Bad Intentions (Bad Love)

by Charleigh Rose

Her attempt at diverting the conversation is pitiful, but I let it go. For now. We set the shop up together, and I’m impressed when Logan takes it upon herself to look at the schedule, taking note of who has clients first, and sets up our stations accordingly. With two people opening, it goes by a lot quicker, so I find myself with a few minutes to spare.

  I’m hunched over the front desk, making a quick revision to a sketch for a client that’s set to arrive in an hour or so. My neck is killing me still and I stretch it side to side, rolling my shoulders. I lean back over my sketch, and then I feel two soft hands on my shoulders. I freeze, not expecting the touch. I’ve never been a particularly affectionate person. I chalk it up to being starved of it growing up. Hugging, touching, hand-holding, snuggling…it’s all foreign to me, and I go out of my way to avoid unnecessary physical contact.

  Logan either doesn’t notice my discomfort or doesn’t care, because she keeps kneading, and eventually, I relax into her touch. She presses her thumbs together, sliding upward toward the base of my skull. I groan at the feeling, my dick pressing against the fabric of my jeans. I drop my head down, letting Logan continue her magic on me. She moves back down to my shoulders, and I feel the tension slowly seeping out of me at her touch.

  “Feel better?” she asks. She shifts closer, and I feel her tits on my back as her hair falls forward, brushing the side of my face. She smells like cherry Chapstick and vanilla.

  “So fucking good,” I mumble. Before I can think better of it, my hand reaches behind me, gripping the back of her thigh. She goes still, her hands pausing on my shoulders, and I let my hand fall. It wasn’t even a conscious decision to touch her, but now I’ve made it weird.

  The door chimes, and we both snap into motion, putting some distance between us. Adrian walks in, looking between us with raised brows, but says nothing about our not-so-subtle behavior.

  “New employee?” he asks.

  “What, stalking me at home wasn’t enough, you had to do it here, too?”

  “I got bored. You didn’t come home last night.”

  “Maybe I didn’t come home because I needed some fucking space.”

  Logan laughs, bringing both of our attention to her.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. You two just sound like an old married couple.”

  “He’s not my type,” Adrian says, completely unfazed by her comment. “You, on the other hand…”

  “No harassing the employees,” I cut in.

  “Right. I’ll leave that to the boss,” Adrian says with a smirk. Logan doesn’t seem to be offended by his insinuation. “I just came by to let you know I’m going back to Cactus Heights tonight. Don’t look so sad,” he says at my relieved expression. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Can’t wait,” I say in a flat voice, unenthused. “Get a hotel next time.”

  “Why, you don’t want to cuddle again?” he asks, his face turning down into a fake pout. “I bet your girl will keep this Arizona boy warm at night.”

  “Only if you put out.” Logan grins, playing along, ignoring the fact that he referred to her as my girl.

  Adrian’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back and howls with laughter. Loudly. “Oh, shit,” he says between laughter. “I think I just found my soulmate.”

  “Don’t encourage him.”

  Once Adrian leaves, we’re alone again, but the moment is gone. Cordell and Matty show up shortly after, and soon the shop is busy as fuck. I hear Logan’s phone ring a couple of times, only to see her reject the call both times with a distressed expression on her face. I assume she silences her phone, because I don’t hear it ring again. I tell myself to mind my own business. She’s not my girl—not my responsibility. This girl is obviously complicated. The last thing I need is to involve myself in someone else’s mess. Dealing with my own shit is a full-time job.

  I spend the whole morning on mindless tattoos—butterflies, hearts, matching BFF tattoos, and bullshit like that. One guy came in and got his daughter’s name. I don’t have anything against those kinds of tattoos, but they don’t exactly get my creative juices flowing. My neck is still fucked, made worse by hunching over clients all day, so it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have anything too detailed on the schedule. Logan does her job well, making sure everyone is taken care of and everything stays clean. I try to ignore the way her ass looks in her tight jeans and the way everyone’s eyes seem to follow her every move.

  Around lunchtime, Sutton walks through the door toting a plastic bag of something that smells amazing.

  “Hungry?” she asks Logan, holding up the bag.

