Inked Temptation (Inked Series, #1)

by Maree, Kay

  Erica speaks, snapping me back to the present. I need to have my head fucking examined, this zoning out shit is not fucking helping.

  “I think I had too much to drink last night." She groans, flops into a seat at the small table in the middle of the room and lowers her head to the table. Her mousy blonde hair fans out around her.

  “You good to go today or not?" I snap.

  Fuck, that’s all I need today, to have to find someone to cover her shift. I may have no choice but to call in Justin even though he’s worked the past seven days straight and I know he needs a day off. We’re usually pretty quiet on a Thursday, but for some reason, I’m fully booked and so is Beau. We can’t take walk ins today which is why I asked Erica to come in, she could cover anyone who comes in.

  “What’s up your ass?" she hisses out.

  I look over my shoulder in time to see her wince at the loudness of her own voice. Fuck, it's going to be a long day. I shake my head and turn back to focus on the coffee. I have no intention of talking about it. I’m a private person, I don’t share much, even with Beau.

  “Nothing," I finally manage to grunt.

  Fuck! I need to get my shit together. Running my hand down the side of my face, I feel the rough stubble from not shaving, there’s a few days growth. Fuck, I can’t even be bothered to shave. I blow out a deep breath, pick up my coffee and head towards the door. I’m done with this shit today and it’s not even 9 am yet.

  “I think some pussy has him all fucked up.” Beau laughs from behind me.

  I feel my muscles tense and lock when he says the word pussy. I’m used to him being a man whore and the shit which comes out of his mouth, but for some reason, possessiveness grips me when he calls my mystery girl – pussy. Before I have a chance to call him on it, Erica pipes up.

  “You’re fucking disgusting sometimes, Beau."

  “What the fuck ever, you love my ass,” he fires back, still chuckling.

  I shake my head and head towards my station while Erica continues giving him shit. It's the same shit, just a different day with them. They need to fuck each other and get it out of their system, even I can feel the tension between the two of them.

  After a couple of mouthfuls of coffee, I start to feel a little better. After placing the coffee down on my desk, I reach over and flick on the power of the sound system which is built into the wall. The first bars of Enter Sandman by Metallica blasts from the speakers. Grabbing plastic wrap, I go about preparing my station before my first client arrives.

  Leaning back in my chair, I stretch the aching muscles in my back after finishing a huge piece of a dragon on the guy’s back. It’s fucking stunning, but I felt like I was going crossed eyed while making sure not to fuck up the intricate detail on the damn thing. Rolling my head back on my shoulders, I push to my feet. I’m in desperate need of another coffee.

  “Thanks man, it’s fucking awesome.” Jeff, my client, studies the tatt in the large mirror on the wall. This is his third visit to get this piece done. I’m stoked it turned out great and he likes it.

  “No probs, man. Go and see Erica out the front, she’ll fix you up.” I nod towards the front desk where Erica is busy doing some paperwork.

  “Sure, maybe I’ll finally get that date I’ve been after.” He smiles before sauntering towards the front, his shirt still off.

  I turn to look at Beau when he growls low in his throat. He doesn’t notice me, he’s totally focused on Jeff and I swear I hear him mumble – like fuck.

  I shake my head and look through the cut-out window which lets us see the waiting area out front. A chuckle leaves me when Jeff leans over the desk and runs a finger down the side of Erica’s face. I laugh harder when Beau jumps to his feet and rushes out to the front.

  “Erica, I can fix him up, go grab yourself a coffee,” Beau barks out.

  I don’t hear her reply as I head down the hall, but I have confidence in Erica’s ability to handle herself....and Beau.

  I flick the kettle on and glance up at the clock. It’s almost 2pm. Another hour and I’ll take my lunch break. Hopefully, I’ll get to see my girl. Fuck, I run a hand down the side of my face. How the shit did she become my girl?

  “What the fuck is Beau’s problem?” Erica snarls as she steps into the kitchen.

