by Rose Hudson
“Not many people know this, but Madison is pregnant.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“No. Very pregnant. Like, about to have a baby any day pregnant.”
“I’m not even going to try and wrap my mind around how that works. But the baby is okay?”
“Amazingly, they’re perfect.”
“So, this means what for you?”
“That I’ll be a surrogate parent for a while.” I refuse to acknowledge the “and maybe forever” that crosses my mind.
“Wow. How are you going to do that and work and still go to the hospital and all the other shit you do?”
“I guess like every other single parent in the world. But I’ll take a couple weeks off, initially.”
“Well, instead of drinks out, I may be bringing the booze to you. Sounds like you’ll need it.”
I smile at her.
“It can’t be that bad. I mean, there must be some benefits to it or people wouldn’t have more than one. Right?” She looks at me despondently, shrugging.
“You’re definitely asking the wrong person. I’m never reproducing. Ever.”
“God, we’re a couple of sad-sacks, aren’t we?” We laugh, Kelli holding up her drink.
“To future cat ladies everywhere,” she toasts. We clink our glasses together.
“I don’t know about that, I’m more of a dog person.”
“Oh God, then you’re just beyond help.” She turns in her seat looking around the vast sea of people. New restaurants and bars are always ridiculously cramped for weeks, sometimes months. So, us coming opening weekend was insane. “What we need is a couple of fine men with loose morals.”
“Well, that narrows it down.” I laugh.
“You take that half, I’ll take this half.” She waves her arm from one side of the room to the other.
I’m forced to stand on the upper bars of my chair to see over the top of the massive crowd, but at least I know if I fall there will be a body to catch me.
Scanning so many faces isn’t as easy as one would think. After so many, everyone starts to blend together, look the same. Some people dance. Some people attempt to play pool without knocking someone out with their stick. Impossible.
What does she want me to do, pick the first decent looking pair of guys I land on? The closest I’ll come to doing that will be using a flashlight and scanning the crowd like a security guard. And I would have to leave the safety of my chair and that’s not happening.
Giving the booths along the back wall a final glance over, a cool burn pricks at the back of my neck. A familiar mix of fear and excitement churn in my belly. I feel eyes on me, but where they’re coming from I’m not sure.
When I look at the large table in the back corner, Stone’s face is lit almost in a spotlight from the light hanging on the wall behind the corner sectional. I’m not surprised to see him looking at me, it only makes the crawl of heat on my skin relevant. And it doesn’t surprise me to see him here because somehow in this city of nine million people, our paths keep crossing.
Sitting down abruptly, I shake the table and almost spill mine and Kelli’s drinks sitting on their coasters.
“Whoa lightweight. That Patrón going to your head? I did think that was a little strong for your taste.”
I shoot her a half-hearted smile and shrug.
“I’ve had a strange craving for it lately.” It’s the truth. That taste has lingered on my tongue for a solid week and since I can’t quench it the way I want to, the way Stone did in my kitchen, this will have to do.
“Any luck on your side of the room? I didn’t see many who weren’t already attached over here.” She pouts, draining the little bit of wine left in her glass.
“Yeah, didn’t see much worth leaving my chair for over here either.”
“Don’t break my heart, goddess.” His words are warm against my ear and I close my eyes at the familiar halt of time and space when he’s near.
Goddess.
He’s called me that once before, but his cock was torturing me and our blissful ignorance was still fully intact. Kelli’s eyes go wide across from me and I can see the wheels in her head burning rubber.
“Kelli, this is Stone Keeling. Stone, this is my friend and assistant to the mayor, Kelli Richards.” I usually don’t introduce Kelli so formally, but given Stone’s current issues with the senator, I want him to be aware of who she is.
“Pleasure.”
“Likewise,” Kelli purrs. “Please tell me you’re here with friends.”
Keep it in your pants, Richards.
“I am. They’re in town for a show this weekend, so I have to catch them when I can.” He gives me a knowing look, letting me know he’s with the band.
