I frowned, “I trust you. I guess.”
Chapter 33
The days after I ended things with Damon were intensely painful for me. I knew what the best, most logical choice was. But like the alcoholic who swears off booze the morning after a particularly nasty night of puking drunk-dom, stopping my Damon addiction cold turkey was equally as difficult.
I marveled at the irony of how, yet again, Seth Thomas had charged in, all knight in shining armor-like to save my pathetic ass. Was there a special alert system that I was unaware of which let him know whenever I needed help? Like the bat signal did for Batman? Had aliens unknowingly embedded some sort of microchip under my skin that went off like tornado sirens whenever I was headed down the road to Stupidville?
I sat on the edge of the bathtub shaving my legs when the blue butterfly tattoo on my inner wrist caught my attention. It was a beautiful, yet heartbreaking reminder of how the one year anniversary of Brad’s accident was quickly approaching. I traced my index finger along the intricate wings and Brad’s gap-toothed grin floated into my awareness.
“Knock-knock?” Shelley called out.
“In here,” I told her. When she walked in, I held up my wrist. “What was that thing Brad always used to say? Something about not being with the one you love, but loving the one you’re with?”
“Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. Love the One You’re With,” she answered. “Why?”
A trace of a smile played with the corners of my mouth, “I’m going to have that tattooed on my wrist next to the butterfly in honor of Brad. Sort of a permanent memorial.”
Shelley’s eyes crinkled with a smile and she nodded in agreement, “Rockin’ idea Jaq.”
“I know, right!” I smiled, pretty proud of myself.
“Shannon will be here in about an hour,” she said over her shoulder as she left. “Be ready, okay?”
“Are you sure you guys don’t mind me tagging along?” I asked.
“Every time,” Shelley muttered and I could almost hear the eye-roll in her voice. “Shut up and get ready.”
I chuckled at her response. It had been forever since I’d actually left the house on a Saturday night to go anywhere fun, and I was looking forward to going to the little hole-in-the-wall bar to watch karaoke with Shelley and her older sister. Shannon wasn’t a drinker, so she volunteered to be our driver for the night.
The bar was pretty much a dive, but it was cozy in a smoky, sweaty, hayseed kind of way. I liked it because we were about twenty-five miles away from any other place I’d been known to hang out in the past.
We grabbed a booth near the stage, and Shannon went to get us something to drink. I scanned the Stetson wearing crowd and said with a grin, “Someone needs to tell these people this is Missouri, not Texas.”
Shelley giggled and nudged me with her elbow, “You hush up now,” she said with a pathetically fake southern twang. “You know what they say about riding a cowboy.”
I rolled my eyes and snorted, “You’re so bad.”
“Ha! Just wait ‘til you hear me sing,” she told me with a wicked smirk across her face.
“Oh dear God. I have heard you sing and seriously? You could use some lessons,” I informed my extremely tone deaf friend.
“Whatever. You’re just jealous,” she stuck her lower lip out into a mock pout.
“Yeah, that would be a no,” I laughed and shook my head. I had started to forget my problems already and with a little booze in my bloodstream, I was sure I’d feel good all over by the end of the night.
“Don’t look now,” Shannon whispered when she returned to our table carrying a tray with two beers, two shots, and something virginal for her. We leaned closer to hear her over the crowd and she continued, “But there is one extremely doable young dude with a cowboy hat sitting up at the bar right now.”
Why is it that “don’t look now” always makes people look now?
“Shan, in case you haven’t noticed, ‘dude with a cowboy hat’ doesn’t exactly narrow things down,” Shelley commented and sprinkled salt on the back of her hand for her shot.
Shannon slid into the booth across from me, “Shelley? Don’t you worry about it. Hot guys with tight, mouth-watering bodies, and killer smiles? So off limits for you little sis,” she winked at me and clinked her soda glass against my beer bottle. “What do you think Jaq? Game on?”
I tipped my beer back and washed down the tequila with a big gulp, “I think I’ll sit this night out, but you go for it Shan,” I laughed. She tugged the front of her top down, exposing a little more of her ample cleavage and shimmied side to side a couple times causing me to snort involuntarily.
