by K. S. Thomas
“Guess you’re being summoned.” Madi smiles, tilting her head to the side. Even she’s taking pity on me.
“Guess so.” I don’t smile back, not even at Liv. I don’t need to give Madi and the girls any more ammunition to humiliate me with in regard to my attraction to a woman I so don’t stand a chance with. And yet, I can’t give it up. My stupid boyhood crush has morphed into something way bigger than I ever could have imagined. And now I have but one choice: making her mine.
Whether it’s intentional or not, Liv and I don’t cross paths again the rest of the party, but that doesn’t stop me from following through on taking Sketch up on her offer and showing up at their shop first thing the next day.
When I walk in, I’m instantly greeted by wild colors and loud music. Art of all themes and genres covers the walls and every piece of furniture seems like a one of a kind item. I’m still taking it all in when a woman’s voice rings out over the music.
“Welcome to Pink.”
I turn toward the left to find a large reception desk and two women standing behind it. Both are covered in ink from head to toe and are definitely a few years younger than Olivia and Sketch. While the one on the right is wearing a knee length skirt and high heels with bright red lipstick and a long brown ponytail down her back, the other is wearing ripped jeans and a barely there tank with short blonde hair she’s got tossed up on her head Jonny Bravo style. She’s the one talking to me.
“Do you have an appointment?”
I can’t tell if it’s because she’s yelling at me across the room over the music or if it’s just her abrasive nature, but there’s an edge to her tone that already tells me this one’s got a scary side.
“Not exactly.” I walk up to the desk so neither of us has to shout. “I’m here to see Olivia.”
Female Jonny Bravo exchanges a look with the tattooed Audrey Hepburn, both of whom smirk when they turn their attention back on me.
Still staring me square in the eyes, the blonde shouts out, “Hey Sketch. There’s some guy here to see O-li-vi-a.” She elongates every syllable dramatically as she says her name and I get the distinct feeling there’s an inside joke happening here I’m not privy to.
When I turn my head, I can see Sketch’s black hair slightly bobbing up and down behind the four paneled room divider used to separate their work stations.
“Heartbreaker’s out back dealing with dipshit. She’ll be back in a sec.” Her head tips back allowing her to peer over the edge. “Hey, Lucas.”
“Hi, Sketch.” I wave, feeling like an idiot. Never in my life have I been as intimidated as I am right at this moment, and I’ve been to war.
I’m about to go take my seat in the corner across the room, as far away from these women as possible, when Audrey Hepburn decides it’s her turn to chime in.
“So, how to you know Heartbreaker?”
Somehow telling her she’s friends with my mom isn’t the answer I want to go with. Nor do I want to mention that her niece is my cousin.
“Uh, we have mutual...people.”
Jonny Bravo snorts. “Kinky.”
“He’s Pru’s kid,” Sketch fills them in, and I can actually feel myself turn red. I don’t think that’s happened since I was twelve.
Meanwhile, this information seems to entertain the scary blonde even more. “You’re the avocado!” Her gaze runs up and down my body in slow motion and I feel uncomfortably naked. Being so blatantly objectified is a new experience for me. “I don’t know what her problem is. You look plenty ripe to me.” Her eyebrow arches as her tongue slides seductively over her lower lip. She’s not really hitting on me though. She’s taunting me. Fucking with my head because she can probably smell the fear as it oozes out of me.
“Um, if nicknames are like a thing here, can we address mine? I’d just as soon not be known as ‘The Avocado’ from this day forward. Also, if I have a choice, I’d prefer not to wind up with something in the way of ‘Dipshit’ either.”
Jonny Bravo chuckles, reaching her hand out to pat my chest. “Calm down there, lady killer. You’ve gotta come around more than once before we care enough to name you.”
“So, Dipshit comes around a lot?” I try to make it sound casual, but the truth is, it’s quietly nagging at me that Olivia is still busy outside with someone who probably didn’t land that moniker without good reason.
“Dipshit comes around more than we’d like.” Hepburn eyes me like she’s reading my insides. “Not to worry though. He’s not anything Heartbreaker can’t handle.” Maybe she was reading them.
“You’ll notice we don’t call him ‘Badass’ or ‘Beast’,” Jonny Bravo adds, laughing at her own joke.
“Who do we call Beast?” The sound of her voice pulls at my entire body in a way that’s almost magnetic.
“Oh, those two dingbats were just filling in your boyfriend about Dipshit.” Sketch sums up the previous conversation for Liv without even looking up from her work.
“It was sweet. He was worried about you,” a deep voice follows hers and I suddenly become awkwardly aware of the man Sketch is obviously tattooing. Somehow I’d allowed myself to have the mistaken impression that I was alone with these girls. Seems stupid now. I knew she was working on someone. Out of sight out of mind now means something completely different to me.
Meanwhile, Liv has reached the front desk and she’s taking turns frowning at each of us.
“Fucking awesome.” She glares at Jonny Bravo who throws up her hands, professing her innocence.
“Why the hell do I always get blamed for everything around here?”