“A show?” she asks.
“Their band, Bloodfeather, is playing a few gigs around town this weekend. Tracen, the drummer, this is his brother’s bar.”
All Kelli can do is stare, mouth agape.
“Seriously?” Kelli leans across the table. “How do you know them?”
“Johnny and I were friends growing up. Kane and Tracen graduated a year before us.”
“Holy shit. Are they all here?”
“Just Tracen and a few guys from the crew. Why don’t you two come sit with us. I mean, if you think I’d be worth leaving your chair for.” His eyes are teasing, but dancing with a threat of darkness.
“Don’t mind her. I think the Patrón is going straight to her brain,” Kelli taunts, gathering her coat from the back of her chair.
“It’s stout but addicting.” He looks to her then back to me. “Guess sometimes we just crave the burn.” Bastard.
“So, you’re a tequila drinker too, huh?”
“Nah, just craving it lately.”
Her eyes widen a little. “That’s too weird. Lydia was just say—”
“Don’t we have a table to find?” I interrupt. The smirk on Stone’s face is priceless. “Lead the way,” I say in response to his outstretched arm.
“You know where we’re going. This way I can make sure you don’t get lost in the crowd.”
I glare at him, looking over at Kelli who is watching us like a couple of escaped circus animals.
He keeps his hand on the small of my back the entire millennium it seems to take us to get to his table, and I welcome the little distance I gain as we step up onto the elevated floor designated for the sitting area.
“I was wondering if you were coming back.” Tracen stands from his seat. “These friends of yours?” He recognizes my face. “Oh, hey Lydia.” He leans in and hugs me, looking to Stone, smirk in place. “A repeat? Someone’s got a crush.” He gives Stone shit and I laugh uncomfortably but loving that he gets a little of what he gives from these guys. He extends his hand to Kelli.
“I wouldn’t say friends, really. They have some weird mutual love for tequila, but I’m completely unattached,” Kelli says quickly, holding on to Tracen’s hand for an inappropriate amount of time.
Kelli keeps her pin-up style to a minimal at the office, but tonight it’s in full effect. She’s shorter than me, but the red heels she wears gives her a good six inches so we seem virtually the same height. I wait for Tracen’s gaze to fall on the valley of ample cleavage that I’m sure every guy in the bar checked out on the way here, but he just smiles and holds her gaze.
“Considering you look like the fantasy girls that used to hang all over my brother’s side of the room, I’m pretty sure he’s going to want to meet you.”
Her smile never falters. She just looks around like he’s going to appear out of thin air.
“Where is he?” she asks. I look up at Stone, tamping down my smile. I’ve always admired Kelli for her lack of filter. Of course, there have been times it’s gotten her into trouble, but mostly I think it’s insured that she gets what she wants. And I’m sure the huge boobs and lips don’t hurt either.
“Damn, red. Impatient much?”
“What’s the point of wasting valuable time?”
“Screw my brother, I may just keep you for myself.”
“That works too.”
Stone clears his throat and I’m pleased to know I’m not the only one who feels like they’re witnessing something private. He gestures to the large half-moon couch and we take a seat among the members of the crew.
“Stone, Lydia, this is Kylie, Tim, Jimmy, Matt and Tank. Best crew around.”
“Nice to meet you guys,” I say as I scoot in close to Kylie, the only chick at the table other than Kelli and me. “Well, and girl.” I smile.
“Yeah, I’m pretty much one of the guys by now. If it wasn’t for the chicks touring with our opening band, I’d probably lose my mind half the time.”
“I thought you loved us, Diddy,” Jimmy speaks up beside her.
“I do. That’s the problem.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “It’s not too bad. I’ve known most of these guys since high school so, ya know. It’s kind of like we’re in an evolutionary time capsule.”
I nod, understanding, but not at the same time. I realize my lack of friends in that moment.