“Jesus Shan! How old are we now, twelve?” Shelley rolled her eyes and hissed, “You’re thirty-two. Don’t you think these boys are a little young for you?” It was no secret Shannon liked younger men — a fact which never failed to creep Shelley out. Picking up any man wasn’t in my cards; I was strictly on a window shopping expedition for the night.
I couldn’t remember when I’d laughed so much or had such a good time, and it was wholly liberating. Several shots and beers later, I started to loosen up a little bit. I licked the salt from my lips and peered into the smoke-filled haze of the crowded room, my eyes focused on a guy bent over the pool table. I’d been covertly watching him for awhile. He had buzzed blonde hair and liquid green eyes and I was starting to toy with the idea of challenging him to a game of pool.
He caught me leering openly gawking at him, and our eyes locked. He nodded his head in my direction and smiled, revealing a perfect set of whiter than white teeth. My cheeks flushed and I’m pretty sure part of my icy reserve started to melt into a puddle under his hot gaze. Feeling more brave than smart, I grabbed my beer and started to slide out of the booth. Shelley put her hand on my arm, “Where are you going?”
“That pool table has been calling my name all night,” I informed her.
Her grip tightened, “You might want to wipe the drool off your chin before you introduce yourself to, um, the pool table.”
I walked to the pool table, hoping I looked more confident than I felt. I put my quarters on the table and smiled at White-Teeth, “Let me know when I’m up.” I turned to walk back to the booth when I heard him say, “Hey, you might as well wait here. I’m almost done kicking Jared’s ass.”
I shrugged, “Okay, sure.” I walked over to stand next to him. “I’m Jaq, by the way.”
“Harold,” he smiled. Harold? Really? Who names their son Harold? As though he heard my unspoken jabs about his name, he said, “I’m named after my dad. My friends call me Junior.”
“And just so you know? Junior is taken,” a female’s whiney baby voice said from somewhere behind me. I turned to face the poster child for skank, who was shooting daggers at me through bloodshot eyes. She brushed past me and stood possessively between Junior and me. “So back the fuck off.”
I held up my hands, “I don’t want any trouble. I just want to shoot some pool.” Roughly translated: I did want to have hot sweaty sex with Harold on the pool table until I saw your skanky ass. Now, I just want to crawl under the pool table and disappear.
“Not with my man, you’re not,” she said.
I shrugged and said, “No problem.” I swiped my money off the table and slithered back to the booth with my imaginary tail tucked between my legs.
“What?” I glared at Shelley’s smirking face.
“I was getting ready to take off my shoes,” she giggled. “I thought for sure there was going to be a cat fight. Damn.”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I mumbled.
That was my initiation back into the land of the living. One night did not mean I was ready to get back on my bicycle and ride, but it was a start.
Chapter 34
The last time I’d been inside Infinite Ink, Brad was still alive and hard at work doing a huge back piece on some guy fresh out of Afghanistan. The familiar buzzing of tattoo machines quieted in sync when I walked throu
gh the front door. The owner, Libby, glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through, “Jaq, hey sweetie pie. Long time no see!” Her voice was deep and gravely from too many cigarettes.
“Hi Libby,” I smiled self-consciously under her scrutinizing gaze. She’d been like a mom to Brad and knew we had been close.
“What can I do you for honey?” she asked. Libby moved up here from Louisiana a few years ago and she was all about the honey, sweetie, and baby doll salutations. When I held out my wrist and explained to her what I wanted, a faint smile tugged at her mouth, but her eyes glistened sadly. She nodded and hollered at some guy named Vance to help me out.
I turned as the sound of footsteps approached. Holy hell. Vance was hot. His eyes peeked out beneath a fringe of bangs and he asked me to follow him. We worked out all the details and I got comfy in the chair. “You weren’t here the last time I came in,” I said.