  I’m amazed she has to ask. Beau has had a hard on for her ever since he first saw her, but his usual come ons haven’t worked on her at all. I shrug, not giving the game away, this shit is funny to watch.

  “Fucking men,” she grumbles as she moves towards the fridge.

  “Your father just walked in as Jeff left,” she says over her shoulder.

  She speaks just as the man himself walks through the door.

  “Son,” he smiles while looking around.

  “Dad, is everything okay? Do you want a coffee?”

  “Everything is fine. Can’t I just stop by to see my son?” He chuckles “Coffee would be good.”.

  I go about fixing another cup as he takes a seat at the table.

  “What’s happening, dad?” I ask as I pour milk into the cups.

  “I’ll just be out front, I’ll call out when your next appointment turns up.”

  “Thanks Erica.” I continue stirring the coffees.

  Dad stops by probably once a week to chat and I don’t mind. My father is my fucking hero. He used to be a firefighter and had always wanted me to be one. The day I came home and told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, I thought he’d lose his shit but he has supported me since the beginning. He even sends his old fire buddies to see me as well as the new recruits. He still trains the new guys but doesn’t work in the field anymore, not since my mom got sick.

  “How’s mom doing?” I feel a lump form in my throat every time I think of her.

  “Good, she misses you.” He nods and looks down at his cup when I place it in front of him.

  I notice how much older he seems to look today. He's a big man with dark hair and green eyes, I look just like him except, I have more tattoos than he does. I notice his hair has a few more grays spread throughout and the dark circles under his eyes seem to be blacker. I know he finds it hard to sleep. My mother is his soulmate and knowing he can’t do shit to help her, guts him.

  One night over drinks, he had a little too much and told me how much it fucks with his head. He hates knowing there is nothing he can do to stop this fucking disease from taking her mind. It must be hard as shit for the love of your life not to know who you are after so long. My parents have been together since they left high school. My father said, from the moment he set eyes on my mum, he knew she was the one for him.

  I clear my throat and try to concentrate on the conversation instead of thinking about all the other shit. It makes me think of the situation I find myself in with my mystery girl and now is not the time to be thinking of her.

  “I saw her on Monday.”

  “Yeah, the nurse told me. She also said it was a bad day.”

  I nod, it was a bad day. I doubt she remembers I was even there. What the fuck, I doubt she even knew who I was! My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease last year and shit has been hard on all of us. It fucking sucks to watch such a strong woman slowly forgetting things, especially her family, those she loves most of all.

  “I’ll come over after I finish work.” I watch as a small smile graces my father’s lips. I know he needs me now more than ever.

  “Good, I’ll grab something on the way home and we can have dinner together.”

  “Sounds good, dad.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ally

  “I’m going to take my lunch break now.” I look up at the clock to see it reads ten minutes to three. I always have a late lunch break, something about the afternoon sun has an effect on me.

  Cynthia looks up from the trolley of returned books she is stacking back onto the shelves. I work in the local library where I have been for a few years. There is something about working here which grounds me. I know it may soun
d weird, but the history and love stories which lie between the pages of the books lining the shelves, lets me get lost in a different world, even if it’s only for a brief time.

  “Okay.” She shrugs her shoulders, her voice snapping me out of my head.

  I like Cynthia, but it’s not like we’re friends. She doesn’t talk much either. It’s kind of comfortable, she seems to always be in her own world also.

  “I can bring you back a muffin if you want,” I smile. I’m not sure why I asked that. I’ve never really talked to her before, unless it had to do with work

  “That would be great. Thanks, Ally.” She smiles back at me.

  “No problem.”

  Feeling a bit out of my comfort zone, I turn and head to the desk to grab my bag.

  “Ally?” She speaks from behind me causing me to startle and my heart to beat faster

  Shit, get it together, Ally! I take a few deep breaths before turning around to face her. I notice the wide-eyed look she is giving me.

  “Sorry,” she apologizes.

