Ink My Heart lj-2

by Jean Haus

  With the duffel on his shoulder and while holding the hatch open, he says, “Don’t forget about the kisses.”

  I roll my eyes, stepping toward the ladder. “Yes. Thank you for honoring me with the glorious touch of your lips.”

  He pulls me into a one-armed hug and gives me a sweet, quick kiss before brushing his lips on my forehead. “Anytime.”

  Fun. The word springs into my head as the touch of his lips lingers on my forehead. We’re having fun. With that thought, I blurt, “Let me plan next Saturday?”

  A slow smile spreads across his face as he nods.

  Going down the ladder, I’m yelling at and thanking myself for blurting the invitation.

  Chapter 14

  Allie

  The next morning, I peek into Ben’s room to find him sitting on the floor with pieces of his dump truck Erector set scattered around him. “You have thirty more minutes to play before it’s time to get dressed.” We always go to my parents’ on Sundays, and although Ben loves his grandparents, it’s best to warn him about any upcoming departure if it’s going to mean pulling him away from a building project.

  Without glancing up from his task of connecting two pieces, he asks, “How about thirty-two minutes?”

  I hide a smile behind my coffee cup in case he looks up. His five-year-old perception of time cracks me up. “All right, thirty-two minutes it is.”

  “Good.” He keeps working and I head to the kitchen. I’m rinsing cereal bowls when my phone dings. Drying my hands, I glance at the text.

  Breakfast?

  I can’t help smiling because Justin wants to see me again so soon. I reach for my phone and type out my reply.

  I wish. Super busy.

  I set my phone down, but it dings again. I grab it and head toward the bathroom to shower while reading Justin’s text.

  What are you wearing?

  I flick on the water before responding.

  Cotton.

  Come on.

  Tank top and shorts.

  White?

  Was.

  Was?

  Getting in shower.

  Are you trying to kill me?

  I’d send you a picture but they say the imagination is always better.

  They’re wrong! Send! Send! Holy hell, send!

  Gotta go. Shower’s running. :)

  Late Sunday night, after putting Ben to bed, I’m finishing my business class homework at the dining room table when another text comes in from Justin.

  How many tattoos do you have?

  A slow grin spreads across my face. Happy for the interruption, I shut my book, push it to the middle of the table, and text back.

  Wouldn’t you like to know.

  Fuck yes.

  Six.

  Where?

  A girl’s got to have her secrets.

  I’m a man on a secret mission.

  I’m busy doing laundry Monday afternoon when my phone dings in my pocket. I finish loading the washer in our little hallway closet, and before I can dig the phone out, it dings again. I’m not surprised to see Justin’s name.

  Tomorrow. Meet me at the candy shop? Oh, I mean coffee shop.

  I actually wish I could meet him. The memory of our date—and, okay, his kiss—has been sustaining me all day long, but I’m booked up with appointments through Friday. After walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch, I text back.

  Perv. Can’t. Very busy workweek.

  Damn. It’s gonna be the longest week ever. Feel like a kid waiting for X-mas morning.

  Come Saturday there’ll be no unwrapping.

  Peeking?

  You wish.

  Hell yeah.

  NO peeking.

  Licking then?

  Licking!?

  The sunflower on the back of your neck. I’ve licked it a thousand times in my imagination.

  I’ll be wearing a scarf on Saturday.

  Just a scarf?

  Shut up.

  Hours later after dinner, I tell Ben, “Time to pick up the Legos. Then hit the bathroom and brush your teeth. You’ve already had an extra ten minutes.” He lets out a sigh but at least listens and starts tossing the Legos into a bin.

  Monday bedtime sucks. I’m not sure why, maybe because it’s hard to come off the weekend, but it’s definitely the worst.

  I finish rinsing out the sink, then wrap up the chicken, broccoli, and buttered pasta that’s left over from dinner. When Holly stops in tomorrow morning to get clean clothes and pack a lunch, she’ll make good use of it. My phone dings, and I’m expecting the text to be from Trevor, since we still need to make plans for him to pick Ben up from school tomorrow. But it’s from Justin.

