Ashes & Embers Series Collection (Books 1 to 4)

by Carian Cole

  “That really sucks. I’m sorry.”

  I hug myself against the cold chill in the air. “Thanks. I thought we’d be married forever, ya know? I didn’t think I’d be dumped at thirty-six for the first younger, gorgeous girl that gave my husband a little bit of attention. I guess our vows and our family meant more to me than to him.”

  “He’s a fool.”

  “Maybe, or maybe I’m the fool, thinking I’d be living that fairytale of happily ever after.”

  Lukas opens my car door for me. “Nah, don’t give up on that. You know how fairytales go. You gotta kiss some frogs before you find the prince, right?”

  I laugh as I climb into my car. “Hey, I didn’t think guys knew about fairytales,” I tease.

  He grins down at me, holding on to the doorframe. “I’m not like most guys, Ivy. See ya in two weeks.” He pushes my door shut, and I watch him walk across the parking lot back to his shop, when he turns around about halfway and gives me a little wave. Blushing, I wave back at him as I start my car. Hot damn, he’s cute.

  CHAPTER 5

  LUKAS

  I’LL BE HONEST, I remember most of my clients by the design I put on them. All their actual names and faces kinda mesh together in my mind. It’s the canvas of their flesh I remember forever. But tonight, Ivy’s coming back, and I’m actually looking forward to seeing her again, which is unlike me because I don’t usually form any attachments to my clients. Of course, I enjoy working with them, but I’m usually so focused on my designs that I’m lucky if I can remember anything else about them at all. Something about Ivy is different, though. From the moment I met her, it was like getting struck by lightning, and I haven’t been able to get that chick out of my mind.

  Right before Ivy’s appointment, I make a last-minute decision to run upstairs to my apartment above the shop to put a clean shirt on and wash my face. Just as I’m coming down the spiral staircase from my place to the back of the shop, the front door cowbell sounds. I find her in the waiting room, looking at some artwork on the wall, her back to me. She’s short, petite and curvy, with long wavy auburn hair that I suddenly have an urge to take in my hands and feel it glide through my fingers like silk. It looks like she came directly from work this time, because she’s wearing a black pants suit instead of jeans.

  “Hey,” I say, and when she turns and smiles at me, I get that zappy feeling inside again.

  “Hey, yourself. This drawing is beautiful. Did you do this?” She gestures to a charcoal drawing of a dragon perched on a mountain that I drew about five years ago.

  “I did.”

  She looks back at it and then at me again. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I wish I could draw.”

  “Thanks. I’ve always loved to draw, even as a little kid,” I say. “You want to come on back?”

  She nods and I lead her back to my work area and take the sketch of her artwork out of a big folder on my table.

  “So how’s it looking and feeling?” I ask. “Everything okay?”

  She beams. “I love it. It’s so pretty. I think I spent way too much time looking at it. It was sore for a few days and then got really itchy, just like you said, but I promise I didn’t touch it.”

  I grin at her. “Awesome. Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll get ready?”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  When she comes back, I have to smile at how different she looks wearing a faded t-shirt, black cotton shorts, and white socks, compared to the business outfit and high heels she had on a few minutes ago. She’s adorable.

  “What?” she asks, noticing me eyeing her as she’s climbing onto the tattoo chair.

  “I love how you went from looking all professional to cute in five minutes flat.”

  Her cheeks redden at my words. “Well, thanks. I had to work late, so I didn’t have time to change first.”

  I gently run my hand over the design on her outer thigh, visually mapping out what I want to do for this appointment. I should have put gloves on before I touched her, but I didn’t, because I wanted to feel her, and just as I imagined, her skin is soft and warm. A quick fantasy of me running my hands up her naked thighs flashes through my mind.

  “You could have cancelled if you were having a bad day. I would have understood,” I say, reluctantly pulling my hand away from her porcelain skin and swiveling the stool around to grab the gun off my table.

