by Piper Rayne
I smile at the adorable way he says greenhouse and stand from the couch, picking him up. “Only if you promise to show me all the plants.”
“I can show you them all.” Then he wraps his arms around my neck as I head to the front door to slip my shoes on.
“You’re going to make a great mom someday,” Brooklyn says, following behind us.
I squeeze Lance a little tighter. I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me, but I vow to be the best pseudo-aunt ever.
Chapter Two
Moose
I climb on my Harley, put the kickstand up, and start the engine. She purrs and I rev her a couple times just because I like the sound. A lot of people would think I was a dumb fuck for planning to ride around the Alaskan wilderness on a motorcycle at night, what with the moose and deer running across the road, but by the time I finish my bouncer duties at Poppy’s, it’ll be twilight as I’m making my way home. Besides, you gotta go sometime and going on a Harley isn’t the worst way to leave this world.
I book it down to Smokin’ Guns to pick up my paycheck. Liam is a great guy but hasn’t figured out what direct deposit is yet, so every Thursday our pay waits in his office.
Tattooing is my main gig, but I picked up the side job at Poppy’s biker bar nine months ago to earn a little extra coin. Not for any reason in particular, but I’m single and most of my buddies are now married and starting families and there’s only so much Call of Duty a guy can play.
Which might beg the question why I stay in this small town if there’s not much action, but it suits me. I didn’t show up here from the lower forty-eight until I was in my early twenties. I’m a bit of a loner to begin with, so moving to a place that wasn’t overpopulated seemed like a perfect idea. Plus, touring on my bike without having to drive an hour out of the city before it was enjoyable is a good way to live.
So, though I took the extra job as a way to fill my time, it doesn’t mean I don’t like my life, it’s just that lately I’ve felt like maybe it was time for… more. More what, I’m not sure. But something is missing.
I park my bike around the back of the shop knowing the back door will be locked, I walk around the building to the front and step inside. I’m only a few steps in when I come to an abrupt halt, seeing who’s standing there.
Reagan Hastings.
And Brooklyn Bailey, but my eyes only focus on the woman whose long, curly dark hair is always wild looking, and whose curves I know from experience fit to my large body perfectly.
Reagan stares back at me with a stunned expression.
“Hey, Moose,” Liam says, stepping out from the back and pulling me from my revery. “I just put the paychecks in the slots in my office.”
We only get paid once a week but we get cashed out on tips every shift, so each employee has their own slot in Liam’s office.
“Yeah, thanks.” I rip my eyes away from Reagan and look over at Liam.
“How’s it going, Moose?” Brooklyn asks.
“It’s goin’. You?” I grunt.
“Not bad. Reagan’s getting her first tattoo tonight,” Brooklyn says. “I’m here for moral support.”
Reagan’s the one getting the tattoo. Interesting. Last time we… were together she didn’t have any ink on her gorgeous body. I explored every inch of her many times over—with my tongue.
Obviously, she’s chosen Liam to tattoo her. My hands clench at my sides at the thought of someone else’s hand inking something on Reagan’s virgin skin. It shouldn’t matter. Reagan made it clear that she wasn’t interested in me, but it still stings.
“Cool. Well, see ya.” I stomp in my Doc Martens to the back of the shop and Liam’s office.
I know I’m coming off as a prick, but it’s not like I’m known for my conversational skills anyway. But this is the closest I’ve been to Reagan in years, and it’s… too much.
I go over to the slot and pull the envelope from it, fold it in half and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. Then I turn and stomp from the office back toward the door, anxious to get out of here.
Liam’s wife, Savannah, is in the parlor along with their toddler, Brinley, when I come out. Brinley is not happy, the kid is screaming in Savannah’s arms, wailing at the top of her lungs.
“Looks like I missed all the fun,” I say, and Liam looks at me over his shoulder, giving me the cut eye.
Brooklyn walks over and tries to rub her niece’s back to calm her. “The cut looks bad, Sav,” she says.
“It hurts,” she wails, sobbing into her mom’s chest.
Savannah looks over at Liam with pleading eyes. I glance over Brooklyn’s shoulder to see Brinley’s cut on her leg is oozing blood.
He pushes his hands through his hair and looks over at me. We both know he’s gotta leave.
Savannah looks over at me. “We were leaving Lard Have Mercy after our dinner and she fell down and cut herself on something.”
I can tell Savannah is worried.
Liam returns with the first aid kid and bends to whisper into Brinley’s ear, “This might hurt a little, but you’re a strong little girl, right?”
She shakes her head against her mother’s chest, not bothering to look over at him.
Liam looks to Savannah investigating the cut. It’s way too deep for just a Band-Aid.
“You know what, we can do this another night. It’s no big deal,” Reagan says.
“No, today is the anniversary.” Brooklyn frowns at her friend because what choice do they have at this point..
It’s then I realize what today is and my gaze darts over to her. She peeks up at me for a brief second before she looks at Liam.
“It’s fine. Really.”
“I’ll do it.” The words are out of my mouth before I consider the repercussions of this decision. Everyone in the room turns to look at me, and I shrug like it’s no big thing. “You know, if it needs to be tonight. Just sayin’, I can do it.”