  Thinking of you, wine, chocolate, and that lip ring. I’d like to suck on it right now.

  Whoa. I have things to do, like putting Ben to bed and finishing a painting for class. I don’t need images in my head of Justin sucking on my lip ring to distract me. However nice they may be.

  My fingers fly across the miniscule keypad on my phone.

  You are a mean, mean boy. Saturday is my treat, but if you keep this up we’ll be going to Mickey D’s.

  As long as they have a play place, we’re good.

  Should I even ask?

  Tight spaces, small tunnels, close proximity…

  Okay, no Mickey D’s.

  In the shop on Tuesday, I try to focus on a sketch for a new client. I bite into a chocolate chip cookie from the pack I snatched from Todd’s tattoo room and stare down at the blank paper. It’s not a very nutritious lunch, but just getting Ben to tie his shoes was an impossible task this morning, and I didn’t have time to pack any food before we rushed out the door. Nor do I have time to go out and get something. Tuesday afternoons were mostly dead in the winter, but now that spring is in the air, they’re busy. I had to race from campus to work after class for an appointment earlier, and I have another client coming in ten minutes.

  “So your brother is having Todd do his first tattoo?” Shay asks as she folds T-shirts across from my drawing table.

  I nod and pull out another cookie.

  “Why wouldn’t he have you ink him?”

  I shrug. “Probably afraid I’ll exact some kind of revenge on him.”

  Shay gives me a funny look. “You two get along great.”

  “Yeah, now. But when he was fifteen and I was eleven he used to sucker me into doing his chores,” I say, stuffing half a cookie in my mouth. My phone vibrates and after I read the text from Justin, I almost spew crumbs.

  I keep thinking about calling you, but your voice is too sexy to endure.

  I swallow the dry cookie with a gulp of coffee and text back the word that almost came out of my mouth in a screech.

  What?????

  Yup. It’s the first thing I noticed about you.

  Get out.

  Nope. Before I even laid eyes on you, the sound of your voice practically got me hard.

  I fan myself with a piece of paper. Shay raises an eyebrow at the manic speed with which I’m fanning myself. Dropping the paper, I smile weakly at her and then type out my reply while trying to sound nonchalant.

  Are you trying to text-seduce me?

  Maybe. Is it working?

  Maybe…

  My brain screams, “Liar!”—because it’s definitely working. Already I can’t wait for Saturday night. The only problem is that I can’t come up with an idea for our date. Justin used my love of art to plan our night on the rooftop. I’d like to use his love of music for ideas, but since I’m a musical moron, nothing has inspired me yet.

  The bell above the door rings as my two o’clock appointment strolls into the shop.

  Dang.

  I’m hoping I’ll have time tonight to figure out something brilliant. Something to wow Justin as much as he wowed me.

  Chapter 15

  Justin

  I’m enjoying the music blasting from the amazing stereo system in my Beemer until I see Sam pulling out his pack of cigaret
tes. I hit the mute button on my steering wheel and the sound dies. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Dude,” he says. “I’m doing this for you. The least you can do is let me have a smoke.”

  “Forget it.” I take an exit off the highway and start making the turns toward Dragonfly Ink. “You’re not smoking in my car.”

  Sam shoves his cigarettes back in his pocket. “Fine, but I’m smoking before we go in.”

  “Since when do you smoke all the frigging time?”

  He shrugs. “Since when do you chase chicks?”

  Ignoring him, I park just out of sight of the shop window so there’s no chance Allie will see him smoking. Strangely, I’m worried about her opinion. As soon as the bastard gets out of the car, he lights up. Like I want to stand around watching him smoke instead of seeing Allie.

  “Exactly where do I want this tattoo?” he asks, pointing his cigarette at me.

  I step back from the cloud of smoke he exhales. “I don’t know. Where would you get a tattoo?”

  He squints while he thinks. “My other arm?”