  “No, I wanted to come,” she lays down on the chair and stretches her legs out. For someone so short, she has some damn sexy legs on her. “I’ve been looking forward to this. Plus, my son is with his father for the weekend, and my daughter had plans tonight, so I would have just sat home in an empty house anyway.”

  Leaning carefully over her body with the tattoo gun in my hand, I realize how bummed I would have been if she had cancelled. “I’m glad you came,” I admit, glancing up at her. She catches my gaze and then quickly looks away. Her shyness intrigues me even more. “So, how have you been?” I ask, hoping some conversation will help her relax a little. I can feel by how taut her body is that she’s wound up like a top.

  “Good. Crazy busy at work, as always, but I like it because it makes the time go by and keeps my mind busy so I can’t dwell on things. “

  “I like that, too. Things have been really busy here the past few weeks, and I love it. I’m never bored.”

  “Do you work here alone?” she asks.

  “No. My brother, Vandal, works here, too, but he’s also in a band, so sometimes he’s not able to come in for a while if he’s practicing or on tour. I may have to hire someone else to help keep up with all the appointments we have.”

  “That’s great. So many small businesses are struggling right now. It’s a nice change to hear that someone is doing well.”

  “So true. I feel very blessed and lucky.” I gently turn her to her side a little bit and bend her knee up so I can get a better angle, and the feeling of my arm leaning against her bare thigh sends a rush of heat to my cock. Fuck me. I never get turned on when I work on a female client. Ever. I shake my hair out of my eyes and peek up at her, but she seems lost in her own thoughts.

  “Speaking of small business, I have to find someone to come and fix the roof on my shed. During the last snow storm, a big icicle pulled a few of the shingles right off,” she says, oblivious to my attraction to her. “Paul was still coming by to do little things like that, but I guess, obviously, he’s not going to keep doing stuff around the house now that he’s shacked up with someone else.”

  “I take it Paul is your ex-husband?”

  “Yes. Now, he’s saying we may have to sell the house, too, because he moved into a new expensive condo with his girlfriend. It’s really stressing me out.”

  “Shit,” I say, feeling the muscles in her leg tightening as she gets more upset. “That sucks.” Her ex-husband sounds like a first-class asshole to me.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I’m venting to you. It’s just been one of those weeks, ya know? And I guess I’m just stupid because I didn’t think this stuff would ever be happening to me.” Her voice cracks a little, and I stop working to look up at her. Her eyes are watery and her cheeks are flushed, the sight tugging at my heart.

  “Ivy, you’re not stupid.” I gently squeeze her leg, aching to comfort her but not knowing how without crossing a line. “I’m pretty sure, when people get married, they don’t expect that they’ll be shafted by that person years later, and have their entire fucking life uprooted.”

  “No.” She sniffles. “I never even imagined it.”

  I wheel my stool across my small work area, grab the box of tissues on my table, and hand them to her.

  “You must think I’m a mess,” she says, taking a tissue and wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re not a mess.” Actually, I think she’s beautiful, and it’s way more than just her looks. I can tell this woman has a heart of gold, and it shines right out of her like a spotlight. “You can vent on me all ya want. I’ve
been through a lot of crap myself, so I understand. Trust me. I’m a good listener.”

  I pick my gun up and continue my design on her, trying to be as gentle with her as I can be. Knowing that I’m inflicting even the slightest amount of pain on her bothers me.

  “Are you married?” she asks suddenly.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, you’re young. You have tons of time.”

  I wipe her leg with a cloth. “True. I think I’m one of the few guys that actually wants to get married. I just can’t find the right girl.”

  “That’s hard to believe. You seem like a really nice guy, and you’re very talented. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up for you.”

  I laugh. “Not the right ones, that’s for sure. I tend to attract the crazies or the wrong ones in general. I just broke up with a girl a few weeks ago that I still feel bad about. She was a great girl, really pretty, and we had a lot of things in common. I think she actually cared about me, too. She was the most normal girl I’ve dated in a long time.”