“Nope,” he continued messing with the caps of ink and adjusted the lighting. “I took his spot.” My eyebrows drew into a frown, and I wasn’t sure what he meant. When he noticed the confusion on my face he pointed to the tattoo on my wrist. “Brad’s spot.”
My mouth formed a silent “O.”
Vance went to work and I tried not to think about the multiple needles dragging through the tender skin of my inner arm. Occasionally, the bell over the door chimed the arrival of a new customer who wanted to add either more holes in their body or more color to their skin. It was just a normal reaction to glance in the direction of the door each time. “Ah shit,” I muttered when I caught glimpse of the latest customer.
Vance looked up and snorted, “You know Damon?” My stomach turned inside out, and I squirmed in the chair.
“Yeah you could say that,” I sighed. I had come to terms with Damon not being a part of my life, and his calls and text messages had stopped, so I figured he’d given up. With any luck at all he wouldn’t see me, and I wouldn’t have to test my willpower. It was one thing to quietly get over Damon by not seeing or talking to him. But meeting face to face was going to suck, I was sure of it.
“All done,” Vance sat back on his stool and peeled off his latex gloves. “What do you think?”
My tongue felt three sizes too big for my mouth and I tried to find my voice, “Looks great,” I finally managed.
“Damon’s my three o’clock,” Vance said.
I nodded, “Okay, yeah sure,” and pushed to my feet. I hoped my wobbly legs would hold me up, but I teetered off balance for an instant. My hip bumped into his floor lamp, sending it clattering noisily to the tiled floor.
He reached to steady me, “Hey are you okay?”
I gave him a weak smile, “I’m fine. I must have stood up too fast.”
I handed him the cash for his work and shot a hopeful glance toward Damon and Libby, praying they hadn’t heard the racket. No such luck. Libby raised her eyebrows and looked over her glasses in my direction. Damon folded his arms in front of his chest and a shit-eating grin lit up his eyes. I got this. I so got this. I can’t do this. Fuck. I am so screwed.
Damon’s eyes burned into me with one of his panty shedding smiles and dammit to hell if I didn’t feel myself smile back. “Long time no see Jaq,” he said softly.
Not long enough. “Damon,” I nodded and moved past him to slip out the door.
He stepped in front of me and planted his hands on my shoulders. When I didn’t meet his eyes, he tipped my chin up with his index finger, “I’ve missed you. How have you been?”
“I ca-can’t do this Damon,” I stumbled over my words with a tongue that was just as twisted as my stomach felt. “I need to go.”
“Awe Jaq, give me five minutes?” he pleaded. I shook my head slowly. “Just five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” He leaned around me and hollered back at Vance, “Hey bro, give me five? I’ll be right back.”
Like an obedient child, I kept my head down. I shuffled silently in front of Damon as he placed his hand on my lower back and guided me out the door. Outside, he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me softly on top of the head. “Baby, I’ve been dying without you,” he whispered into my hair.
I’ve missed you too. “Damon, we’re not good together,” I said. I found the courage to face him and to my horror, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Oh shit, now what?
“Baby, we were good together and you know it,” he sighed. “My temper just gets out of control sometimes. I swear I won’t lay a hand on you ever again. Just give me one more chance. If I fuck up, you can castrate me.”
I tipped my head back and laughed, “Can I get that in writing?”
His eyes went wide as golf balls and he moved his hands protectively in front of his package, “If that’s what it takes for you to give me another try, then hell yeah,”
I blew out a noisy breath and looked skyward, “Shelley’s so going to kick my ass for this.”
“I’m going four-wheelin’ tonight with some buddies out on Cemetery Hill Road. Be my co-pilot? Please?” he pleaded.
I scrunched my nose, “Co-pilot? Really?”
He laughed, “You know what I mean.”
Damon and I worked out the details. I knew Shelley would secure me to the kitchen chair with duct tape if she suspected I’d even talked to Damon Blackwell. We agreed to meet in the grocery store parking lot just around the corner from my house. I told him I’d walk over about six.