Hepburn simpers, but Liv turns on her next. “Don’t even try that sweet girly bullshit, Princess. We all know you’re the nosy one. She might have blabbed, but I’d put down money you’re the one who started the damn conversation to begin with.”
Hepburn, or, Princess, glances down at her empty wrist. “Oh, look at the time. I’ve got an appointment to prep for.” She grins widely before she hurries off, dragging Jonny Bravo behind her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Apparently it’s my turn now.
“Um...nothing. It’s just...I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like that.” I thought the blonde was scary, but now I’m starting to think she learned her brassy ways from Liv.
“Lucas, nearly every one of our previous interactions over the years have been at your parents’ house. I value their friendship and respect their boundaries, but this is my shop, and here, there are no boundaries.”
I smile, finally having heard something I like. “I can work with no boundaries. Actually, that’ll really help.”
Her stern expression crashes and there’s a brief moment as surrender flashes in her eyes. Then she recovers. “Doubt it.”
Chapter Five
Heartbreaker
After dealing with Marcus and his bullshit, the last thing I was expecting was to walk in and find the sight of another man pleasant, but here we are. The worst part of it is, I’m actually sort of happy to see him. Right now. Right after dealing with Marcus and his bullshit. Lucas left a lingering feeling of safety in his wake after he spent the night with me five years ago, holding me, keeping me from losing my mind and putting all the pieces back in place so I could get up the next day and do what needed to be done. Including this shop. I owe him. I knew this, but somehow it hasn’t fully sunk in to what extent until this very moment, seeing him here, in this business he helped me build. The business he named.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says, as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“Thanks.”
His expression is warm, but serious when he locks his eyes on mine. “I knew you could do it, you know.”
I nod. “I do,” I admit as quietly as humanly possible. No one, not even Sketch, knows the role he played in getting me here, “but I’m guessing you came for more than a tour of the new shop.”
God, why do I feel like I’m fucking melting again? The AC is running on full blast and unl
ike every other encounter I’ve had with Lucas lately, today I’m not wearing a hundred layers of clothing. I’m barely wearing one. Of all the days to raid Madi’s closet for a summer dress, today is probably the worst one I could have chosen. I’m never putting off doing laundry ever again.
“Why don’t you come on back. We can take a look at your shoulder and talk about what you want to do to fix it.” I turn back toward the girls. “Anyone hear from Cherry yet?” She’s the youngest of us all and only been working at the shop for a little over a year, but she’s already the best piercer I’ve ever had here. Recently, she’s started working with Sketch and me to start tattooing as well. This would be an excellent teaching case, if for no other reason than I don’t want any alone time with Lucas. At all.
“She called a few minutes ago. Trouble with the old man, can’t come in until later,” Princess fills me in from her corner station where she’s huddled up with Mouth, probably making fun of me.
“Too bad. This would have been a good one for her to work on.” I shrug, acting as though I had no ulterior motive when inquiring about her whereabouts. I nod toward the station in the back beside Sketch to let Lucas know where we’re headed, and he follows me there.
I take my seat and wind up getting a semi-obstructed stare down from my best friend. “You were going to let an intern fix his piece? Are you insane?”
I screw up half my face in response. “I was going to watch her.”
Lucas clears his throat, reminding all of us that he’s still here and can hear everything we’re saying. “Um, I’m starting to not feel so hot about this.”
“Well, there’s still time to back out,” I offer happily, honestly hoping he’ll take me up on it, but he just laughs.
“Forget it, Heartbreaker. No way you’re getting rid of me that easy.”
It’s weird hearing him call me that. It shouldn’t be – people have been calling me Heartbreaker since I was sixteen – but Lucas isn’t people. He’s Lucas. And he shouldn’t call me that.
I smirk. “It was worth a shot.”
“You know, I talked to Memphis last night. I feel like maybe he should have warned me about your girls here. They’re a little scary.” He chuckles softly, but given his deep voice it sounds raspy and hot as hell.
“Probably.” I laugh. “He must think pretty highly of you not to. Either that or he hates your ass and hopes an afternoon here with us will be hell for you.”
“He definitely doesn’t hate me,” he assures me, in his annoyingly confident way.
“I know.” I search the top drawer for a pad of paper I haven’t already scribbled on and sit back in my seat.
“Is it that obvious that I’m not in hell right now?” He flashes me an all too familiar grin. It’s the kind that sends heat rushing to my face and makes me temporarily forget ninety percent of my vocabulary. He really needs to stop doing that.
To buy myself time and give the blood in my system a chance to return to its regular process of circulation, I turn my head and pretend to look for a pen until I come up with a semi-witty response I can deem acceptable.
“Purgatory can be deceiving.” I’m fairly certain it’s safe to face him again. “But you’re right, if Memphis really didn’t like you, he would have told you to go across town and have blind as a bat Bart work on you instead.” I like Bart well enough, but I’m pretty sure minors and drunks are the only ones still keeping him in business.
I notice Lucas drop a guilty glance toward his left bicep and I bite back a snide smile, realizing he’s already familiar with Bart’s work.