  “That’s a shame. What happened?”

  “She slept with my brother a few times before I hooked up with her.”

  Ivy scrunches up her face. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, exactly. I just couldn’t get past it. Do you think that’s wrong of me? Do you think I should be able to just forget about that?” I ask, wondering if there’s something wrong with me, or if maybe I’m too picky.

  She thinks about my question before answering. “No, I completely understand. I think, for a lot of people, it’s awkward to be intimate with a person someone else you are close to has also been intimate with. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.”

  “Exactly! I couldn’t see myself having dinner with her over at my brother’s house, sitting at his table, knowing he screwed her. It would make me crazy thinking about it, and I don’t think I could not think about. I can’t un-see that shit in my head, ya know?”

  She laughs. “I totally agree. I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It just sounded funny, the way you said it,” she says. “I feel sick every time I think about the fact that Paul was having an affair for a whole year before I found out. Just thinking that he was having sex with another woman, and then coming home to me, pretending he had been at work and acting all normal, is disgusting.”

  “Fuck yeah it is. Was he sleeping with both of you? Not at the same time, obviously, I mean, while he was married to you?”

  “Apparently so. He’d stopped having sex with me for months. Almost a year.” She turns her head away from me, her face reddening with embarrassment. “I just thought he was tired from working. I didn’t think he was getting it better someplace else.”

  “Shit. That sucks. I absolutely cannot stand cheaters. I feel really bad for you.”

  She sighs and faces me again. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I feel lame enough already.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you. I just feel bad for you because I don’t think you deserve it. He’s a shithead.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  I add a few more flowers to her design before I get up the courage to ask her my next question. “Did you eat dinner today?”

  “No . . . I didn’t have time to.”

  “When we’re done here, we could go to this little cafe down the street. They’re open ’til midnight. I haven’t eaten yet, either.”

  Her leg muscles stiffen again beneath my hands, and I silently beg her to say yes.

  “I don’t know . . . I should probably just go home,” she answers nervously, chewing her bottom lip.

  “To the big empty house? Forget that and come with me. They have killer soups and sandwiches, and their lattes are awesome. Do you really want me to eat alone like a loser?”

  She smiles shyly at me. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then grab a bite with me. Save me from my impending loser-dom.”

  She squirms in the chair. “Lukas, I’d love to save you from your loser-dom, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  I flash her my best chick-melting smile. What the hell am I doing? Am I really trying to hook up with a chick a decade older than me? “It’s just a sandwich. No strings, I promise.”

  She sighs and laughs, and I love how pretty her lips look when she smiles. Like a little doll. “Okay. I am hungry, actually.”

  “Cool. Let’s try to put in a little more design time, and then we’ll go, okay?”

  She nods. “That’s perfect.”

  I have a strict no-dating-the-customers-rule that I imposed on myself when my brother and I opened the shop four years ago. And even though this technically isn’t a real date, I’m growing more and more attracted to Ivy, and I really have no idea why. I work on all kinds of attractive women every day but remain detached from them, even though a lot of them literally throw themselves at me and offer me everything from blowjobs to threesomes. There’s just this thing about her. Maybe it’s her shyness. Or the ache I feel in her. Or maybe it’s the crazy tingling feeling I get every time I touch her or look into her eyes. Either way, I just know I want to spend more time with her without jabbing needles in her.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asks me.

  “My brother and I opened this place four years ago after we inherited some money from our grandfather.”

  Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you owned it.”

  I smile as I add delicate shading to the tender spot just above her knee. “Yup. I own the building, too, and I live upstairs.”

  “Wow, I had no idea. I’m very jealous of your commute,” she teases. “What was here before you moved in? I love the uniqueness of the building. I know it was a church or chapel at one time, right?”