  Maybe using Sam for this surprise visit isn’t the best idea. “Then say your other arm. You’ve been killing too many brain cells lately. This doesn’t have to be scripted out, just act like you want another tattoo.”

  “Man, this girl has you wound tighter than a coke fiend. You’re even stalking her undercover.”

  “This isn’t stalking.” I just need to see her. Saturday is too long a wait. I have to know if this building connection between us is as deep as it feels, and seeing her is the only way to find out. I decided that hump day would be the perfect choice for a visit.

  “No? We’re going in there pretending I want a tattoo.”

  “You might after checking out her art.”

  “Naw. I don’t like needles. The last one was a bitch to get through. Had to down half a fifth of vodka and two joints.” He tosses his cigarette butt to the sidewalk. “Probably a good thing. Keeps me from injecting anything.”

  We start walking toward the shop. “Who the hell would ink you all fucked up?”

  “Some dude. Works out of his house.”

  “You are an idiot.”

  He nods. “Must be if I agreed to this bullshit.”

  “Don’t screw this up,” I warn, opening the door.

  Mandy is behind the counter on the phone. We wander over to the books of photos. Sam flicks one open and feigns interest in the pictures of peoples’ tattoos. I stand next to him, scrolling through my phone.

  After a few minutes, Mandy strolls over and I introduce her to Sam. She’s flirting with both of us when Allie comes out from the back with a customer. She’s looking cute, wearing pigtails and a backward baseball cap. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. I give her a grin. Her expression tightens as Mandy runs a nail along the tattoo on my left arm, but Allie doesn’t call her employee over, instead turning back to the guy with a Mohawk and leather pants. Douche.

  While Mandy giggles and checks out Sam’s tattoos, I watch Allie explain after care to the customer. He’s all attention, and I’m betting it isn’t on what’s coming out of her mouth. When he leans closer to her, I’m at the counter in seconds without a thought.

  “Hey,” I say, and Allie’s gray eyes flick to me. She gives me a curt nod but continues to explain how to care for a fresh tattoo. My eyes drill holes into the guy’s profile until he finally draws away from her. At least he’s a smart fucker.

  “Was that necessary?” she snaps when the guy finally leaves.

  “What?” I say innocently.

  Her pierced brow rises. “Intimidating my customer.”

  My hand spreads across my chest. “Me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “So what brings you out today?”

  “Sam’s considering adding some more ink.” I gesture toward the front of the shop. He’s paging through a photo book with Mandy.

  “Custom?” Allie asks.

  “Yeah, that’s the direction he’s thinking.” Sam isn’t thinking shit.

  She glances their way again. “Well, since you’re here, can I take a picture of your back?”

  My lips form a slow and deliberate smirk. “Trying to get my clothes off?”

  Her balled-fist settles on a jean-clad hip. “Just your shirt.”

  “Whatever you want,” I say, lifting the bottom of my shirt.

  One of her hands covers mine. “Not here. Follow me out back. The light’s always best outside.”

  I grab her hand and hold it tight. “Not until we’re alone, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she says in a sarcastic tone, pulling her hand from my grasp. “Alone in the romantic parking lot.”

  “I like your sense of adventure.”

  Shaking her head, she moves toward the hallway that leads to the tattooing rooms. “Let me just grab the camera,” she says.

  I wait while she ducks into a small room with a desk. She comes out holding an expensive digital camera. I hold the door open to the parking lot and we walk outside together into the bright afternoon.

  “Okay,” she says, pointing to the brick wall. “Take off your shirt here and—”

  “Here? It’s kind of cold and exposed. I can’t believe you want to get busy here.”

  She points at the wall. “Get busy? Dream on. As for the cold, it’s over fifty degrees out. Models work half-naked in the Arctic Circle. So, tough guy, get rid of the shirt.”

  Grinning, I yank my shirt off.

  She lifts the camera. “Now face the wall.”

  I turn around and stare at the brick. “I like it when you’re bossy. So many possibilities.”

