by Isabel Wroth
“I was trying to get a grip. Is that my shirt? What bra do you have on?”
“Are you fucking serious?” She hissed, excusing them both from Frankie’s earshot, though the little fucker was grinning ear to ear, “Babe, you want that tat under your tits where you can see it every day, you will get zero argument from me. But you have this habit of wearing sexy fucking see through bras, and if you’re wearin one right now, we got a problem."
She just looked at him like he’d whacked her upside the back of the head with a two by four, then stuck her tongue in her cheek and made the sexiest little growl under her breath while she pulled out her phone and sent a text to someone, talking to herself. “Ever was so right. Tried to trick me, make me think you were more civilized than the rest of the guys, but I’m onto you.” She huffed, put her phone away and glared up at him, hands on her hips and gave him the sharp side of her tongue. God, he was a pervert. He loved it when she did that. Looked like a little sexy kitten that just got water poured on it. “Now you look here, clearly Frankie is a professional, and I’m sure he’s seen a pair of boobs before.”
“They’re my fuckin boobs, and he doesn’t get to see them.”
“Jesus, you...”
Her phone pinged and she looked at it, throwing her hand up like whatever she’d just read, confirmed something for her. “Neanderthal. Exactly. Like she read my fuckin mind. They’re MY boobs, thank you very little. They’re on my body, and you can go-“ He grabbed a handful of her hair and gripped it tight, tight enough to make her lashes flutter and a flush of arousal paint her cheeks. He leaned down, murmuring very softly, soft enough that she had to strain to hear him. “Keep sassin me, makin my dick hard and I will make you pay for it later.” She hissed softly, but not in anger, leaning into him and fisted her hands in his shirt. Her nipples were probably hard, and if she had on one of her lacy, see through bras, Frankie would be a dead man, because he wouldn’t be able to help himself and keep from staring at those pretty pink points.
“Frankie is going to have his hands on you to ink my brand onto your beautiful body. He’s an artist, and I’ve presented him with a blank, beautiful canvas to work on. If you think for one second he’s not going to picture you naked on his table, you’re being dense on purpose, and if I didn’t know the guy, this would be a big fuckin problem. Now, you can have your say, baby, but in this, you will not get your way. What bra are you wearing?”
“Ahem?”
He looked up from where he’d turned his face to Athena’s cheek, and saw Ripley standing there smirking at him, a little pink and white striped bag in her hand. “The purple one with flowers on it,” Athena murmured, “Which is why I asked Ripley if she was in town and could bring me something else.” He clicked his tongue at her and let her go, “You’ll get your say,” She repeated back to him with a little smirk, “But depending on how you say it, you might not always get your way.”
Ripley had brought her a black bikini top, that was as demure and full coverage as a bikini top could be, and she left his shirt on, just doing one of those girly things where she took and pulled the hem up through the neckline and made like a little crop top that could be moved aside easy for Frankie to work around. He sat down with her and held her hand while Frankie explained how it was going to go, while he gloved up, sanitized everything and carefully pressed the transfer paper down onto her white skin. Neither of them told her she’d picked one of the most painful areas to tattoo, but after the first initial sting, she blew his mind with how she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed into it. Frankie even looked at him from across her body and arched a brow in surprise. “Nice.” Was all he said, and kept going.
She smiled softly when he rubbed kisses to each of her fingers, wondering what she was thinking. He asked her once if she needed a break, if she was alright, and she took another deep breath. “Using a self-hypnosis technique. Barely feel anything at all.” Then she went quiet again while he was left to wonder what in the hell she was talking about.
TWENTY FOUR
It was driving her crazy, how bad she itched as the tattoo healed. She kept herself so covered in her own blend of wound healing salve, the tattoo totally feeling like a wound, that she’d taken to stealing Raid’s tees so that hers wouldn’t get stained or ruined. She’d been right that going without a bra for a week, hadn’t upset Raid any. It irked her, ever so slightly, how he thought it was an invitation to cup her boobs any time he felt like it, protecting them from gravity, he said while he pinched and rolled her nipples between his fingers. He was good at distracting her from being irked. He was also good at making her feel like his whole world.
He’d come up behind her earlier in the bathroom and seen her trying to pull her appropriated shirt up high enough to smear her chamomile and palmarosa balm on her truly stunning tattoo. He’d huffed a little sound of amusement, whipped his shirt off of her and ignored her when she squealed at him. His big hands had circled her hips, moving up to her belly, her ribs, stopping just shy of the ink and she’d watched his eyes settle there on her reflection, looking at the tattoo he’d chosen for her and looked…content. Happy. Satisfied in a very manly sort of way. He hadn’t said anything, but the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful, made her feel cared for when he took her jar of balm and spread it gently on her skin.