  “It was quite a while ago. Before we moved in, an older couple lived here that sold antiques. They were cool enough to let us keep some of their antique furniture and artwork. The furniture in the waiting area is all antiques, and a bunch of the furniture in my apartment is, too. I love vintage decor, especially anything Victorian Gothic.” I pause working on her design. “I’m fascinated with the history that’s attached to certain objects. I feel like antiques have a story to tell, and that they carry with them a little piece of each person who owned it. Like an imprint, I guess. Sometimes, I like to run my hand over the old wood and just try to feel the past seep into me.”

  She listens with a fascinated expression as I talk. “Lukas . . . that’s so beautiful. I’m impressed. Most men have zero interest in things like that, especially someone your age.”

  I look up from her leg to meet her eyes. “I’ve never acted my age, Ivy.”

  “Can I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  Her eyes widen. “No fair. I’d love to be twenty-four again.”

  I reposition her, and she turns so she’s lying on her side so I can get to the back of her leg. I can’t help but notice her shorts creeping up and exposing more of the back of her thigh leading up to her ass. I fight the urge to run my hand up the back of her leg and caress her. I want to hear her sigh under my touch.

  I blink and try to refocus on working. “Well, you can’t go back, but you can move forward. Try not to think of what’s changing in your life as all negative,” I encourage her, trying to calm my dick down at the same time. “Try to look at it as an opportunity for new things.” Yes. New things like my lips all over your body.

  “You sound like my friend Lindsay. I guess the two of you must be right.”

  I wheel away from her and place my gun down on my worktable. “Okay, pretty lady, time for a new thing right now. You’re coming to the cafe with me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  IVY

  IT’S JUST COFFEE. It’s not a date. Keep him company while he eats, nibble on something, and then go home. No big deal.

  My reflection in the bathroom mirror is not what I want to see. I look tired. My eyes look a bit puffy and dull. A grey hair is visible. Shit! I reach up, carefully grab it, and yank
it out.

  Ouch!

  I’m definitely getting my hair done. Soon.

  Rubbing the new sore spot on my head, I wonder why Lukas wants to have dinner with me. Given his age, I’m sure we don’t have too much in common. With his looks, he must have tons of pretty young girls he could be spending time with on a Friday night, not wasting time with someone as boring as I am.

  He feels sorry for your lonely ass.

  I frown in the mirror and tell myself it doesn’t matter what a twenty-four-year-old guy thinks of how I look. Grabbing my bag, I unlock the door and meet him in the waiting area.

  “How about the Friday after next? Same time?” he asks, scribbling on his calendar again.

  I don’t even bother to check my calendar app. “That’s perfect.”

  “Awesome. You ready?”

  I nod and he comes around the counter. “I know it’s freezing out, but do you mind if we walk? It’s only two blocks. The cold air wakes me up,” he says as we head outside and he turns to lock the door behind us.

  “Walking sounds great. And I actually really like the cold,” I reply. I love this street; it’s quaint with lots of great little unique stores and boutiques, which is one of the many benefits of living in a small, artsy, New England town. Being December, Christmas lights decorate most of the shop windows, making the street look very much like a holiday card scene. I hope I can find an affordable house to live in, if Paul decides we have to sell our house, because it will break my heart to move from this little town I grew up in and love so much. I want my kids to grow up here like I did.

  “Does your leg feel okay?” Lukas asks. “I didn’t think of how sore it might be when I asked you to walk.”

  I smile up at him, touched by his sweet concern. “It doesn’t really hurt at all.”

  The cafe is small but cozy, decorated very much like a living room. There are small tables adorned with candles, a few loveseats with oversized pillows, pretty Tiffany-style lamps, and an electric fireplace with a large stone mantle. In one corner is a Christmas tree with wrapped presents beneath it. I immediately fall in love and know I will be coming back here. Only four other customers are here at the moment—two sitting on a love seat reading, and two others are chatting softly at a table.