Love At First Ink: A Woodbine Valley Romance (Tate Family Book 1)

by Bridgid Gallagher

  Because on top of every last annoying part of him, the man was a sight to behold.

  Justin had stripped down to skin, leaving his work pants hanging low on his hips. Shovel in hand, Justin’s muscled back gleamed in the sunlight, shining with sweat and covered in tattoos. Even his ribs had muscles—something she hadn't known was possible. He didn't have the puffy gym-made muscles, either, but real muscles. Everything about his body looked strong like he was a proponent of good, clean living, fresh air, and exercise. Amen! As much as she was annoyed with him, she couldn't stop staring. It was like her eyeballs had Justin-specific magnets.

  She was torn between wanting to impale him on garden shears and wanting to jump him.

  Justin glanced up to tell Jo something and caught her staring. She looked away quickly. Over and over they'd played this game. Elle would ogle, Justin would catch her, and she'd pretend shoveling was the most interesting thing ever.

  Which led to more blisters and a crick her neck.

  This time, she couldn't bring herself to pick up her stupid shovel again. She thought about quitting—for the umpteenth time.

  Justin, shirtless and shining with sweat, sauntered over. He stopped next to her and put his hands on his hips. She still didn't look at him, but inhaled deeply.

  Since when was the smell of a sweaty male so freaking amazing?

  "Looks like we're almost done here," he said, interrupting her olfactory orgy. "You did good."

  She frowned. "Tell me that's not an actual compliment," she said. She wanted to call him some names. Special names that weren't made for good company. But she refrained.

  Mother would be proud.

  "Hey, look," Justin said. The tone of his voice made her turn. He sounded sorry. Almost. Not sorry enough, though. And again with the being shirtless thing, dammit.

  Justin took off his baseball hat and ran fingers through his hair. It was damp with sweat, and the motion made it spike in different directions.

  She tried to keep her eyes on his, but her gaze strayed down to his chest, and the lines along his hips running down to his—

  She snapped her head up.

  What was wrong with her? She had a boyfriend as of yesterday. Talk about quick on the rebound.

  "Let's take a break," Justin said.

  She swiped at her forehead again.

  Ladies don't sweat. They glisten, her mother would say. But Elle was sweating. Dripping, really. No type of flattering word could hide this level of grossness. Elle was certain her mother wouldn't approve of her current state. Nor the man—the very, very sweaty man—who was keeping her company.

  How long have I been staring at his chest?

  She dragged her eyes back to his.

  "A break?" she asked, sounding a bit strangled.

  Justin grinned. He tucked a thumb into the waistband of his jeans, pulling them lower and making Elle lose her train of thought.

  "Yeah. I thought I'd go swimming," he said. "Interested?"

  "I didn't bring a suit," she said.

  "I won't look."

  Trouble. Definitely trouble.

  She should say no. It was the safe choice. The proper choice. A good southern girl certainly wouldn't go swimming with a sweat-coated shirtless stranger. Then again, a good southern girl wouldn't have been caught dead digging ditches.

  The midday sun hit her head and heat rose from the ground in waves. Sweat ran down her back and into the waistband of her shorts. She imagined a swimming pool, pristine blue and icy cold.

  She could buy a bathing suit, couldn’t she? Surely they would pass a shop. Besides, on a hot summer day, the pool would be crowded, so it wouldn’t be like she was going on an intimate date with the man.

  In the end, the sweat dripping down her back made the decision for her.

  "All right," Elle said. "I'm in."

  Chapter 10

  Justin didn't want to like spending time with Elle. She'd looked ridiculous digging plant beds with Jo's crew. She was slow and had no idea what she was doing—at least, he assumed that was the case from the way she had to ask for detailed instructions on how to dig a hole.

  The rest of the crew were seasoned workers. It was a landscaping company run by Jo, one of Jess’ oldest friends, and Jo’s crew, a group of men who were tanned from working outside and wore sturdy, well-worn work clothes. They laughed and talked as they dug out the beds, lined them with thick plastic sheeting, then filled them with potting soil and compost. The crew knew what they were doing, but they had fun doing it. Still, they were rough. Their jokes fell close to distasteful and they gave Elle, in her pristine whites, a hard time.

