by Karen Ferry
“Let me just turn on the lights,” he murmurs from behind me. I blink as the dimness fades, leaving the shop bathed in a warm glow. Slowly, I turn in a circle, in much the same way as I did the first time I was here, and quirk an eyebrow at Kristian, silently asking him to take over.
He takes my cue and smiles.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he asks as he takes my hand. I jump as I feel the touch of his skin, but don’t pull away. The crooked smile he turns my way as he leads me to the far corner of the shop makes my legs wobble, but I try not to let on how much his touch affects me.
I sit down on the same sofa as I did the last time I was here and watch him as he sets up his station in front of me. A part of me feels as if I should fill the silence with chatter, but it’s as if I’m struck mute.
“I’ve already got the design ready,” Kristian starts as he pulls his hair back in a small ponytail, “so I just need to make sure the size is right. Can you hold your arm out to me, your wrist up?”
I sit up straighter in my seat and do as he asks. He takes some kind of strange paper and kneels in front of me. Seeing my daughter’s name in blue ink staring up at me, my belly starts to flip again.
“Here we go,” Kristian murmurs. Fascinated, I look as he puts the paper on my wrist and presses in. “I’ve made this stencil, so take a look and let me know what you think. You have to be absolutely sure it’s what you want.”
I look down and smile. The touch of the cool paper soothes me, and I nod slowly before looking into Kristian’s eyes.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed.
The intensity in his gaze takes me by surprise.
“Are you sure you want to go through with it?”
Feeling more confident, I smile at him.
“Definitely.”
The slow smile that forms on his lips fills me with happiness.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” He takes my hand and pulls me up on my feet, and I almost bump into his chest, surprised that he’s so much closer than before. I should be used to his size by now, but never have I felt as small in his presence as I do right now. It should frighten me, being this close to him, but fear is the last thing buzzing through my entire being at this very moment.
“Okay,” I squeak, staring hard into his T-shirt.
He squeezes my hand resting on his chest. I barely notice the deliberate, slow movement as he raises his other arm—it’s as if I can’t look away as his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm against my hand. Then I feel his thumb pressing in on my chin, tilting up my head so I can’t avoid his probing gaze.
“There’s no turning back now,” he murmurs. The smile has vanished from his lips, and I hold my breath. “This is it, Laura. Once we get started, you can’t back down. Is that clear?”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about my tattoo anymore?” I whisper.
His eyebrows shoot up as he blinks at me, clearly taken aback by my words.
“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “What do you think we’re talking about?”
The urge to kick myself hard in my arse is strong, and I wet my lips as I try to bide for time.
“I don’t know,” I answer, my voice feeble. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Kristian. I’m sorry.”
He pinches his lips together as he shakes his head.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true, but this is neither the time nor the place to talk about it. Alex will be here any minute now, but…”
Of their own volition, my eyelids flutter closed as he bends his head, and the feeling of his thumb as he caresses the skin on my wrist sends my pulse leaping.
“But what?” I whisper.
“But don’t think I’ll forget what you just said, Laura. We need to talk about it—later.”
Crap.
“Kristian…,” I start, but the moment is lost when the bell above the door pings, interrupting our interlude.
“Morning.”
Alex’s soft bellow makes me turn my head, and I smile weakly at him. The gentle giant, as I’ve taken to calling him, seems cheerful today.
“Ready for your first ink, Laura?” Alex asks me as he stops in front of us. Excitement warms me from the inside when he rubs his hands together, clearly happy for me.
Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it.
I hold my breath, trying to gather my wits. I can’t focus when Kristian’s touch is still wreaking havoc with my insides.
“Are you?” Kristian whispers.
I look up at him and nod slowly.
“Ready,” I whisper.
Kristian releases my hand and takes a step away. He motions to the bench and without losing my gaze, he takes a pair of black latex gloves from a drawer.
“Then hop on, sweetheart, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Kristian
During my five years of being a professional tattoo artist, I must have inked thousands of people—there have been some memorable ones—but they all blur together as I spend the next half an hour working on Laura’s wrist.
None of those tattoos are significant anymore.
None of them really matter.
I hadn’t expected that doing such a simple tat as this one would prove to turn my world around as much as it does, and maybe I’m deluding myself into believing that’s what I’m feeling.
And yet…
Virgin skin.
I try to mask my shaky intake of breath and clear my throat.
“You okay?” I ask Laura. She seems comfortable as she’s lying on the armchair, arm turned my way, but looks can be deceptive, and I pause for a moment.
She’s staring straight ahead as she swallows hard.
“I’m good, thanks.” When she smiles at me, shrugging lightly, I feel relieved. “It’s not as bad as I’d feared, to be honest.”
I turn on the needle and add some ink, ignoring the buzzing sound in the otherwise silent room.
“Soon, you’ll become addicted,” I tease her.
Her unladylike snort amuses me.
“I doubt it, but who knows? I might surprise myself.”