  “It’s fine, I just didn’t expect you to be there.” I shake my head at my over-reaction.

  “I just thought you might want to grab a coffee after work today?”

  My first instinct is to tell her no, but when I look into her eyes again, I see a touch of sadness there. Something inside me shifts and maybe a coffee wouldn’t be so bad. I know she recently moved here from Queensland and she doesn’t really know anybody. What harm could come from one coffee?

  “Sure, sounds like a great idea.” I feel my stomach twist at the idea of allowing anybody in, but I can’t keep shutting people out. A friend is probably exactly what I need. It doesn’t mean I have to give her my life story. A huge smile spreads across her face and it makes me happy to see she’s excited to have coffee with me.

  “We’ll work out the details when you get back from your break.”

  “Sounds great.” I head out the door as a feeling of lightness washes over me.

  Taking the concrete steps down to the sand, I reach the bottom and slip off my ballet flats. Holding them in my hand, I scrunch my toes in the soft warm sand and let the feeling of calmness flow through me. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and let the warm summer sun soak into every pore while I breathe the salt air in. I always feel at peace at the beach, I’m not sure if it’s the air, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks or a combination of everything. I always remember the times my father brought me to the beach when I was young. We’d build sandcastles, explore the rock pools and swim in the rolling waves. It was like nothing could touch us while we were here, everything in the world settled and calmed. My father was always a happy man, but when we were near the water he seemed relaxed and carefree.

  “I miss you dad,” I whisper into the slight breeze as it floats around me.

  I feel closer to him when I’m here. Bending down I pick up a shell which is buried in the sand, Lifting it to eye level, I watch as the sun bounces off the water droplets which drip from the edge. My hair is lifted by the breeze and dances around me. That’s when I feel it and my skin prickles. It’s as if someone is watching me, it’s the same feeling every time I come down here.

  I look over my shoulder and see a man sitting on one of the old wooden benches. I can’t make him out, he’s too far away, but I can tell by the way the hairs on my arm stand on end, it’s the same man I see every time I come here.

  Dropping the shell, I rub my arms as goosebumps breakout across my skin. Turning back to the water, I try to shake off the strange feeling which has settled in the pit of my stomach. I take a few steps forward and let the cool water rush over my toes, calming me. After a few moments, I look down at my watch and notice I have been out here for almost forty-five minutes. Shit, I need to get back to work. I can’t believe how time flies when I’m here.

  Turning, I make my way back up the beach towards the stairs. Once I get to the top I rinse the sand off my feet and head back to the library. I’ll stop at a local cafe along the way and grab two muffins and coffees for Cynthia and me to have for afternoon tea. Swinging my shoes in one hand, giving my feet time to dry, I get the strange feeling of eyes on me again. I glance over my shoulder, but nobody is there. Shaking it off, I keep going I don’t want to be late.

  A few more hours of work pass and it’s finally time to head home. I’m grabbing my bag when Cynthia walks over to the desk to grab her stuff.

  “Are you still wanting to grab a coffee?” I hear the hope in her voice and feel bad that she thought it was such a hardship on me.

  “Of course, on my way back from lunch I spotted a little cafe called The 3 Monkeys. I haven’t been there before and it’s just down the road.”

  “That sounds perfect.” She reaches past me and grabs her belongings.

  “Thank God, it’s Friday.” She laughs and I nod, agreeing with her.

  “What would you usually do on a Friday night?” Cynthia asks as we head out the door.

  I try to think what a normal Friday night for me is like and guess I’m a little ashamed to admit, I don’t really do much.

  “I usually just stay at home, get take out and curl up in bed with my Kindle.”

  “Damn, this friendship might work after all!” She giggles and I laugh at her reaction

  “Why, what do you do?”

  “Pretty much what you said, but with a side of wine.”

  “Well, I don’t drink.” I shrug, not sure what to say and not ready to give her a reason as to why I don’t drink.

