Ah. “How much trouble?” She kept the question light, no censure in her tone. She didn’t want to risk him closing down on her again.
“Enough to land me in juvie for a couple of months. Vandalism, petty theft, that kind of thing. It would have been a lot worse if my probation officer hadn’t yanked my head out of my ass.”
“If you were fourteen, we’re talking twelve years ago, right? This is your big, dark secret, Garrett? Your life went to hell when you were a kid and you acted out a bit.”
He spun around, glaring at her. “Acted out? I’m a fucking thief, Aubrey.” He looked so serious that she had to force herself not to laugh.
“When we go downstairs later, you are going to meet a lot of people I grew up with. Do you know how much trouble a bunch of spoiled, rich kids can get into? A group of girls in my Sophomore class formed a shop-lifting ring. I know of at least three others who would have been charged with a DUI if their daddies hadn’t lawyered up. I hate to burst your bubble, darling, but you’re a rank amateur compared to most of my peers.”
Garrett ran his hands through his hair, knocking his carefully combed quiff out of place, sending strands of black tumbling across his forehead. “This isn’t a joke.”
Cursing the restrictions of her dress once more, she shuffled across the room to him. “Look at me.” She tugged his hands away from his face and cupped his jaw. “It’s not a joke. I’m so sorry about what happened to you, but it doesn’t make one ounce of difference to how I feel about you. I see you, Garrett. I see the man you are, the way you run your business with care, the love you have for your family. That’s what matters to me.”
“I’m an asshole.” He dragged her into his arms, and she clung to him, laughing.
“Yes, you are, Garrett Chase. But you’re my asshole.”
Chapter Nine
Garrett zipped his fly, then crossed to the sink to wash his hands. The marbled washstands held individual dispensers of hand soap and moisturizer bearing the ubiquitous labels of one of Hollywood’s biggest stars. The no-touch taps bore a discreet flash of red and blue. A large wicker basket contained individually rolled hand-towels in complementary shades of brown and olive. Even the fucking bathroom was trying to intimidate him.
He checked his hair in the mirror. He couldn’t do much about the shaved sides, but he’d secured the rest of it at the nape of his neck. The suit looked good, he had to admit. Recalling the open appreciation in Aubrey’s eyes when he’d showed up at her door, he grinned. He wished he could say the same about the hideous, ruffled gown her beautiful curves had been forced into.
Most of his concerns about the evening had proven unfounded. Yes, he’d sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, even contemplated driving away. But a serious face-to-face with himself in the rearview mirror had kicked his ass into action. His days of thumbing his nose at society were behind him. He knew himself; knew he was more than the sum of his ink and the denim he favored. Standing out from the herd had seemed important when he was younger. Look at me, I’m not like you. I’m an individual, I’ll do what the fuck I want. Viewed from a distance, it now seemed like a lot of unnecessary bullshit.
Aubrey needed him today. He’d seen it in her face every time she looked at herself in that disaster of a dress her sister had forced upon her. The woman he loved needed him, and whatever insecurities he might be feeling were his problem, not hers. He’d already put too much of his own crap on her, and she’d taken it with a gentle humor he didn’t deserve. He needed to be better; needed to be a man worthy of her. And that had fuck all to do with the financial disparity between them. It still burned that his grandfather had sold his car to cover the first mortgage payment, but they still had the bar, and Kenny Ross would not win. His family had kicked his ass over Aubrey until he’d finally confessed why she wasn’t around. Pop had suggested they ask about borrowing the money from her Trust rather than taking it as an outright gift. It was a sensible compromise, one he’d been too proud and too scared to see for himself, and he planned to approach her about it tomorrow.
It surprised him how much he liked her family. Her mom was a pill, but the rest of them were okay. Her dad had shaken his hand, shown a genuine interest in Chase’s, even suggested the immediate family drop by for Sunday brunch one week. And then there was Aunt Amy. He’d been seated next to her for the ceremony, and was already half-way in love with the feisty woman. Her pointed observations had sent him coughing into his napkin more than once, and the adoration his Aubrey felt for her was clearly returned.
The bathroom door swung open, and Kenny strolled in, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his cheeks. The black tuxedo he wore looked a little tight, as though he’d gained a few pounds since the last time he’d worn it. The winged collar on his dress shirt dug into the beginning of a double-chin. Too much gel shone in his hair. Asshole.
Just what I fucking need.
Taking one of the olive towels, Garrett dried his hands, then tossed the luxurious cotton square into a large hamper on his left. He took a step toward the door, halting when he realized Kenny hadn’t moved. A confrontation was the last thing he wanted, the last thing Aubrey needed. He could imagine the reaction from the other guests if the bit of rough the maid of honor had brought as her date punched the best man. Tucking his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, Garrett forced a smile. “The ceremony went well.” Bland, inane, the kind of innocuous comment passed at any wedding between relative strangers.
