She loved her tattoo shop. The space was warm yet edgy with dark hardwood floors, maroon-painted walls, and sketched, painted, and sprayed flash art covering the walls that she and her fellow artists had done over the last few years since opening. There was plenty of light coming from the large storefront window, on which she had painstakingly painted the name of the shop on her own. Ink Haven had truly become her second home and, yes, her haven.
She loved her shop. But she had never loved her shop more than at that very moment with Alexis Mirskii and Colton Evans standing there, grinning at her while simultaneously taking the place in. She’d obviously noted how attractive they were the other night, but the emotional upheaval of the evening had prevented her from examining just how flippin’ steaming hot they were.
Colton was a gilded angel with that near-white hair and eyes that had their own gravitational pull. He looked thick with his muscles protruding from the long-sleeved Henley he wore over jeans and work boots. Alexis was his opposite. Dark, with that Romanian coloring she was sure was natural and not just tanned. His eyes were almost black as pitch and the leather jacket over a T-shirt with the name of his diner made her stomach rumble at the reminder of how amazing his food was. They were too perfect. She wondered if they would let her sketch them and hang the paintings on the shop wall to attract a larger female client base.
“Oh, love, now I know what’s gotten you twisted into a barbed mess,” Liam whispered into her ear as Alexis and Colton walked toward her.
“Hey, guys. This is a surprise.” She told Liam she would call him once the sketch of his tat was done and pushed him toward the door. He gave a nod to Alexis and Colton and once behind them, framed his mouth with his fore and middle fingers and wiggled his tongue between them in an obscene gesture. She forced herself to not flip him off.
“Pleasant surprise, I hope.” Alexis smiled, leaning on one of the workbenches.
“Well that depends,” she said, crossing her arms and enjoying the very male attention she was receiving at that moment. If she flicked her eyes back to Colton, she was sure she’d see his eyes roaming over her frame, clad in red Converse, tight skinny jeans, and black T-shirt. Some would say she was too curvy to wear skinny jeans, but she didn’t give a shit. She loved her curves. She wore them like a battle scar, which they almost were. And at that moment, she knew there were two others who liked her curves just as much as she did. She could feel their stares on her body like the heat of a furnace, but God, did the attention feel good.
“On what?” Colton asked with a flirtatious smirk.
“On whether or not Alexis comes bearing food, because I am starving.” To prove her point her stomach growled a loud and embarrassing complaint.
“I’m amazed you’re hungry at all, with all the food you scarfed down your throat when you were at my diner.”
“That was last week!”
“Yeah, I thought you were prepping for hibernation or something.” He leaned over and playfully poked her in the stomach. She wanted to blush and giggle like the Pillsbury Doughboy. She was acting like a tool.
Instead she mock punched him in the arm, embracing the friendly banter. He rubbed his arm with a pout on his face.
“I think a mosquito just bit me,” Alexis said. She gaped in outrage and leaped to sock him a good one. She didn’t get very far as Colton intercepted and proceeded to swing her over his shoulder without breaking a sweat.
“Hey, kids. No fighting.”
“She started it.” Alexis pointed, sticking his tongue out at her with a wink that made her insides melt. Oh, the things she wanted that tongue to do to her.
“Put me down, Colton.” She slapped his back, spitting and puffing as her hair got in her mouth. “This is highly inappropriate. In case you forgot, I hardly know you.”
He squeezed her waist and set her down, keeping his large hands on her hips for stability. “Which is why we’re here. We did not bring food, but we’ve been talking and would like to hang out together somewhere. All three of us.” Alexis came forward and brushed some of her hair out of her face. Bleu was overwhelmed by the closeness of the two compellingly masculine beauties. She had the absurd need to nuzzle into Alexis’s hand and place her own over Colton’s, resting on her waist. She had never been this easy with simple touch before, but with them it all just seemed so natural.