“Johnny just texted. Said Cornolo’s got Speakeasy cleared out. You ready?” Tracen says to everyone at the table.
“Here, you’re gonna want some of this.” Kylie pours two shots of Patrón, sliding one to me. “Cheers.” She clinks the glass as I pick it up.
“Only been here five minutes and you’re already getting my date drunk,” Stone says to Kylie over my shoulder.
“She can’t go get a tattoo without proper preparation.” She winks.
“Uh, a tattoo? When did we agree to do this?” I look from her to Stone.
“That’s what Tracen was just saying. That’s where Kane and Johnny are; Speakeasy Tattoo. That’s where we’re all going.”
“You down? They’re the best in the city and Johnny’s friends with the owner. Got the place shut down so we can all get some ink while we’re in town.”
My heart starts to beat fast. My eyes widen fractionally as I look back to Stone.
“We don’t have to go. We could go back to my place,” he whispers in my ear and I shiver, the Patrón warming my skin and disregarding my voice of reason.
No way. There’s no way I’m going anywhere alone with him. I don’t trust myself at all.
“Okay. What are we waiting for?” I stand from the booth, scooting over Stone and making my way out of the space that’s way too close to him now. “Who’s giving up their chair for me?” I look at Tracen.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you are getting some basic bitch tat or a real piece.” Basic bitch? What does that even mean? I consider the ink running from the tips of his fingers all the way up his arms, and assume he means more than a little heart on my hip. Shit. I lean down to the table, feeling Stone’s eyes on me as I pour another shot and down it. “Let’s do this.”
We ride with Tracen in his old-school Camaro on the way to Speakeasy where Stone’s truck is parked, and of course, I had to sit in his lap the whole way there. I refused to look at him because I knew what I would encounter if I did. Those eyes, full of questions and accusations.
But that doesn’t mean he didn’t take every chance he got to rub his thumb on the skin exposed at my thigh when my skirt rose, or the way his other hand gripped purposefully on my hip, squeezing just enough to make me close my eyes.
He knows what he does. There’s no reason for me to prove him right.
“Bout time you motherfuckers got here,” Johnny shouts as we all make our way through the door. “Time is money. I’ve already been in the chair. Who’s next for some pain?” He slaps hands with Stone. “You?” Johnny asks him as he pulls back.
“Little Miss Thang here is going to get a real piece, so I’m giving up my chair to her,” Tracen answers.
“Oh really?” He turns to the back of the parlor where several people sit around the tattoo chairs. My stomach flips and I wish we’d brought that bottle with us. “Who are we putting this one with, Consolo?”
“What are we doing?” the guy asks me as Johnny pulls me toward the back. I look back over my shoulder, pleased to see Stone right behind me, smirking. I’ll take that fucking smirk right now. I feel like I’m going to puke.
“What am I getting?”
Stone’s eyes widen. “You’re asking me?”
I nod. He considers the question.
“Shoulder piece,” he tells him. I look at him like he’s nuts. “Least painful area. Trust me.”
“Oh God. I need a drink.”
“Here you go.” Johnny hands me a small bottle and I don’t even stop to check what it is before I take a big drink.
“Have a seat right here,” Consolo tells me. “So, what were you thinking about getting?” I look to Stone again.
“Something pretty. Like her.”
“Like some badass florals? Bright colors?”
“Actually, I like the black and gray. Like yours,” I say, looking at Stone.
“All right. I’ll go draw up the stencil. You’ll need to take off that shirt so I can get to your shoulder.”
Of course. I nod as he turns to walk off.
“You getting any tonight, Hammer?”
Stone shakes his head. He moves to sit on the stool beside me as I look at him questioningly.
“Hammer?”
“Fight name. Nobody calls me that anymore.”
I nod in understanding. “They called Damon, Demon. Does everyone have a fight name?”
“Usually. Me and my brother have had one since we started. Just something that happens I guess. They try not to use real names.”
“What’s Thorn’s name?”
“Prick. It’s fitting, believe me.”
