’d met the man she would be tattooing.

  “And her school?”

  “She doesn’t talk with me about that much. I’ve told you that,” Bogey reminded him after sipping his whiskey. “But as far as I can tell, she’s good. Should graduate in about a year, I think. Not sure.”

  “Good. I have some money for her.” Pablo reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Bogey, who raised his brows.

  “This is a lot of money. How am I supposed to explain this much cash to her?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way. Just make sure she gets it, even if it’s just in small chunks,” Pablo ordered.

  “She’ll get it,” Bogey assured him.

  “I know she will. I can trust you with that,” Pablo mused thoughtfully. He pressed his fingers against his lips as he pictured his daughter. “Is she seeing someone?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but we don’t exactly have sleepovers and discuss boys while doing our hair,” Bogey replied, chuckl
ing.

  Pablo raised a corner of his lip but did not laugh. After an awkward silence, Pablo frowned and asked, “Did you manage to get me a picture?”

  “I have one on my phone from her Facebook profile,” Bogey told him awkwardly. He didn’t like using his tattoo’s page to steal pictures for Pablo. The man’s obsession with his daughter was growing stronger. He sat up. “Listen, why don’t you come to the shop and meet her? You don’t have to tell her who you are.”

  Pablo waved a hand and shook his head at the same time. “No, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if she recognized me?”

  “She has no idea who her father is, Pablo. Her mother never told her,” Bogey reminded him.

  “Stupid bitch. She probably used the money I sent over the years for drugs,” Pablo grumbled. “Is she still alive?”

  Bogey chuckled, settling in to the conversation and relaxing. The whiskey was good. “You asked me that two weeks ago. Yes.”

  “Does Willow still give her money?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but probably. She doesn’t see her much, though,” Bogey offered.

  “Dumb,” Pablo murmured, wishing he’d raised his daughter rather than that piece of shit he’d fucked for a year and walked away from. He hadn’t known about his daughter until the girl was five, but he’d been in prison and had been able to do nothing. Once he’d been released, he’d sent money to Keisha with the stipulation she use it for Willow. But making sure of that had been impossible. He was grateful he could give the money straight to her now that she was grown.

  “I’ll make sure she gets it, but you should think about coming to meet her. She’s a good girl,” Bogey said.

  “We’ll see,” Pablo said. He sat up and rested his arms on the desk. “On to business.

  “I assume selling is going well?”

  “I’ve got regulars who come in, and I’m always on the lookout for expansion,” Bogey replied with a smile. “Minor issue, but don’t worry. I’m handling it.”

  “What kind of issue?”

  They discussed their business quickly, each enjoying another glass of whiskey while they planned the distribution of a ton of drugs shipped in from Columbia two days ago. Bogey left with the money for Willow in his pocket as well as an address to pick up the supply he could sell over the next week.

  Before he’d left, he’d texted the picture of Willow to Pablo, who had stared at it, mesmerized by his beautiful daughter. Bogey left him to it, hoping he wouldn’t have to use her if things turned ugly between her unknown father and himself.

  Chapter 4

  The pizza was devoured quickly, and Cameron smirked at Willow as she polished off her last bite, smacking her lips and licking her fingers to get the last yummy goodness in her mouth. “Damn, woman. You might just steal my heart, the way you eat a pizza.”

  She chuckled and pointed at him. “Are you calling me fat?”

  His eyes widened. “Dear God, no! I’m not a complete moron.”

  “Just half of one,” she returned as she rose and began collecting the trash. She waved him down when he rose from the table to help. Cameron watched her ass as she walked away from him, and his hands itched to touch it. “I got it. I can put away a pizza, that’s the truth. And I was starving! Thank you for bringing it.”

  “My pleasure.” He clapped his hands together with excitement, rubbing them quickly together. He really didn’t want the evening to end. He’d enjoyed talking to her while they were eating. Talking to her and looking at her. The woman was stunning. “So, are we starting on the tattoo today?”

  Willow glanced at the clock and gritted her teeth, sucking a breath through them. “Well, it’s 6:30 and we close at ten. If you want to start tonight, we can, but we won’t get much done. That’s kind of my fault. I didn’t think you’d want to start tonight, so I didn’t prep.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “We can wait until tomorrow if you’d rather. But I don’t mind waiting a few minutes if you want to gather what you need. I’d really like to start today, if we can.”

  “You’re in an awful hurry to get it done. Bored with me already?” she asked with a smile.

  “The opposite, actually. I’d like to spend time with you, if you’ll let me,” he replied seriously. “And I am excited to get it done.”