I crack my neck, curious to learn more about this mysterious woman who seems to be so full of contradictions. It’s the same as I told her that night at the pub—the more I learn about her, the more I want to stop time indefinitely and simply learn even more about her.
I haven’t had those kind of thoughts about a woman for so long, but as soon as it wedges itself into my heart, the more I realise that I like it.
Fuck.
“Does that happen often?” I ask. “That you surprise yourself, I mean?”
“No.” The answer is swift—and a little disappointing.
“That’s too bad.”
I bend my head as I lean forward in my seat, my focus on the tattoo again.
“I sound dull, don’t I?”
No sooner have the words fallen from her lips than I shake my head, negating her statement.
“You’re definitely not boring.” I glance into her doubtful eyes and wink playfully at her. “But doing something out of the norm makes life a little more interesting. That’s how I feel, at least. And take me, for instance…” I straighten in my seat, my arms to the side. “Who’d have thought I’d leave the big city and move into a flat above some stables?”
Her grin makes my stomach tighten, but I don’t allow her to see my inner turmoil.
“Well, yes, I suppose you’re right,” she concedes and then tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. “My dad loved surprises.”
The unveiled note of sadness in her voice catches my attention.
“Tell me about him,” I ask softly.
She inhales deeply as she wets her lips.
“He was quiet—very uncharacteristic of Scots, I might add—but there was a bit of a daredevil hidden inside of him, too.”
“I’m intrigued now. Go on, please.”
“He was very short, and…
”
“Aah, so that’s who you take after,” I grin.
She doesn’t miss a beat, but only scrunches her nose at me. The twinkle in her gaze tells me that she’s not offended, and I breathe a small sigh of relief.
“And so he became a jockey. He was so passionate about race horses—the whole industry—and when a broken leg stopped him from continuing his career, he got the idea for New Beginnings. He inherited the farm from my grandparents when they died, but didn’t know what to do with it until he took a bad fall at a race and the horse he was riding broke its leg, too. That’s when his idea was born. And that’s how he met Mum.”
I grin at her, pleased that she’s finally opening up to me.
“How? Was it a whirlwind romance, then?”
She cracks a smile, her eyes lost in memory.
“Pretty much. She was a client, actually.” She looks back at me when I stop the tattoo needle, enraptured by her story. “She knew he had a reputation—that he had a gift with horses—and she was intrigued by his nick name, The Horse Whisperer.” Laura rolls her eyes, and I smirk as I remember our first real conversation we had not that long ago.
“Mum was also touched by the fact that he attempted to show people there is so much more to race horses than their profession. She wanted to adopt one of them, and since she had been around the industry almost as long as my dad, she knew that he was the right person to turn to.”
Her low sigh as she tells the story about her parents makes my heart speed up. I’m enraptured by her voice.
By her.
“Once they laid their eyes on each other, that was it,” Laura ends on another sigh. “It was love at first sight.”
“Do you believe in that?” I whisper.
She turns her head back to me, and upon seeing the caution in her stormy, grey eyes, I get the most overwhelming urge to kick my arse.
“I believe it happens to some,” she whispers back. “That there are a few lucky people in the world who find their soul mates—but most of us don’t get that.”
I tilt my head at her, almost afraid to ask the next question.
“Wasn’t your husband your soul mate?” I hold my breath, heart hammering away in my chest. I want her to say no—but I’m being selfish.
I don’t give a fuck.
She snaps her mouth shut and turns her face away from me.
“For a while, I thought he might be, but…no. He wasn’t.”
I curse under my breath. I was wrong—I’m sad for her.
“Hey.” I reach out my hand and touch her cheek, wanting to make her look at me again. Alarmed, I suppress the need to wrap her up in my arms when I see the tears swimming in her eyes.
“Hey, what’s this? Laura?”
“Please don’t ask me any questions,” she pleads, her voice so low I can hardly hear her.
I lean further down until our foreheads touch.
“Just breathe,” I murmur.
She nods once and does as I say.
I’m beyond confused by her tears, but then a staggering thought hits me when I glance to look more closely at the scar on her cheek. My pulse speeds up, and a sinking feeling settles in my gut. The longer I look at it, the more anger replaces my concern. My body is locked in place, and I feel wired—as if I’m about to snap. It’s fucking irrational, but now that the suspicion is born inside me, I can’t get it out of my mind.
“Don’t.”
I pinch my eyes shut tight at the sound of steel in her voice, and I have to take a deep breath to keep my rising temper in check.
“Just answer me this,” I growl. My hand tightens on the back of her neck, keeping her in place.
Silence. I don’t know if she will relent, but I have to know.
“Are you sad he’s dead?”
More silence, our heavy breathing splitting my ears as if we were in the middle of a heavy metal concert.
“No.”
I wet my lips as the adrenaline running through my veins slowly ebbs.
“No, you’re not sorry? Or no, you won’t answer?”
I need her to be specific. Everything—no matter where we go from here—hinges on her reply.
I count the seconds as I wait, wondering if she’ll tell me the truth.