  “Well, I can drink enough for the two of us, no worries at all.” She laughs and I laugh again. She has a laugh which makes you join in and it also makes me feel lighter. I never really took much notice of her before, but she is really pretty. She has a pixie little face with black framed glasses which showcase honey colored eyes and beautiful shoulder length dark brown hair.

  Strolling down the street towards the café, we pass a few businesses which have closed up for the day. We stop to look into a couple of windows to see what they have and I notice a beautiful lace dress which is absolutely stunning.

  As we continue to walk, we chat about random things such as what we like to eat and so on. When we near a tattoo shop, Cynthia looks at me and then at the front door of the shop. I keep walking, not interested in going in there. Needles scare the shit out of me and I couldn’t imagine allowing someone to push one into my skin unless it was a medical emergency. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  I look back and realize how far ahead I am.

  “I’m guessing you don’t like tattoos.” She’s panting a little after having to run to catch up.

  “Oh, I love tattoos. I think there are some amazing artworks, it’s the needle part I have an issue with.” I laugh nervously.

  “It doesn’t hurt as bad as people think.”

  “You have a tattoo?” I sound surprised. She doesn’t seem like the type of person who would have one, but then again, I don’t really know her.

  “I have a few actually. In places where I can cover them up if I need to and some in places where I don’t have to watch.” She slides her watch aside and shows me a gorgeous, colorful butterfly.

  “Oh wow, that’s beautiful.” I grab her hand to take a closer look the wings which are scattered with oranges and reds with pink mixed in.

  “Yeah, I got it when I was eighteen. I have more, but I don’t think taking my shirt off in public would be a good idea.”

  “Um yeah, probably not,” I laugh with her.

  “Come on let’s have that coffee and maybe I can talk you into getting one for yourself one day,”

  “Hmm, I don’t see that happening so don’t hold your breath.”

  She links her arm through mine and we laugh as we head to the cafe a couple of stores down.

  “You would be amazed at how freeing it can be. If you find something you really like, that you could deal with for the rest of your life. Having it on me, I can l
ook at it and remember a specific time in my life that I never want to forget or, simply having a quote written on me which builds me up when I’m having a bad day.” She looks at me and I notice a touch of sadness in her eyes.

  It grips something in me, I know exactly what she means.

  She shakes her head as if erasing her thoughts “Does that sound weird to you?”

  “No, it makes perfect sense.”

  I nod, completely agreeing with her. I get it. I get what she means and maybe, just maybe, it might be what can help me too.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ally

  It’s been just over a week since I had coffee with Cynthia and our conversation has been running on a loop through my head ever since. I have thought constantly about tattoos and the way they mark certain moments in time. I guess it’s the reason why I find myself standing in front of the tattoo shop we passed by last week. I’m contemplating whether or not I should just suck it up and walk in there. I know what I want, but I have to swallow my fear so I can sit in a chair and have a needle stuck into me......over and over again!

  “Ah, screw it, you only live once,” I mumble to myself as I push through the glass doors and step inside. Cold air from the air conditioning, which must be cranked up high, assaults me and it’s welcomed. Outdoors is as hot as Hell. I wipe away the small droplets of sweat which had formed across my brows on the walk here and take a look around the small waiting area.

  Music wafts from the speakers overhead, I’m not sure of the song, but it has a good beat. I turn slightly and take in the large area – leather couches, magazines with images of tattoos laid out on a couple of small tables. Everything is neat and clean including the charcoal colored flooring. Overhead is a huge copper fan and I focus on it for a few moments. It spins slowly and is stunning in it’s raw simplicity. Bare brick walls with horizontal copper piping resembles an industrial warehouse, but there is warmth to this place. I bypass one of the huge leather couches to where photographs have been carefully hung from the pipes on one wall. So many beautiful pieces of art are showcased and I can’t resist the urge to run my fingertip over the cool glass, following the intricate lines of a beautiful Tree of Life image. It’s been placed over the ribs on the side of a body. I’m totally captivated and don’t realize someone is standing behind me until they speak.