“Don’t worry, I can fix that too.” Pen and paper in hand, I exhale loudly. “But first, let’s take a look at the damage. Time to take off the shirt and give me a peek at that tat on your back.” Given his constant need to hit on me regardless of how uncomfortable it makes me or how inappropriate it is, I fully expect him to make ample use of his dangerously adorable dimples while making some cocky comment about how he’s more than happy to get naked with me. But, to my surprise, and slight disappointment, he’s more mature than I am and simply slips off the cotton shirt and drapes it over his knee.
For the last five minutes I’ve done everything within my power to avoid looking at him. Now, that’s not exactly an option, and I can tell half a second into viewing his tight, toned torso again that my instincts to look anywhere but at him were dead on. He’s fucking beautiful and my eyes can’t help but drink him in one delicious drop at a time.
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring when I finally register that I’m supposed to be checking out his shoulder...not his abs. Or that torturous V that disappears right below the waistband of his low hanging jeans. The boy needs to start wearing a belt, for my sake.
I cough, choking on my own spit. It could be worse. I could be wiping drool from my chin.
“You alright there?” He reaches over to pat my back.
“Uh-huh.” There’s no way I’m looking him in the eyes. Not now, probably not ever again. “Let’s see what’s happening back here.” I roll my stool around the chair he’s sitting on and I feel instantly cooler, no longer burning under the heat of his gaze. Of course, it doesn’t hurt either that I’m right beneath the AC vent now.
“Wow. This is pretty shitty looking, and not just because of the scarring. Who did this piece?” It’s amateur at best. My guess, some jackass who shows up to tat teens in their mom’s kitchen when no one else is home. It’s not even Bart bad. It’s horrendous.
“Some dude Memphis knew. I know it’s shit work, but I was a day away from being eighteen and I paid fifty bucks for it. I wasn’t expecting much.”
I sigh, shaking my head at the abomination on his shoulder. “I would have waited another day. Also, you should stop being friends with Memphis. I don’t think he likes you after all. Either that, or he’s head-butted too many bulls to know better anymore.”
He laughs. “Must be the bulls.”
“Must be.” I release a deep breath. Things are finally starting to feel a little normal between us again.
Lucas
The next twenty minutes or so pass in silence while she examines my scarred skin and evaluates the ink half covering it. She doesn’t say anything at all when she starts sketching a rough design on her notepad while I watch her, equally tightlipped. It’s better than what my mouth was doing before, when the words were just sort of shooting out of it. It’s not like I have a hard time talking to women. I’m not stupid. I know the sort of impression I make when I first show up. I’m tall, I work out like it’s a second religion and the military instilled a strong belief in always presenting myself at my best. Plus, I have the added benefit of taking after my grandfather in the looks department. I’ve been told the man had a wife who needed to beat the other women away with a stick just to land him. I’ve also been told I have his green eyes and smile often enough to know some of his more handsome features trickled down to me. I’m not arrogant though. I don’t expect that initial interest in my looks to get me far. I’ve got schmoozy charm too, compliments of my father, but I hate it. Not that any of it matters a damn with Liv. She’s known me since I was eleven, saw me through puberty. Then she disappeared off the face of the earth until our paths crossed again five years ago, under the worst possible circumstances, but it didn’t matter. The shift happened. We were both adults. Finally. My attraction to her was no longer one-sided, even if it still wasn’t welcomed.
“What about something like this? I’ll clean it up some of course, but this gives you a rough idea of how I could implement what’s already there and turn it into a bigger, more dramatic piece.” She hands me her notepad and I’m actually speechless. She didn’t ask me one single question about the design; didn’t ask if it meant anything beyond the stupid decision Memphis and I made to get a tattoo together when we were still minors, or whether I wanted to keep the original or go for something completely new, and it doesn’t matter. She nailed it. Nailed it in a way I didn’t even know could be done.
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br /> “Wow.” I run one hand through my hair, rubbing my scalp as if that will somehow help reactivate my brain below it. “I don’t know...how did you...it’s perfect.”
She smiles, and it’s uncharacteristically sweet. “And, it’ll still match the one Memphis has.”
“He told me you’d blow me away with your design, but I didn’t expect this. I don’t even know what I was expecting. “
She twists her fingers back and forth in her lap, a sort of quiet sadness moving in over her. I remember it. I’ve seen it before. “He came to see me the night he heard your Humvee was hit.” She shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course, it wasn’t until I saw your tat the other day that I realized it was you. I still can’t believe it. No one ever told me.”
“I don’t think my dad told anyone. Military notified him when it happened. He called me a few days later, told me not to bother calling home, just because I was hurt. If I couldn’t manage to keep my mother informed of my wellbeing, I had no business worrying her now when I’d gotten myself blown up.” I snort. My father is a real class act behind closed doors.
Liv looks like she’s about to go off on a rant, then swallows it down with a fierceness in her eyes that would scare even my old man.
“Memphis came in like a man on a mission that night. He said he needed something stronger, something powerful enough to save a soldier. I worked on it for seven hours straight. He wouldn’t leave until it was done. I think he felt helpless and completely out of his element for the first time in a really long while and it scared him. I mean, it’s Memphis. He’s a fighter. Fearless. But this was the only thing he could think to do for you that night.”