“You guys have kept in touch since last week?” A weird pang of jealousy pulsed in the back of her throat. The thought of them getting to know each other without her made her sad. She didn’t mind that they spent time together, the image of the two guys just standing next to each other was enough to fuel her masturbation fantasies for a year, but she would have liked an invite.
“No, we bumped into each other this morning.”
“Again?” she asked, looking to Colton and his uncanny ability to collide with people.
“Not literally this time.”
“Where?”
Colton tilted his head, reaching out to push some more flyaway hairs out of her eyes. “The twenty-four-hour market.”
“So come on, let’s go get some food.” Alexis tugged her toward the door, his fingers twining with hers. His hands were so large. Her heart started to pound.
She pulled away from them and walked back toward her work desk. “I don’t know. You guys don’t think this is kind of weird?”
“What?” asked Colton.
“The three of us hanging out? After everything?”
“Bleu, I told you. I don’t blame either you or Alexis for anything that happened with my dad. Shit happens, life happens. Hopefully, one day he’ll be able to see that, too.”
“Will you be our fwiend, Bweu?” Alexis said in a baby voice, pushing his delectable lips out into a pout and making her laugh.
How could she say no to that face? “Yes. So stop begging and just feed me.” This time she didn’t pull away when they dragged her toward the door.
Chapter 5
Four Weeks Later
Colton sat at his work desk, thinking of some solution to deal with the lack of light in the particular space his company was designing when his cell phone chirped an incoming call. He grinned, seeing it was Alexis. Over the past weeks, he had hung out with both Alexis and Bleu numerous times. They were growing so close, so quickly, and he looked forward to hearing both their voices every day.
“Hey, man.” Colton picked up.
“Bleu wants me to cook for us tonight.” Alexis’s deep voice intoned over the speaker, giving Colton shivers. He barely knew the man and his skin tightened in arousal at even the smallest thought of Alexis’s lean body. Straight. The man is straight.
“Fuck. Again? Not that I’m complaining but I kind of wanted to go out tonight. Have a sit-down dinner, maybe watch the game. What do you think?”
“I think we should stay in and make Alex cook for us.” Bleu’s voice chirped in rather indignantly. “You can watch the game at his place.”
He laughed, chiding himself at thinking she wouldn’t be on the line with Alexis. “Why is that?”
“Mmm. Because his food is oh so yummy.”
“Smurfette,” Colton chided, using his and Alexis’s favorite nickname for her. “Alexis cooks for a living, every day. All day. Don’t you think he deserves a break?” He rolled his pencil from side to side on the desk, thinking of the last time Alexis invited them over for dinner and how hard he’d been just watching the man in his own home. “I think you want him to cook just to watch his tight ass in that apron.”
She burst out laughing. Colton grinned at the embarrassed and strained quality to her voice. “No. No. That is so not it.” Alexis snorted on his end.
“Please, you love my ass.” Alexis preened.
“Are we really having this conversation?”
“You started it, Colt. And you love my ass, too.”
Oh if only Alexis knew how true those words were. “Hey. I’m man enough to admit that, yes, I love your ass.”
“See, Smurfette?” Ale
xis asked, oblivious to Colton’s inner turmoil. “The sooner you admit it, the sooner we can figure out what we’re doing for dinner.”
“Stop calling me that, Boris—”
“I may be Russian but I was born in America!”
“—and yes I love your ass, satisfied?”
“Yes.” There were a few seconds of silence when Alexis commented in a voice that wasn’t so much mocking as it was grudgingly honest. “You both have nice asses, too.”
“I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation.” And Colton couldn’t believe how hard his dick had become at the thought that Alexis might like his ass, even if it was just a joke. “Bleu, I’ll be at your place in an hour to pick you up. You still at the diner, Alex?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I will duct tape Bleu to the car so she can’t hop out when I come to pick you up in an hour and ten minutes. Sound good?” Colton got up from his desk and grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket from the entranceway where he’d dropped them.
“Huh,” said Alexis. “Bleu all tied up? I think I like it.”