Finally, she inhales deeply as she moves to rest her cheek against mine. I can feel her tilt up her head as her warm breath fans across my jaw.
“No, I’m not sad he’s dead.”
Fucking. Hell.
Careful not to hurt her, I unclench my fingers from her hair and lean back to catch her eyes. The honesty mingled with stubbornness flaring back at me makes my stomach clench.
I have to take a couple of deep breaths before I speak, and once the adrenaline has settled down, I nod once at her.
“I’m going to finish your tat, sweetheart, but this conversation isn’t over.”
She takes a deep breath and glances down at my mouth. The urge to kiss her—to ravish her—is like a punch to my stomach. I hardly recognise myself anymore. I haven’t kissed a woman in years, but since meeting Laura, it’s all I can think about.
My whole world has changed.
Whether it will be for the better remains to be seen.
But for the first time in a very long time, I feel ready to face the unknown head first.
“Kristian, I don’t think –”
I put my thumb over her lips, silencing her protests.
“Maybe stop thinking for a little while,” I murmur as the softness of her skin zings mine. It shouldn’t be possible, not with my hand covered up in these gloves, and yet I feel it all the way from my scalp to the tips of my toes.
And in my cock.
With that, I close my eyes for a beat and turn my focus back on the job.
16
Kristian
The drive back to New Beginnings is ripe with tension. I keep glancing at Laura, but it’s like she’s put up an invisible wall around her. Her hands are secured tightly around her middle as she looks out the window. No matter what I do, I can’t penetrate it.
Bloody complicated woman.
Finally, I’ve had enough with the silence between us, and the idea that, in order for her to open up to me, I reveal parts of my own past whips through my brain. The thought makes me feel vulnerable, and I tighten my hold on the steering wheel.
But I have to do this. I know that I have to give Laura a part of myself if I’m ever going to get a chance with her.
“You know,” I start softly, “you’re not the only one who has a past they want to keep hidden.”
I glance at her profile, but there’s still no reaction, so I continue.
“We don’t know much about each other, but in order for this friendship thing to work between us, I guess it’s time I told you a little bit about who I am.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as she clenches her right hand into a fist, boring it into her flesh.
I guess that’s something, at least.
“My dad split up with my mum when I was thirteen,” I start, keeping my tone light. “He wasn’t much use to begin with, but after he left, it broke something inside her—it’s like the brightness of her soul was snuffed out. It didn’t happen overnight, but I watched her over the following months, and I could see it happening right before my eyes. Day by day, she shrank, became a shadow of her former self. I guess it’s true what they say—that some people never recover from a broken heart. It still makes me so fucking angry that I couldn’t stop it from happening.”
“You were just a child, Kristian.”
Laura’s soft whisper—the unveiled compassion in it—makes goose-bumps jump out on my arms, and I throw a wry smile her way. Seeing the cautious sympathy in her eyes settles the nerves in my gut a little.
“I know. It still doesn’t stop me regretting that I couldn’t help her.”
Her posture relaxes a little as she frowns at me.
“What happened?” she asks.
Pleased that she seems interested, I
wet my lips as I look back to the road in front of me. It’s easier to continue the story if I’m not looking at her.
“Well, I didn’t turn wild and reckless if that’s what you’re wondering,” I muse. “But let’s just say that I became a little bit like her—aimless, not caring what my future would be like. School was boring to me, even though I found my classes easy—so easy, in fact, that I scored the highest in all my exams by the time I left high school, without putting too much effort into it.”
“Really?”
I smirk as I nod, keeping my eyes on the road in front of me.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised, though.” I wink at her and reach out my arm to trail my fingers softly down her cheek. “There’s a lot more to me than a fucking hot body and the ink painted on it, Laura,” I tease her.
“I never said there wasn’t.”
Tongue in cheek, I turn my face so she can’t see how amused I am at how offended she sounds.
I shrug and try to keep my voice light.
“I know, but you didn’t have to. You see, people who look at me don’t see beneath the surface—they only see my tattoos, my hair, my clothes, and, in a matter of seconds, they’ve already made their mind up about me. It happens all the time.”
I take a deep breath as I stop to gather my thoughts.
“Anyway, I didn’t want to go to a fancy university and study to become a doctor or a solicitor. I didn’t know what I wanted, actually. I loved to draw, though, and spent hours upon hours trying to become better all the time. The first time I met a tattoo artist and saw his work, it was like everything clicked into place. I just knew that I’d found what I’d been subconsciously looking for for a long time.”
“How does it make you feel? Being a tattoo artist, I mean?”
I bite my lip as I take a moment, letting her question swirl around in my mind, before I answer her.
“It makes me proud,” I begin slowly, “and satisfied. Honoured, too. I mean, it takes someone a lot to place their trust in the hands of a virtual stranger,” I point a finger at my chest, “and for that person to take your vision and turn it into something extraordinary. I’m grateful I possess the talent to make some people’s dreams come true, I guess. It humbles me.”