“You sure, man? What about your—” Liam starts.
“It’s fine.”
Brooklyn turns to Reagan. “What do you think?”
“Um, yeah. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” She looks less than thrilled with the idea and I don’t know if it’s because it’s me or just because today is the anniversary of her mother’s death. Whatever, I’m not gonna overthink it.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Savannah says in a rush of words. “I’m not really good when she gets hurt and the fact she needs to go to the hospital.”
Brinley’s head pops up and she turns, reaching out for her dad who takes her in his arms. Savannah blows out a breath and gives me a look of gratitude. I have no idea what it would be like to have a kid nor do I know if I’ll ever find out.
“She’ll be fine. Just think of Rome and Denver and how many injuries they had growing up,” Brooklyn says, smoothing her hand down her sister’s back..
Savannah nods at her sister. “They were swinging from jungle gyms, she just fell off a curb.”
“It’s my wild streak,” Liam says with a chuckle.
Savannah rolls her eyes.
“Thanks again, Moose. Really appreciate it,” he says.
“It’s no trouble. I just gotta make a call first. Be right back.” I head back to the office without looking at Reagan again, because I’m going to have to touch her for the next couple hours depending on what kind of ink she wants and that’ll be hard enough.
I pull my cell from my pocket and pull up the number for the owner of Poppy’s so I can call off work for the night. He won’t be happy, but it is what it is.
I’m there for the people I care about when they need me, even if they no longer care about me.
Chapter Three
Reagan
“That was nice of Moose, wasn’t it?” Brooklyn says, sitting beside me in the waiting area.
“Yeah, definitely.” I shift in my seat, eyeing the hallway he just disappeared down.
Liam, Savannah, and Brinley have all left to go to the hospital, leaving just
the three of us in the shop. But Moose is still in the back doing, well, whatever it is he needed to do.
I’m shocked he offered to do my tattoo. The last time we spoke, things got heated. But everyone else here was none the wiser, so what could I say except, yes? But the idea of him looming over me for an hour or two, his body so close to mine… I’m already struggling to breathe.
He still looks amazing. Six-foot-six of real man wrapped in muscle and tattoos. He still shaves his head, and the tattoos on his neck still stick out from under the collar of his shirt. I momentarily think of the way my tongue used to trace those patterns up his neck and my eyes drift closed.
“Are you okay?” My eyes snap open at Brooklyn’s voice, and I turn my head in her direction.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know, you look flushed or something.” She places the back of her hand on my forehead like the mom she is now and shrugs. “You feel fine.”
Moose’s heavy footsteps sound in the hall and I glance back in that direction. His gaze is trained on me the entire way down the hall, and I suppress a shiver. I forgot what it’s like to be the focus of his attention under his blue gaze.
“Sorry ‘bout that. So what were you looking for, Reagan?”
“I uh… well…” I stumble over my words at first—it’s been a long time since I’ve heard my name from his lips. “I want to get a rainbow. Preferably something that looks like a watercolor where the colors all blend into each other.”
He nods. “Where you want it?”
Moose always was a man of few words.
“Right here.” I point to my rib cage just below my right breast.
He audibly swallows and a muscle tics in his neck. Brooklyn looks between us a couple of times.
“Let me get somethin’ drawn up and we’ll see what you think.” Without waiting for my answer, he turns around and heads over to his station, sitting down and pulling out his pad of paper and a pencil.
Brooklyn and I chat about nothing in particular while we wait. I’m acutely aware that Moose hears every word out of my mouth. Close to a half hour later, Moose heads back over to us and shows me a few options to choose from. He’s so talented it’s hard not to love them all but I make my pick, to which he nods.
“Go lie down on my table. Take the bra off. I’ll give you somethin’ to cover up with when we get started.”
I stiffen in my seat. This is going to be awkward as hell, isn’t it? This man loathes me and I’m going to have to lie there half naked in front of him. I blow out a breath and stand before walking over to his table.
Thank God I carry a big purse because I shove my bra in there after I’ve removed it from under my T-shirt. Brooklyn is holding my coat. It might be the end of June, but it can be cool at night.
I lay down on the table while Moose messes around beside me, getting his station ready.
Brooklyn’s standing to my side. “Oh shoot, you know what? I just saw Colton go into Lucky’s across the street. I need to ask him something about Gizmo. You’re all good here, right Reagan?”
“Um…” She’s seriously stranding me for her dog?
She starts walking toward the door. “I’ll just leave your jacket here and be right back, okay?” She’s out the door before I can argue and suddenly it’s too quiet in here, even with the hard rock playing over the speakers.
Moose says nothing and maybe it’s just me, but the tension is getting so thick in here that I could choke on it.
“Moose, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I say in a small voice.
“Here’s a towel. Lift up your shirt and you can cover yourself with this.” He tosses a white hand towel onto my stomach without looking at me or even responding to what I said.