“You are so paying for dinner tonight, asshole,” Bleu grumbled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to walk in front of you so you can look at my tight ass.”
A loud bang then silence. “I think she hung up.” Colton chuckled.
“Do you think she heard what I said?”
“I think you like her looking at your ass.”
“I look at her ass, she looks at mine. It’s a symbiotic friendship.”
“My ass feels left out.”
“It shouldn’t,” Alexis said quietly. He quickly added before hanging up, “Uh—see you in a bit.”
Colton laughed before shaking his head and making his way to the car to see his fine-assed new friends.
* * * *
Two Weeks Later
“This is crazy,” Bleu said, shaking her head and taking a big bite out of the pumpkin scone Alexis had whipped up for her and Colt that morning, knowing they would be coming over in the evening after work. Alex took pleasure in her hum of appreciation as she enjoyed the soft pastry. He’d never baked a pumpkin scone before, but had enjoyed adding the hints of cinnamon, allspice and clove into the batter. The scents made his home smell like Thanksgiving. Delicious.
“What’s crazy?” Colt asked, spreading some clotted cream over his raspberry scone. “How good this scone is? Because, oh man, this scone is so good. And what the hell is this stuff I’m putting on it? It’s like butter but better. Who knew there was something out there better than butter?” He took another large bite, shutting his eyes in a scone-induced orgasm.
Bleu grinned at Alex over the marble kitchen island, sharing in their delight over Colt’s discovery of clotted cream. He rolled his eyes at her in joint amusement, biting into his own plain scone and turning the volume up on the TV in his kitchen. From the instant she and Colt had entered his house, carelessly chucking their shoes and coats in the hallway, they’d dashed toward the waiting treats and turned the weather channel on, watching as the weather mass Sandy was dubbed a category one hurricane.
It was all anyone at the diner had been talking about for the past couple of days. Going on and on about the end of the world and how this super storm would wipe out the east coast. Alex wasn’t worried, they were all freaking out over nothing most likely.
“That is clotted cream,” Bleu said to Colt, “and no we are not talking about your earth-shattering scone. Look at this storm!” She gestured with her scone to the TV, an exaggerated look of panic on her face. “We’re gonna be wiped out.”
“Calm down, Smurfette, we’ll be fine,” Alex said, spreading some strawberry jam over his scone in addition to the cream, making the doughy confection undeniably delicious. Even a category one hurricane couldn’t take away how good this scone was. Damn, he was a fine cook.
“You look far too pleased with yourself than a person should. I can feel your ego expanding as you chew,” she said with a full mouth, crumbs spraying across his pristine kitchen island.
“Nice.” Colt chuckled, lifting a paper napkin to Bleu’s face and wiping her chin free of crumbs. Their eyes met and Alex held his breath as he watched Colt’s hand slow, lingering on her bottom lip far longer than what propriety would normally call for, even with how comfortable they had become around each other. Colton licked his lips and Alex could see him start to lean his body closer, focusing on her lips.
A loud clap of lightning sounded from the TV and the three friends jumped. Bleu cleared her throat with a blush staining her cheeks. Colt was all of a sudden very interested in his scone once more. Alex sighed, knowing this moment would probably feature in the dreams he’d begun to have at night starring certain new friends of his. The sexual attraction was starting to become distracting, and clearly he wasn’t the only one feeling it.
“I don’t think this one will be any different than Hurricane Irene,” Alex said, providing a way out of the awkwardness that had sprung from their more-than-obvious sexual tension. “They shut down parts of the city and nothing happened. We’ll be fine,” he said to Bleu again, trying to reassure her.
“I don’t know…those storm cells look mighty angry,” she said, relaxing back into their normal flow of conversation. “It’s not like New York would declare a state of emergency over nothing.” Bleu sighed, her lips turned down in a rare frown, worry making her shoulder hunch as she stared at the TV.