  And somehow Elle managed to win them over.

  Minutes after making an ass of herself by asking how to use a shovel, she had the crew laughing about the cleanup job in the cottage bathroom.

  She hadn't given up, either. Not when she fell into one of the beds, not as the day grew hotter and muggier. Not when the mosquitoes came out in hoards. Even the crew begged for a break. It was too hot, too miserable to work. But Elle hadn't complained once. He caught her glaring at him, but each time she dropped her gaze and got back to work.

  Justin wasn't sure what he had expected. No, that wasn’t true. He had expected her to take one look at the dirt, stick up her cute little nose, and hightail it out of there.

  But she hadn’t.

  And he felt a twinge of guilt for making her work so hard. Her hands had to be torn up, and he knew from experience her muscles would be screaming the next day.

  He was even more surprised when she agreed to go swimming with him. It had been a whim, a last-minute thought. Now, he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking. Taking Elle swimming? She didn't have a bathing suit?

  He swore under his breath.

  The rest of the crew cleared out, heading to the house for lunch, or to their trucks to call home. He waved to Jo as he led Elle to his truck, ignoring her knowing look. Elle hopped in on the passenger side, not waiting for him to open the door.

  “Where is the pool?” she asked once he opened the driver side door.

  He slid in and slammed the door behind him. "You'll see," he said.

  She rolled down her window, then leaned back in her seat. Her ease set him back. This girl looked like she belonged in his old truck. Where was the princess?

  He couldn't help but notice that her once-white shoes were stained with grass, dirt, and muck from the bathroom cleanup. Not that he'd complain. His truck wasn't the kind that made him worry about a mess.

  He started up the engine and said, "Sorry about your shoes."

  Elle looked at her shoes as if she hadn't noticed. She shrugged. "It's no big deal. They're just shoes."

  Again. Not what he expected.

  The Elle he'd met on the plane was easy to mess with because she wasn't a temptation, not really. This girl, the one tapping her hands on her knees to the sound of a country song, she was dangerous.

  Justin drove, leaving Oak Bramble and heading onto the country highway. The spot he was thinking of wasn't far, but it would be easier to drive. They sped down the road with both windows wide open. The muggy air was pushed aside by crisp mountain breezes.

  After he'd been driving for a few minutes, Elle reached over to turn down the music. "So, did you grow up here?" she asked.

  He nodded. "Not far from here."

  "Have you lived here all your life?"

  "No."

  She looked at him. He watched the road.

  Finally, he said, "I went to school in California. Worked there for a bit. Moved back home a couple of years ago."

  Elle sat up, twisting in her seat to see him better. He glanced at her, then away. Her shorts were too damn short.

  "California? I guess that's why you look a little like a surfer."

  He grimaced.

  "You do! It's the hat. Or maybe the, um, tan."

  Justin tried not to smile. He thought she'd checked him out once or twice. Now he was certain.

  That was
different too. He was ready for her snooty looks. Not the steamy ones that made him think she wanted to run her hands over him. Nope. Hadn't seen those coming.

  "I surfed," he said. "Poorly."

  "I knew it!"

  Justin pulled off the highway and onto a dirt road. The smell of the forest filled the car, cooling his skin.

  "So why did you come back?"

  He clenched his jaw. There was the easy answer, or the hard one. He chose easy. "My mom was still here and my sister moved back. It seemed like a good time to come home."

  "Your sister—the short girl in overalls."

  "That's her. Amy."

  "She seemed ... nice."

  Justin laughed. "She is. Prickly on the outside, but nice once you get to know her."

  Elle nodded and looked out her window. He slowed his truck and pulled onto a small patch of dirt. When he stopped and turned off the engine, Elle looked around.

  "Care to tell me why we're stopped in the middle of the woods?"

  He gave her a look. "You worried about being alone with me?"