  “You are impossible,” she mutters. I hear the click of the camera several times along with a car driving past the parking lot.

  “Okay, you can put your shirt back on,” she says, her voice silky smooth.

  With my shirt still hanging in my hand, I turn around. “That’s it?”

  Eyes sparkling, she nods. “That’s it.”

  Suddenly, Mandy whips open the back door. “School just called. Your son is sick. Vomiting and the works apparently.”

  Nearly dropping the camera, Allie races back into the shop while Mandy’s phrase “your son” sends shock waves through my head.

  Mandy ogles my naked torso. “Did she get a picture of the front too?”

  I drag my shirt over my head and stagger past her into the shop’s hallway. Allie is in the office throwing stuff into her bag.

  “Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day,” she says to Mandy. “Try to reschedule them.”

  I stare at her. This woman I’ve been trying to figure out for weeks now. Business owner. Tattoo artist. Student. Ex-wife. Mother? She’s like a favorite song you’re sure means one thing—until you find out the meaning is entirely different.

  “You have a son?” I ask numbly, recalling how hard I’ve tried to be open and honest with her. How much I’ve dug into myself to make what’s between us real, while she’s been so obviously indifferent that she didn’t even bother telling me she had a kid. A son. How did she not share that?

  Passing me in the hall, Allie nods a curt good-bye, but I grab her arm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugs. “I have to go.”

  Her shrug pisses me off. It’s like she’s dismissing me. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about your son?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because it does,” I say, and anger slips into my tone.

  “I don’t owe you any explanations, Justin.”

  “Explanations? Don’t use that bullshit line on me. After all the things I’ve told you, your telling me about your kid isn’t a fucking explanation, Allie.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “What the hell does that mean? I’m asking why you never said anything. Why wouldn’t you say something about him?” With each word my voice rises.

  Though her expression is furious, she asks in a calm voice, “Who do you think you are to yell at
me?”

  One of the hallway doors open and Mac’s gray head appears. “What the hell is going on out here? I’m trying to work.”

  “Sorry, Mac.” Her slate eyes shift to mine. “We’re leaving.” Allie tears her arm out of my grasp. “I don’t have time for this. I have to go,” she says, and bolts out the back door.

  Mac glares at me over his bifocals, then shuts the door to his workspace.

  I want to punch the wall. Confusion and anger flow through me. I want to race after her. I want to shake the truth out of her.

  “Don’t feel too bad,” Mandy says. I look up in annoyance as I realize that she has been standing there the whole time. “She doesn’t really tell anyone about Ben. I only know because of the possibility of school calling.”

  My jaw unclenches so I can say, “Didn’t know I was ‘anyone.’”

  Chapter 16

  Allie

  I’m hungry,” Ben says, rolling over and staring at me. His blue eyes are big under the thick lenses of his glasses. With his head in my lap and his body encased in a Cars sleeping bag, he appears small and vulnerable. At least his fever has come down since I gave him some kid Tylenol after picking him up from school.

  I straighten his glasses. “Toast? Soup?”

  He glances at the TV for a moment. Ben is a careful decision maker. Not sure where he got the skill, because between Trevor and me, he should be tremendously impulsive. I’ve worked hard at growing out of my impulsivity, but my actions lately prove I still need to work at it.

  His lips unscrew from a tight knot of thought. “Both?”

  “All right.” I give his forehead a quick kiss and then scoot out from under him, using a pillow to replace my lap. As I head into the kitchen, I can’t decide if I feel happy or pissed that Trevor blew us off. After he called to invite us to dinner, I suggested that he come over and watch a movie with us instead, since Ben is still sick. He declined, of course.

  The idea of sitting with a sick kid doesn’t appeal to him, even if the sick kid is his own son and it would mean time with me. I’m not stupid. I’m guessing a hookup is part of his motivation right now. But then again, if he really wanted that, he’d be trying to see Ben more. He’s been home over two weeks and has only taken Ben four times. Apparently, he has more important things to do than visiting with his son. My guess is those things have to do with Jazz.