  Her eyes twinkled at him, and he felt his breath catch. “I’m really excited to get started too!” she squeaked excitedly. “I’ll hurry and get what we need. Flip through the sketches. I’ve broken it down by sections, day one, day two, and so on. I’ll need to measure your shoulders first.” She hurried over to her station and began selecting inks and setting out other paraphernalia she would need: alcohol wipes, clean antiseptic wipes, and other things he didn’t recognize.

  Cameron walked to the front counter where they’d abandoned Willow’s sketchbook and began flipping through the sketches. He was completely uninterested in the sketches at the moment. He was watching Willow move about the shop collecting her tattooing items while he pretended to look at the sketches. Her body moved gracefully, and though she was curvy and short, only about 5’2” or 5’3”, her movements reminded him of the tree from which her name came blowing in the wind. Her lackadaisical movements were smooth, and she was a pleasure to watch. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, though when she glanced his way, he jerked his eyes downward to the sketchbook. When she continued working, he watched her breasts, her ass, her face, and wondered briefly how much of a pervert he would look like to an observer. They were alone, so as long as she didn’t catch him, he could look as much as he wanted.

  “Could you bring me the sketchbook, please? I want to make sure I’m choosing the correct colors,” she called to him, interrupting his visual pleasure.

  “Um, sure.” Cameron walked it over to her.

  She glanced at him and smirked. “Why are you still wearing that shirt? I need to see my canvas.”

  “You just want to see me naked,” he replied as he lifted his tee shirt over his head. She glanced at him, and her appreciation for his naked upper torso was plain in her expression. “Hey, now. My eyes are up here.” He pointed at his face, and her eyes shot back up to his.

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably and returned to her work without speaking. Cameron chuckled internally because her face was so readable. She was attracted to him, he was sure of it now. While she collected the ink she’d need for the first section and put it on a tray, she hummed a tune he didn’t recognize, and again he was struck by the thought that she would be a good singer.

  “Do you sing?” he asked to ease the tension.

  “As good as Beyoncé,” she teased without looking up.

  “I’m serious. You have a speaking voice that sounds like you’d be a good singer,” he pressed. She didn’t blush, which surprised him.

  She looked up at him, a questioning in her eyes. “Thank you. That’s a very nice compliment. Better than what I usually get.” She gestured to the massage table where he would lie while she applied the tattoo. “Put your face in the hole, relax your arms and lay them next to your body.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked, frowning as he climbed on the table.

  “To lie on the table on your stomach with your arms next to you.”

  “I mean what kind of compliments you get, smartass.”

  She giggled. “Oh, you know, hot or sexy, blah, blah.” She waved her hand as if those didn’t matter. “Dudes who say that kind of shit when they first meet me are just trying to fuck me.” She touched his left shoulder with something cold, and he jumped. She removed it quickly and explained, “Sorry. Just a measuring tape.”

  “Why are you measuring my shoulders?” he asked.

  “You want the tattoo from one shoulder to the other, correct?” He nodded. “I have to make sure the drawing in my sketchbook is scaled to the correct size.”

  “Ah, a little high school algebra coming into play at the tattoo parlor.”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Green would be so proud,” she mu
rmured as she measured the sketch and began her calculations under it.

  He lifted his head to watch her. “You are those two things as well, you know.”

  Distractedly, and without looking up, she asked, “What two things?” She bit her lip as she wrote her numbers, and Cameron’s groin tightened in response.

  He shifted on the table, forcing himself to think about foot fungus so he wouldn’t embarrass himself if he did have to sit up. “Hot and sexy.”

  She lifted her eyes to his and smiled at him, her eyes smoky. “Are you trying to get into my pants, Cameron?”

  “Would you be opposed, Willow?” Their eyes remained locked for several seconds, and Cameron wondered what was going on behind those eyes when her smile faded. “Willow?”

  “Um…” She jerked herself away and said, “Um, yeah, so…”

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” Cameron said. “I certainly didn’t mean to.”

  “Not uncomfortable,” she admitted as she returned her gaze to him. “Interested.”

  Cameron’s eyebrows winged into his hairline. “Interested? Really?” For a second, he remembered he was supposed to be investigating her boss and that she could be involved. But her parted lips, her eyes almost hazy with arousal, erased those thoughts from his mind. “Can I kiss you?”

  Willow’s nose scrunched up, and perplexed, she said, “You’re actually asking me?”

  “Gentlemanly behavior and all that,” he told her as he sat up on the table.

  She straightened away from the counter, and while sitting on the table, he was somewhat closer to her height. “Gentlemanly. I don’t meet many of those.”

  “And I don’t meet many women who won’t stay out of my head when I’m not around them.” He reached for her and pulled her closer so that she stood between his legs. She tilted her head back to look at him. Their mouths were so close, it would take only a small bend of his neck for his lips to meet hers.

  She tilted his head for an easier meeting. “You’ve been thinking about me.”