He pulled me hard against his chest, and his familiar scent crept into my senses, blotting out all rational thought. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
“You better be right, or,” I narrowed my eyes and said, “Snip, snip.”
Chapter 35
I waved my freshly tattooed wrist beneath Shelley’s nose, “I did it,” I quipped proudly.
She scrutinized the new ink, “Looks good. I like the font. Who did it?”
“Vance-somebody, at Infinite Ink.”
“Brad would be proud,” she whispered before dropping my hand. “Where are you off to tonight?”
“Nowhere,” I lied. I felt my cheeks immediately start to burn and hoped Shelley wouldn’t call me out on it. She was like a terrier sent to ground after a rodent when it came to flushing out the truth, and she knew when I was being less than honest. Always.
Her eyes narrowed, “Right. I buy that,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.
I shrugged, “Let me rephrase that, nowhere important.” I tugged my hoodie down over my head and grabbed the house key from the hook by the door, anxious to get away from the twenty questions I knew she was busy formulating with her detective-like brain.
I spotted Damon’s truck in the parking lot as soon as I rounded the corner. He stood next to it; feet crossed at his ankles looking as hot as ever. My stomach pinched when I thought about how dangerous he could be. I wasn’t going to think about that. I was willing to give him a fresh start, another chance to be a good bad boy.
Damon lifted his arm and waved. There was a grin on his face that revealed a mixture of both relief and surprise as I approached. “You showed up,” he said and held out his hand toward me.
The corner of my mouth rose into a half-smirk, “I said I would, didn’t I?” He hugged me against his broad chest and my senses began to flood with the same sexy Damon scent I had always found so intoxicating. It had been awhile, but I swore he was every bit as smoldering hot as I remembered.
He opened the driver’s side door and boosted me up into the cab. I scooted over as far as the middle. I ached for the heat of his body against mine, not because I was cold, but because he lit up my senses with just his touch and I craved the closeness. Damon had always reminded me of a couple of Bon Jovi songs like Bad Medicine, and he definitely gave love a bad name. His leg brushed against mine, and his hand claimed my thigh as though he owned it. I made no attempt to remove it and he grinned sideways at me with a devil-may-care wink.
His hand crept ever so close to the off-limits zone as we sped down the highway toward Cemetery Hill Road. I
promised myself I would not have sex with Damon tonight. He needed to earn it first. What lesson would he learn if I let him have his way the first time we were alone?
I rested my hand on top of his and nudged it a few inches closer to my knee and away from my crotch. He chuckled, “Damn Jaq, I’ve missed your feisty ass.”
“That so?” I squeezed his hand and mentally began to pluck the bad times out of my memory banks as though they happened to someone else — in some other place and time. I mean, people change, right?
As soon as we got to our destination, I took in all of the trucks parked at the bottom of the hill. Out of habit, I suppose. I don’t think I did it because I was interested in sizing up the competition for our night of four-wheelin’. Subconsciously, maybe I was looking for a certain truck belonging to a certain blue-eyed, baseball cap wearing used-to-be-mine guy.
“I doubt he’ll be here tonight, Jaq,” Damon muttered. “I hear his wife keeps a pretty tight leash around his balls.”
My head snapped in his direction, “I’m not looking for anybody.”
Damon tipped his head back and laughed, “That’s okay baby, I know you still have it bad for Seth Thomas. Even if the fucker is married.” My mouth popped open as he slid the truck sideways, coming to a stop a few inches from the bumper of one of the other pickups parked nearby. Damon smirked at me and hopped down from the cab before I could recover my senses and defend myself.
I’d forgotten how much fun four-wheelin’ was and it had been a long time since I’d laughed so hard. It wasn’t too far into the night before I began to let down my defenses and started to relax in Damon’s company. He was in a good mood, and as long as I didn’t do anything to piss him off, I knew the night wouldn’t end with him smacking me around.
Later when we were on our way back home, Damon abruptly hit the brakes and swung the truck off the main highway onto a narrow gravel lane. I frowned over at him, “What are you doing?”
“My back teeth are floating. I gotta take a piss,” he muttered.
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