“She buy that suit for you, too?” Kenny sneered, looking him up and down. Disdain and something else shone in his eyes— anger.
Aubrey said they’d never dated seriously. He might not like the idea of them together, but as far as Garrett could figure, he didn’t have grounds for jealousy. “My wardrobe choices are hardly any of your business, Kenny. If you’ll step out of my way, I can get back to my table. I don’t want to miss the dessert course. I hear the syllabub is sublime.” He didn’t give a shit about syllabub, wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he’d heard the remark from one of the guests seated behind him.
“You should have more pride, man. All those hot pieces of ass coming into your bar every night, you could have your pick, I’m sure. Fucking the fat girl just to get your hands on her money. That’s low.” Kenny shook his head.
Anger surged through Garrett, but he refused to give the idiot the satisfaction of knowing he’d upset him. “Aubrey is beautiful; one of the sexiest women I have ever been fortunate enough to date. Her money is exactly that, hers.” Shouldering the other man out of the way, he exited the bathroom.
“And yet your Granddaddy’s mortgage got paid off.” Kenny dogged his heels. “Did a little digging around and what did I find? Gramps mortgaged to the hilt to pay for your bar. Davey at the bank is an old friend of mine, and I often buy the mortgages he holds. Everyone else got a little hike in rates. I need to turn a profit after all. I wanted to teach you a lesson about messing with your betters though. Should’ve known you’d go crawling to that bitch.”
Garrett fought the wave of light-headedness washing over him. Aubrey had gone behind his back and paid off the mortgage? He waited for the outrage to hit, for his fragile ego to rail and roar against the humiliation of having his girlfriend settle his debt.
And waited.
Calm settled over him. The problem was solved. He could walk away and never speak to Kenny Ross again. He would repay Aubrey, of course. Would set up a payment program and replenish her trust. Hadn’t he already decided to ask her to help them out? They would need that money in the future. College funds, doctor bills, all that shit cost a ton.
Deciding he’d better consult his future wife before he planned their entire future, he rolled the last of the tension from his shoulders. Kenny stared at him. The lack of expected reaction had wiped the spiteful sneer off his face. Flashing him a shit-eating grin, Garrett closed the distance between them until they stood nose-to-nose. “You lost, Kenny.”
A scuff of noise drew his attenti
on away, and he saw Aubrey frozen in the doorway of the ladies’ bathroom, her Aunt Amy right behind her. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Garrett. I didn’t pay him.”
Kenny scoffed in his ear. “Ask her how come there is a payment from A. Jensen for the exact balance of the mortgage in my account then.”
Her frown deepened. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
“I did.” Aunt Amy pushed her niece gently out of the way and stepped toward them. Aubrey’s great aunt folded her hands across her chest, gimlet eyes fixed upon him. “You’ve been foolish enough, Garrett, rejecting her reasonable offer for help just to save your pride.”
“Aunt Amy,” Aubrey hissed, hobbling over to tug on her aunt’s elbow.
“Hush, darling. Did you think I would tolerate you weeping into my lap for hours and not hold him to account?”
Bile burned in the back of Garrett’s throat. “I made you cry?” He pulled Aubrey close to him, and she settled into his side.
“It doesn’t matter now.” It damn well did, but they would talk about it later. He would spend hours making it up to her, give her a kiss for every tear she’d shed over him.
Amy cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “I haven’t finished with you, young man.” He hid a smile, keeping his eyes downcast. Aubrey’s great aunt barely cleared five feet in her stylish heels, but he wouldn’t put it past her to box his ears if she felt so inclined. “After Aubrey came to see me, I made some enquiries. Your grandfather proved most amenable when I approached him.” A smile quirked one corner of her mouth. There was something very unsettling about her smile, something well satisfied. He shied away from the direction his thoughts were taking.
“What are you saying, Aunt Amy?” Aubrey looked as bemused as he felt.
“I called Don and introduced myself. We met up and reached a mutually satisfying agreement. I gave him the money to pay off this spiteful little toad, and he agreed to repay me at the same monthly rate as the original loan you had with the bank.” She stroked a hand through her hair, head tilted at a coquettish angle. “Your grandfather is a very charming man.”
“You and Pop?” Garrett gulped. His brain fled to a corner of his skull, refusing point blank to process this latest information. Aubrey turned her face into his neck to smother a laugh. He held her close, loving the soft weight of her against his body.