  "No,” she said. “But where’s the pool?”

  He cocked up one corner of his mouth into a grin. "Have I given you any reason not to trust me?"

  She thought for a moment. While she thought, she tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her ear. In that moment, she looked soft. Vulnerable. He imagined she was deciding whether or not to trust him.

  "You're right," she said. She opened her door and hopped out of the truck.

  Justin let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grabbed a water bottle and a bag, then slammed the truck door behind him.

  "Come on, Princess. It's not far. Unless you need me to carry your highness so your feet don't get muck on them. More muck, that is."

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  "I saw that."

  "I was hoping you would."

  He was grinning when he started down the trail.

  Elle stumbled after Justin down a small dirt path that ran through the trees. Her thoughts of a pristine swimming pool were fading quickly. Instead, she started to worry about poison ivy. And bears. Were there bears in North Carolina? Or—oh Jesus—what about wild boars? She'd read about those. She was sure of it.

  Although she'd visited the mountains as a kid, she hadn't had the type of childhood where one spent time camping and in nature. Tennis courts and swimming pools, yes. Trees and dirt, no.

  Justin moved down the trail like a creature of the forest, easy and surefooted, while she crashed after him. She was certain the bushes and branches were trying to poke her eyes out. Just as she swiped away the millionth branch that tried to make a kabob out of her eyeball, Justin stopped. She hadn't been watching and ran into his back. Every last sweaty inch of her on every last sweaty inch of him.

  She scrambled back with a mumbled, "Sorry."

  Then she saw it. She should have heard the water sooner, but she'd been preoccupied. Now the noise surrounded her. Gallons and gallons of water rushed over rock, crashing into a deep pool. The waterfall wasn't huge but large enough to create a curtain of rising mist that kissed her cheeks.

  “This is not what I thought you meant when you said we should go swimming,” she said. Then, "But it's beautiful.”

  "I've been swimming here since I was a kid," Justin said. She turned and caught the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It's a secret, so don't tell."

  She crossed a finger over her heart. "Wouldn't think of it."

  With one hand, he pulled his shirt over his head. Elle nearly died.

  Seriously. She'd seen him shirtless, but the effortless tug of fabric and then, wow. It was too much.

  She stepped back—because of the beautiful—and nearly stepped off the cliff.

  Elle scrambled away from the edge, which was a good twenty feet above the water.

  “You’re okay with this, right?” he asked. “Because you can just sit here if you’re not comfortable with it.”

  He gave her a look, equal parts challenging and playful.

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Sure. I’m fine with this,” She babbled, feeling anything but fine.

  What made me think this was a good idea?

  Because this is what she'd signed up for when she'd hopped into Justin's truck. Notably missing were a crowd of children, sunbathers—anyone who could stand between her and Justin's sexy self. But no. She'd opted to follow the shirtless wonder. Swimming with the sexy, sweaty, tattooed guy, who was looking at her like she'd lost her marbles.

  Surely the sun had messed with her brain.

  Or maybe he's just that good-looking, she thought, watching him.

  Justin shucked off his shoes and pants, leaving on a snug pair of briefs—sweet baby Jesus, there were more of those long, lean muscles. He tossed his hat and sunglasses aside, then ran for the water. The almost-naked running was her new favorite, she decided. All those muscles doing what God intended them to do. Amen, amen, amen.

  Elle caught her breath as he fell, landing with a big splash in the water below.

  Justin's head popped up, and he swung his wet hair out of his face.

  "You coming in or what?” he said. He was grinning, his teeth white against his skin.

  "I'm coming," she said. "But I'm not going to jump like that. You have a death wish."

  "Suit yourself."

  Elle grumbled under her breath. Then she remembered the whole getting undressed thing. Elle peeked inside the waistband of her shorts to double-check.

  Houston, we have a problem.

  There were women, she knew, who didn’t wear body shaping underwear unless under extreme duress. A formal event, perhaps. A wedding. The red carpet.