This makes me laugh, even though talking about it saddens me a little. I exhale a heavy breath and stand from the chair, unbuttoning my cardigan and slipping it off before working on the buttons of my dress shirt. Stone’s eyes drift from the skin of my stomach, up over my navel, following my fingers with every release of a button. When I open it completely, letting it fall down my shoulders and revealing the sheer lace of my bra, he pulls in his bottom lip fractionally, jaw working it over as his eyes drill into me.
I feel breathless and for a moment I forget there is a room full of people, most not even batting an eye, but then Kane and Tracen are whistling as they walk toward us. I see Stones jaw flex as he swallows thickly.
“Damn, we get a strip tease. Maybe you should stay, Tracen,” Kane teases, putting his fist in his mouth. I smile because I can’t help it, and it releases a little of the heaviness I’m carrying.
“Me and Kelli were about to split, but hell yeah.”
“Where are you two running off to?” I ask, looking over his shoulder as Kelli sits on the arm of the sofa in the lounge area with the other crewmembers.
“Thought we get some fresh air, take a drive. Since I gave up my chair, at least I could spend a little time keeping your friend company.” Each one of these guys are so different in most ways, but so similar in others.
Consolo walks up with the stencil, wiping my arm down with alcohol. He presses the paper to my arm and I’m shocked to see how much space it covers. He pulls the paper away from my skin slowly, turning me to look in the mirror.
“You like where it is? The size?” I look at myself, liking the way the flowers look on my skin. I nod, looking up at Stone who nods in approval. “Okay. Have a seat and get comfortable. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour.” I straddle the chair and turn my head to face Stone where he sits on a stool beside me. When the needle contacts my skin, Stone is the last thing I see before closing my eyes and leaving them that way throughout.
“All right, see what you think,” Consolo says, taking one last swipe at the newly inked tattoo on my skin. I push off the seat, feeling like at some point my body became one with the leather chair. Stone takes my hand and helps me bring my leg over from where I have been straddling it for the last hour.
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“God, I feel like I’ve been riding a horse across the desert in Mexico.” I’m sure I sound ridiculous, but it’s true. My legs feel bowed and the tequila warms my skin. When we step in front of the floor length mirror against the wall, I’m taken aback by my appearance as much as I am the tattoo. The skin at my cheeks and chest flushed, dressed in a black skirt and a bra, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me, but I like her. She looks like she’s living life, not holding back.
I turn to the side and really look at the art etched on my skin. The stencil didn’t do this justice.
“You’re talented. I think it’s the prettiest piece of art I’ve ever seen.” I turn to look at him instead of the mirror. “And my mom owns a gallery in the art district.” He curtsies and I laugh.
“My pleasure,” he replies. I grab my shirt from the chair.
“I’m going to go freshen up.”
“Here, let me put this bandage over it before you put your shirt on.” He stands and wipes some cream across the tattoo before cutting a bandage to cover it. I feel Stone’s eyes on me, so I look away from my arm and up to Stone. Like an Adonis, he stands tall and so stunning that I almost forget that we know each other so intimately.
“The bathrooms are at the back,” Consolo says. I blink, breaking my thoughts and grabbing my shirt from the chair before crossing the room to the back.
When I close the bathroom door behind me, I could fill a dozen balloons with the breath I release. I’m walking a tightrope between right and wrong. When I’m around him, I second guess everything. I think about Madi and what she would think if she were here and met him.
But mostly, I think about how I’m drawn to him like a magnet. How I ache to feel what else he has in store for my body, and how it’s been at the forefront of my mind for weeks.
“Lydia?” His voice comes from the other side of the door, and just like that my heart jumps. Without caring his reason or asking questions, I crack the door open, shielding myself behind it as he slides in. His lips are parted like he’s prepared to say something, but when his eyes finally land on me, instead of words I hear his breath catch. We’ve gotten good at these long stretches of silence that scream what neither of us will say.