With a frown, I take the towel and do what he says, strategically using it to cover myself. But I know this isn’t going to work. The end of it is going to get in his way and I’ll have to remove it and cover my breast with my hand. How do I know this? Because I asked him about it once and I was insanely jealous at the time that bare-chested women could be lying on his table on any given night.
But given our history, I think he’s trying to make me comfortable.
Moose might be huge and imposing and scary at times, but deep down a gruff, yet gentle giant. It’s one of the things I loved most about him.
“Ready to get started?” He spins on his stool to face me and our eyes meet.
All I’m able to do is nod. Being this close to him brings me back to a time when life felt simpler. Once my mom was diagnosed, everything changed and so looking at Moose has always made me feel a level of regret, but I push that aside.
My life has changed once again. My mom has been gone a year and I’m just starting to find my footing and am ready to think about living my own life.
He looks away and grabs the alcohol rub, cleaning the area where the tattoo will go and then after it dries, he presses the stencil to my skin. I pretend the feeling of his hands so close to my breast doesn’t affect me but I’m pretty sure he’s probably picked up on the fact that my breathing has become stoic.
“All right. Head over to the mirror and see if you like where it’s positioned.” He dodges all eye contact when he speaks, instead he fiddles around with something at his station. I pull my shirt down and remove the towel at the same time then walk over to the mirror, cupping my breast when I pull up my shirt to check it out.
“Looks good,” I say.
He nods, turns away from me and my shoulders sag at how obvious it is that he can’t stand to be around me. I have to make this right, make him understand, so he doesn’t hate me anymore. Even if we can no longer be lovers, maybe we can be friends.
“Hop up.” He pats the table and I do as he says. He goes to hand me the towel again when I lay down and I shake my head. “Take the towel,” he says in a gruff voice.
“I know it’s going to get in your way. It’s fine.” I pull my shirt up and cup my right breast with my left hand in one fell swoop.
He sighs, shakes his head, and turns to reach for his tattoo needle. When he looks back around, he meets my gaze. “I’m sorry about your mom. Never got to tell you that when she passed. But I’m gonna make this nice for you, so don’t worry.”
Tears well in my eyes as the needle meets my skin. He knows. Without me even having to tell him he knows the significance and the purpose of what I’m doing.
Moose must see that I’m upset because the sound of the needle stops and he looks over at me. The look of annoyance no longer on his face. “You okay?”
I nod, lips pressed together.
He doesn’t say anything and goes back to work.
Moose always was a man of few words but being here with him today highlights for me just how much I hate that we’ve become virtual strangers.
Chapter Four
Moose
Hell.
This is pure fucking hell.
Being this close to Reagan again means I’m surrounded by the scent of her cherry blossom body lotion. I have to see and feel the smoothness of her skin as I press the needle. Watch her chest rise and fall with every labored breath.
I’m used to naked chicks on my table, but this isn’t just some broad with her hand over her tit. It’s the one woman who broke my heart.
Back before Reagan’s mom got sick, we went out a few times. I knew she was something special then and how some dumb fuck like me got her to agree to go out I’ll never know. But she did and because I’m not completely stupid, I recognized what an amazing woman she was. We had a connection I’d never felt with anyone before, and I was determined not to screw it up.
Little had I known it would be her that would throw it all away. Citing the fact that she had too much on her plate and needed to concentrate on her mom, she pushed me away and ended things. I tried to tell her that I’d be there to support her but she had none of it. She wanted to be an island of one and there was no room for anyone—especially me.
Then sh
e came knocking on my door seeking comfort. And that’s exactly what I gave her—in the form of multiple orgasms. She’d pop up sporadically over the next few years and I told myself that any part of her was better than no part of her. Until it wasn’t and when it wasn’t we had a blowout and I told her never to come knockin’ on my door again unless she was there for more than just a quick lay.
“I didn’t know you could do watercolors.” Her voice pulls me from my memories.
I shrug a shoulder. “Honey, I can do anythin’ I put my mind to. Not my usual jam but I make it work.” Damn it. How the hell did I let the word honey slip past my lips. It’s what I used to call her back in the day. “So why the rainbow?” I ask to move things along. Maybe she won’t notice my slip.
She goes on to explain the significance of the rainbow and I nod, vaguely remembering her mentioning it to me once.
“This okay?” I ask, having to hover over her to work on the far side of her tattoo.
“Yep.” But her yep sounds more like a yelp.
I think she’s nervous. Or maybe horny.
I swear when I look down sometimes, the way she’s looking up at me makes me think there’s desire in her eyes, but I’m obviously delusional.
It takes a huge effort to keep my gaze on where I’m working and not the hand holding her breast. Reagan doesn’t have overly large tits but they’re the perfect size for her body. If I leaned in a bit, my tongue could slide over her nipple like she used to like. As though she can read my mind I swear she presses her thighs together and her breathing picks up.
I clear my throat and lose myself in the buzzing of the needle, forcing myself to concentrate. I want her to think of me every time she looks at this tattoo. Maybe that’s selfish because I know this is about her mom but it’s how I feel all the same.
She winces when I get to a particularly sensitive spot by her ribcage.
“Need a break?” I ask.