“Listen,” Alex said, pulling her attention back to him. “Tomorrow, we’ll all go out and get some supplies, stock up on water and such. Then I will cook you guys the biggest, baddest oh-shit-a-hurricane-is-coming lunch you have ever had. Deal?”
Bleu rested her head on her hand, tilting it to the side like an adorable puppy. “Deal.” She was smiling at him once more.
“Bleu.”
She turned in the direction of Colt’s voice, squeaking when he shoved a piece of clotted-cream-slathered raspberry scone into her mouth. “Stop worrying. We got you.”
Colt winked conspiratorially at Alex before turning back to the TV. Alex smiled, leaning forward to brush another crumb off Bleu’s cheek with his thumb and sitting back before he became trapped in the spiral she and Colt had experienced the moment before.
“Seriously, Smurfette,” Alex said, trying to keep from laughing at how her face looked like a chipmunk as she tried to chew all that food. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
* * * *
One Week Later
“How’s the shop holding up?” Colton asked Bleu as she dug into her well-deserved chicken noodle soup. Hurricane Sandy had hit New York three days before and communities across the island had been displaced. She and Colton had spent the day volunteering near the beach communities, cleaning out flooded basements and removing soaked insulation. Most of the island was without power, but for some unexplained miracle, Annabelle’s Diner’s power hadn’t shut off and had suffered zero damage from the storm. Alexis had the diner open, going full blast and giving discounted meals to victims of the storm and those volunteering in the neighboring areas most affected. Unfortunately, Bleu’s shop hadn’t held up as well.
“The windows are gone,” she said, pulling out her phone and showing Colton the pictures of the damage. Her beautifully painted windows were smashed to pieces and the space was currently filled with boards. Luckily the gate had held up against the wind and she hadn’t had anything stolen by the looters she’d heard were roaming the neighborhood.
“Shit,” Colt whispered, swiping through the pictures of the damage. “Bleu, I’m sorry…”
“Yeah, it sucks. I’m gonna go over tonight and do a little ‘Fuck you, Sandy’ graffiti on the boards. It will give the staff a little pick-me-up when they see it,” she said quietly, still feeling remnants of the shock she’d experienced after first seeing the shop. “A lot of the flash and personal art on the walls was messed up and waterlogged. Nothing costly…but you can’t put a price on that stuff, ya know?” She pu
t her spoon down, her appetite waning as she thought of the cost for new windows, and all the personal art from her shop walls, gone in an instant.
She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop the press of tears at the back of her eyes. She pinched her mouth shut and squeezed her eyes together, covering her face with her hands, elbows resting on the table, as she tried with all her might to keep the depression from setting in. She was much better off than the people she’d been helping. It was only a business. She still had her home and none of her friends had been injured by the storm. No matter how fortunate she told herself she was, no matter how many times she repeated the mantra in her head, that bitter pressure in her chest just wouldn’t go away.
An arm wrapped around her shoulders and tugged her into a firm, warm chest. Bleu shamelessly took the comfort offered and clutched his shirt as she buried her face in his neck. She scented spices and fries, savory meats. Alexis.
“Hey,” he said, stroking her hair and dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head. “What’s this about?”
Sobs frozen in her throat, she shook her head, unable to answer.
“Here,” Colton said, and Alex’s arm shifted to reach something. She heard the digital clicks of her iPhone and realized he must be looking at the pictures of the damage.
Alex cursed to himself, seeing the broken shards of glass littering the ground around the storefront. She’d cleaned it all up the day before but the images were stuck in her mind. She didn’t need the pictures to be reminded how everything she’d worked for had been damaged. With that last thought, her shoulders began to shake and she couldn’t help the small cry escaping her lips. She gripped Alex harder and buried her face, embarrassed by this show of weakness. She’d seen many like it as she surveyed the damaged neighborhoods, but she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t give in to the need to despair. Being with Colton and Alexis let her guards down. She relaxed with them. A little too much apparently.
A Different Kind of Perfect (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6