  Elle, who had been raised to fear underwear lines, dread a muffin top, and view stray bulges of skin as evil incarnate, wore the stretchy, body-compressing apparel on a day-to-day basis. She had curves that simply wouldn’t be contained by simple cotton or, heaven forbid, thongs, and needed the firm hand only industrial-strength shapewear could provide. She saved flimsy undergarments for moments when she knew they’d be seen. Otherwise, she wore what looked like a bum to bra line nude-colored nightmare.

  The scene of Elle in her body shaping best had inspired Isabelle to compare her to the serial killer who wore other people’s skin in a famous horror film.

  Suffice it to say, Elle might look smooth and bump-free with clothes over her shapewear, but the horror beneath was not her best look.

  But of course, Elle was wearing her shapewear today.

  Of course.

  In her defense, she hadn’t expected to show anyone her skivvies when she woke up that morning. Certainly not the day after she broke up with her boyfriend, and most definitely not after a hot, sweaty morning of shoveling.

  But there she was. Just a girl. Standing on a hot summer day in her shapewear, with a poor unsuspecting man watching her from below.

  A true lady wouldn’t subject anyone to the sight of her sweat-soaked shapewear. A true lady wouldn’t be sweating, either, but would opt to sit in the shade to prevent the poor man from seeing the unseeable.

  But Elle wasn’t feeling like a lady at that particular moment.

  Even at the edge of the trees in the shade, the heat of the day made her skin prickle and sweat. She was dirty, hot, and the water looked like a giant invitation.

  Really, did it matter what Justin thought?

  Perhaps exposing her secret would be the best way to ensure he stayed far, far away from her.

  Yes, Elle thought, making up her mind. No man could want a woman after seeing her like this.

  Justin whistled a happy tune in the water below as she started removing her clothes. Poor, unsuspecting thing.

  First, Elle toed off her shoes. Next, she focused on her blouse, undoing each button while facing away from the water. Was she making it take as long as possible? Maybe. Finally, with a fast swish and drop, she lost her shorts.

  The whistling stopped.

  Elle turned to the
water, nervously tugging at the stretchy fabric, which was silly. The stuff was glued to her body with sweat and tight as a steel trap.

  "You have got to be kidding me," Justin said.

  Elle glared at Justin while he tried, and failed, to stifle his laughter. He wasn’t horrified … he was laughing at her! She didn’t want to stand before him in her nude-colored glory for a second longer.

  There was not caring about impressing a man, and there was salvaging the last scraps of your pride. Determined to hide beneath the water, Elle stepped up to the edge of the riverbank. The small cliff rose above the pool and the water looked farther away than it had a moment before.

  "Is there another way down?" she asked.

  "Sure, yeah," Justin said, still trying not to laugh. "Just follow the bank."

  Elle eyed the sloped ground. The grass looked slippery, and the proximity to the edge made her nervous.

  Feeling like an idiot, she squatted down to a crawl, then turned.

  "What are you doing?" Justin asked. He sounded like he was forcing the words. He made a wheezing noise.

  Surely, she thought. Surely, the man is not still laughing at me. Because that would be beyond rude. It would be cruel.

  "I'm crawling down," she said, not daring to turn to look at him. “What does it look like?”

  “I don’t think you want to know what it looks like from here."

  Dammit.

  He was definitely still laughing.

  Yes, Elle thought, she was backing up like a dump truck. Yes, her ass was in the air. Yes, her shapewear was likely making the scene bizarre, to say the least.

  But could he at least be quiet about it?

  “I thought you were nearsighted,” she said, focusing on inching her way down the slope.

  “My vision isn’t that bad,” he said. Then snorted.

  It was the snort that did it.

  "You're not helping!" she yelled over her shoulder. But the movement was too much on the slippery slope.

  Elle lost her balance and tipped off the edge.

  “Arrrghuuuua!”

  There was a moment where she was in free fall. Then she hit the pool with a painful splash. When she came to the surface, Justin was so far gone, his laughter was silent. Tears streamed from the corner of his eyes.