She loved how despite the hurt now, that Frankie had taken the henna like curls, loops and dots, the flowers, orange that faded to a delicate pink, all the way around to her back at an angle, like lace, or wings. She especially liked the little heart shaped locket that sat permanently inked between her breasts, with a keyhole in the center. It was so well done, that it looked like she could reach up and feel the rounded edge, cool metal instead of skin. The etching that curled over the front that she’d gotten pissy over at first, proclaimed her PROPERTY OF RAID. It made her feel like a cow, branded like he said, but now it just made her feel like…she belonged. It was beautiful, Raid had made it beautiful, just for her. “Here’s a fresh one,”
He peeled the shirt he’d been wearing off, which made her laugh because it so wasn’t fresh. He’d been gone all morning, she hadn’t had time to get a lot of details because Ripley had been calling her non-stop with orders, and she was freaking out because her workshop at the nursery wasn’t done yet. Some issue with the flooring that wasn’t up to Ever’s specifications, and Roar had apparently fucked up the electrical because he’d been trying to do it himself.
So now, having taken a break from the madness of making ingredient lists, lists of products she needed to get made asap, there they were in the bathroom together and Raid was shirtless. That in and of itself was awe inspiring on any given day, all his gorgeous, rippling muscles, but today was a bit different. Underneath the saranwrap bandage that wrapped around his pectorals, was an owl in flight. The head sat just below his collarbones, the wingtips stretched out to touch either side of his biceps. The lines were stark, tribal almost, but it’s body was made up of Celtic knots and carefully drawn lines, intricate, stunningly so. She stared with her mouth hanging open, hungrily eating up every inch of the bird. She almost started to cry when she noticed the round disk, dangling from a purple ribbon, tied to the skeleton key that was held tightly in its talons. A round disk, with a smaller owl stamped onto it. Her wax seal. Her wax seal, hanging from a purple ribbon with her name on it, wrapped around the key that would fit into the locket on her chest. “What…Raid,”
She couldn’t speak louder than a choked whisper, her hands actually shaking a little when she pressed them to his belly. She really couldn’t speak at all. Had no words. He just grinned like he was proud of himself, and pointed at the copy of one of her wax seals, “You know which one that is?” Which one? It took her a second to remember that he’d memorized the shape, feel and texture of each of the wax seals that had come attached to her letters to him. “The fifth one, where you were tellin me about Tahoe. Wanting to make me candles that smelled like Tahoe, so I’d be able to breathe th
at free air. That was the one where I started to fall for you.”
She licked her trembling lips and rolled the tears back, sniffling while she touched the edge of the plastic wrap. “It’s beautiful. But so not fair,” He chuckled darkly, taking her hands to push out to the side, walking her backwards with her arms stretched out on either side of her, until her butt hit the bathroom sink, “Not fair?”
“You picked my heifer stamp, how come I couldn’t get my bull by the balls to put my mark on him?”
His laughter rang out loud enough to echo in the big bathroom, shared the taste of it with her when he bent his head and kissed her hotly. “Babe, you got me by the balls and you know it. You can’t see the mark you made. You burned it on my heart.”
TWENTY FIVE
“Alright, spill it. That’s like, the fiftieth time you’ve done that whole, looking into the middle distance with a dreamy sigh,” Ever’s wryly amused demand snapped her out of her day dream, and yep, she’d been staring into the middle distance and sighed, dreamily. “You get laid, extra special in your sex chair this morning or what?” She burst out laughing, because it sounded like Ever was pretty jealous of her sex chair. She’d already texted Raid, asking him to set her up with the guy who’d made theirs, so she could give one to Roar and Ever as a baby shower gift. He’d sent her back a short,
On it.
Which to her meant that he was in the process of ordering the chair. So preemptively, she sent him her design specifications, in such detail that like she’d known he would, he gave over Stone’s information and told her it was already paid for. Stone, must have been told not to take her money, because she tried to pay for it, tried to go halfsies. No dice. “Sweetness, just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it. Your man has you covered.” He told her, his voice competing for Number One Sexiest Voice In the History of Sexy Voices. But seeing as how Raid was currently the score holder there, she’d made a new category, just for Stone. Number One Sexiest Phone Voice In the History of Sexy Phone Voices. He could have been a phone sex operator, and made millions by the end of his first week, he was that good, just speaking normal, every day words.
Ever whacked her with a stalk of dried Rosemary to get her attention, shaking her head because she’d wandered off in thought again. “No, no extra special sex this morning. I’m just…I’m happy.” Never Ever Land now was host to Athena’s Apothecary, and as fast as she could make her candles, and tinctures, and oils, they were being bought up. In bulk by Ripley, who couldn’t keep her stuff on the shelves at her little spot at Vintage Glamour. It was not a bad problem to have. “Well that’s fine, but this is not run of the mill happy. You’re not pregnant, right? Top cursed me and told me that babies come in threes, and I’m on number two. So for the love of god, you better be, or find me someone else to pass the curse onto.”
Ever was seven months along now, sassy and beautiful as ever, and it made her a little sad. She’d never know what that felt like, baking another human being inside her body. And for the most part, she was good with that. She’d never lose her girly figure, though Ever didn’t seem to be losing anything but her temper these days. Never get stretchmarks or have wacky post baby issues. “Sorry, no. I can’t,”
“Can’t what?”
“Have kids.”