Needing to change the subject, he rounded on Kenny. “What I don’t understand is why you went to so much trouble? Couples break up all the time, and from what Aubrey told me, you weren’t exactly in love with her.”
His rounded cheeks puffed out as he hissed through his teeth. “Do you think I did this because I’m jealous this fat slut let you fuck her when she wouldn’t give me the time of day? I was never interested in her, just her money.”
If Aubrey hadn’t wrapped her arms around him to hold him in place, Garrett would have buried his fist in the bastard’s face. “But you have money, how else did you afford to buy those mortgages?”
A fleck of spittle formed at the corner of Kenny’s mouth, and Garrett swore to himself that if one fleck hit him, then all bets were off. “That’s not my money. Ross Financial is my father’s company. The old man is as tight as a drum, and I’m sick and tired of being his whipping boy. With Aubrey’s inheritance, I would’ve been able to do whatever I wanted.”
“And I would’ve gotten away with it, if it weren’t for you pesky kids.” Aubrey murmured. Garrett barked a laugh at her dry observation. She was right. Kenny sounded as pathetic and delusional as a Scooby-Doo villain. “Do you want to get out of here?” she whispered.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered.
“Go on, you two.” Aunt Amy shooed them away with her hand, a sly smile on her face. “I think I’m going to wander over and see my old friends, Betsy and Colin Ross. I haven’t chatted with them in an age.”
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as he led her across the car park to where he’d left his truck. It stood out among the sleek sedans and sports cars, like a scruffy mongrel among a pack of pedigree dogs. He’d assumed she wanted to return to her room upstairs, but she’d asked him to take her home, and he was more than happy to do so.
Aubrey stopped next to the passenger door and gave him her back. “Get me out of this damn dress,” she demanded, pressing her hips back to grind her ass against him. He yanked the zipper down, dragging the ugly pink satin from her delicious curves. Palming her ass, he urged her into the truck and climbed in after her, pausing on the step-up to dig a condom out of his wallet.
The moment his butt hit the seat, she was in his lap, pressing kisses to his face as she tugged his belt buckle open. He tried to slow her down, tried to pet and caress her, but she wouldn’t be deterred. Surrendering to her will, he lifted his hips when she tugged his pants and boxer briefs down. She plucked the condom from his fingers, rolled it over the head of his straining cock, and set herself over him. “Say it again, Garrett. Tell me you think you love me.” She hooked her panties to one side and sank down, taking him to the hilt inside the soaking heat of her sex.
“I know I love you, Aubrey. I love you so fucking much.” He cupped her bare breasts, massaging her nipples to stiff peaks.
“I love you too, Garrett, and that’s all that matters,” she sighed, rocking her hips. Pulling her close, he captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss. Trust his Aubrey to cut right through to the truth.
Acknowledgments
This title was first published as part of the Curved Lines Anthology. I was thrilled to be invited to participate in that project. It was my first experience of collaborating as part of a box set and my sincere thanks go to Amie, Dawn, Jodi, Lex, Dee, Dee, Kathryn, Tilly and Michelle for making it such a wonderful, and educational experience.
My story was very loosely inspired by a certain icon 80’s movie with a similar title. It influenced me a great deal when I first saw it as a teenager, and the thing that always struck me was how the real love story was about the heroine falling in love with herself.
Understanding who you are, and what you will and won’t accept in life is one of the most crucial stages we go through and I wanted Pretty in Ink to reflect Aubrey coming to terms with herself and refusing to compromise on the kind of relationship she wants and deserves.
Thank you so much for reading. If you want to find out about my other stories, you can find me in all the usual places on Social Media:
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Best Wishes
Merryn x
About the Author
Merryn Dexter is a military spouse who, after a varied employment career (from selling sandals to old ladies with bunions to being a health and safety coordinator for a construction company), is thrilled to be pursuing her dream career as a romance writer. She likes The Winchesters, Spike, Hotch, Loki and watching complicated European Noir. Her hobbies include crying at books, crying at movies, crying at television serials (there’s a theme!) and believes all stories should have a Happy Ending.
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Also by the Author
Black Hills Wolves multi-author series
A Mate’s Healing Touch
A Mate’s Redeeming Touch
Mating Dance
A Mate’s Forgiving Touch
Wiccan Haus multi-author series
Soul of Flame
Renewed Spirits
Hot Moon Rising multi-author series
Silver Moon
Hunger Moon
Anthologies and Collections
Shifters and Spice
Coming Soon
Starstruck Holidays - A MM Sci-Fi Anthology
PRETTY IN INK
Copyright © 2016 Merryn Dexter
Edited by NV Editing
Cover art by Marisa Shor / Cover Me, Darling
License Notes
> This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
Publisher’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products 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.
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