Unlike most people, Ever didn’t tell her she was sorry. She was curious, not in a mean or malicious sort of way, and there was no pity. Not a single shred. Made it almost too easy to share, not having to worry that Ever would be uncomfortable hearing about it, or making her uncomfortable to tell it. “How’d that happen?” She hummed, using the nifty little tool Raid had ordered for her on a whim that stripped the leaves off of anything, by pulling the herb stalk through the appropriate sized hole. It was awesome. He’d been so thoughtful lately. “Freak accident when I was a kid, driver in front of us hadn’t properly fastened down a bunch of rebar in the back of his pick up. A piece of it came through the windshield, nailed me right in the gut, the car flipped when my dad tried to avoid the rest. Lost my parents and my uterus in one fell swoop, the doctors did a partial hysterectomy.” Still no pity. “That really fucking sucks. But, wait. You mean to tell me, you’ve never had your period. Ever?”
That got her to laugh, the outrage in her tone, the look of stark jealousy on her face. Perspective. It was all about the perspective. “Nope.” Ever winced and put a hand to her belly, grumbling under her breath about breakdancing in utero. “I’m going to get fixed after this one, partial hysterectomy sounds nice. No more periods, or babies.” She scoffed and listed all the complications and side effects, “It’d be easier for Roar to get his tubes tied. They’re all pretty much on the outside of his body.”
“Yeah right. You even mention cutting his body open in the general area of his balls, and he starts yelling.”
“Make it his idea. I know you know how, I’ve seen you do it.”
“Kind of a different deal, getting my house and this workroom built versus surgical procedures on his balls.”
“Tell him you made the appointment for after the baby’s born. Leave some research lying around, the papers that talk about side effects. The higher risk of cervical cancer, loss of sexual desire, pain during intercourse, hair loss, weight gain. Things like that. He’ll go running for the doctor’s office, just on the off chance he’d never get to have sex with you again.”
Ever slanted her a sideways look and pensively narrowed her eyes, quiet for a full minute before waving the stalk of rosemary like a wand and proclaiming to the room, “You, are evil. I knew we’d be besties.” She laughed on and off for a while after that, and Ever reminded her she still hadn’t told her what was with all the dreamy sighing. “Raid came home last week with an owl tattooed across his chest. After I got the one he designed for me.” She explained, Ever having blinked at her with lack of understanding plain on her face, tattoos were a way of life with bikers, so of course she wouldn’t get the significance. “Wait, you said you were just getting a tattoo. He branded you? Bitch! Why didn’t you say that in the first place? We’d have celebrated. Lemme see!”
There wasn’t anyone around, so she lifted her shirt, and her bra up a little to show Ever the gorgeous tattoo that circled her ribs. The locket between her breasts. Ever shared her awe at the beauty of it, “What are these?” She asked, her fingertips brushing over the flower petals, “Geraniums, Raid remembered that this gradient color blend was my favorite. The candles and paper I sent him in the hospital were all scented with Geranium and Rosewood.” Ever looked up from touching the edge of one of the flowers, her expression totally melting into a content, understanding smile. “Happy.” And she said it like she got it. “Yeah. It’s so cliché,” She said, letting her shirt drop back down, “I mean what are the odds of this happening, send a stranger a letter, stranger gets inspired to risk life threatening surgery, overcomes paralysis, hunts down the woman who wrote him the letters, falls for her, begins to live happily ever after?”
Ever hummed helping her to tie up bundles of herbs from the nursery to hang from the drying racks. The workroom had turned out perfectly. Greenhouse meets Practical Magic solarium. It was a large octagonal building, with massive skylights that could be shaded to block the light, or opened to vent the steam and smoke from her formulating process. Long tables with every tool she needed, a stainless steel countertop, a dishwasher to sterilize her tools, gorgeous antique shelves and armoires to hold all her herbs and bits of wax, spaced to sit in between the big floor to ceiling windows that let her look out on the nursery around her. Or would let patrons stop and watch her making candles. She loved it. Ever hadn’t asked her what she’d want or need, it was like she’d pulled it straight from her thoughts. “It is abnormal, but so was me actually falling in love with Roar. Or him being a great father. He’s a pussy magnet, and a partier. He’s still fairly wild and crazy, but it worked out. So tell me about Raid’s owl, why’d it hit you so hard?”
She told Ever about how he’d saved the seals off her
letters and boxes to him, how he’d memorized each one and the corresponding letter it came from. And when she showed Ever the surprise she’d made for him, her eyes welled up and she clicked her tongue in annoyance to play it down. “Now I’m pissed that Raid is more awesome than my husband.”
“The fuck he is!” They both jumped at Roar’s boom coming through an open window, she nearly dropped Raid’s present in an effort to hide it, just in case he was with his brother, but a quick peek revealed that the ungodly hot man was accompanied only by his son, whom he had strapped to his muscle packed chest with a black carrier. Like he’d spontaneously grown a clone from his chest. Lyon was kicking his little legs eagerly, his curly blonde hair recently cut in a cute little baby Mohawk. “Uh, did you get a brand with my name on it, plastered across your chest for all to see?” Ever drawled, throwing a hunk of dirt at his head, which he dodged with ease while using his big hands to shield the baby. “Watch it! You’ll hit the kid and get him all dirty.”