  “Starved.”

  “I’m stealing the new girl back,” Sutton informs me. Logan looks over at me in question.

  “Take your break.”

  “Does anyone need anything?” Everyone declines, and then they head toward the back.

  “Maybe you do know what you’re doing,” Cord says, twisting back and forth on his stool. “I like having her around.”

  “Told you.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her, though.”

  Yeah, yeah. It also doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.

  “Find something to do.”

  The rest of the day is more of the same. The evening gets even busier, and by the time I have a chance to come up for air, Lo’s already gone home for the day. After lunch, she mentioned that she had to work a full day next door tomorrow, so she won’t be coming in. I tell myself the disappointment that I feel has everything to do with the fact that she’s a big help around here, and nothing to do with how I like seeing her here, in my shop, my space, hanging around my friends. Because that would be bad.

  Three days passed without seeing Lo, unless you count seeing her go in and out of Blackbear. The third day was Monday, the only day we’re closed, so I didn’t see her yesterday, either. The guys at the shop have been pouting about her not being here, and I’m not convinced that it’s only because she makes things easier. Lo has an addictive personality. With her big smile and sarcastic sense of humor, everyone gravitates toward her.

  I’ve been distracted and moodier than usual. This time of year always gets to me, but this thing with Lo is fucking with my head. I vacillate between fantasizing about fucking her on every surface of my shop and worrying about her. Then, I get pissed at myself for worrying, and in turn, pissed at her for making me worry. Like I said, it’s fucking me up.

  I was up all night sketching, trying to relax enough to fall asleep to no avail. Eventually, I said fuck it and decided to come in early, once again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Lo this morning as she arrived for her shift next door. Her hair was up high in that messy ponytail, and she was sporting those tight, black leggings that I love so much, a thin flannel over her work shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. Doesn’t this chick own a jacket? It’s like forty degrees, and only getting colder.

  By the time her shift is over next door, it’s almost four o’clock. She must’ve ditched her work shirt, because now her flannel is buttoned up, showing off milky-white tits. Matty gets to her first, greeting her with a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She squeals and smacks his shoulders to set her down.

  “Miss me?” she teases.

  “No one makes coffee like you do.”

  “You guys have a Keurig.”

  “Still. It tastes different when you bring it to me.”

  Jesus Christ. I can’t contain my eye roll at his obvious flirting. Lo shakes her head at his antics before making her way over to my station. The girl in my chair is getting a script tattoo under her breasts, and I swear I see Lo’s eyes flash with…something. She schools her expression before I can decipher it.

  “Hey.” She smiles, her eyes everywhere except my client, whose tits are completely out with nothing but tape in the shape of Xs over her nipples. “Need anything?”

  You. Naked in the drawing room. On my desk.

  “I’m good. I’m almost done here.”

 
Lo nods. “What about you? Water?” she reluctantly asks the girl under my needle. I forget what she said her name was. Ashley? Allison? She’s a cute girl, but she doesn’t shut up.

  “I’ll take a shot.” She laughs, looking uncomfortable. Lo gives her a smile that to some might look polite, but I see the annoyance lurking behind it. I chuckle, turning my attention back to the tattoo. My client rambles on, and I nod and mhm at all the appropriate times, not really hearing anything she’s saying.

  As my client is leaving, the door opens, and I look up to see Lo’s little brother. He pops the tail of his skateboard up with his foot and tucks it under his arm as he breaks his neck to check out the girl’s ass as she walks out.

  “Hang on,” Lo says, holding a finger up, then runs toward back of the shop.

  “Hey, man,” I greet him. He looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion before placing me.

  “Oh shit, you look different without all the…” He trails off, gesturing to his face. Right. It was Halloween when we met.

  When Lo comes back, she’s dangling a set of keys in her hand. “Did you go to detention?” she asks, snatching the keys out of his reach when he goes for them.

  “Yes,” he says with an eye roll. He reaches for the keys once more, only for her to pull back again.

  “Pick me up at eleven. You go buy your equipment, then go straight home until I call.”

  “This is stupid. I should’ve just taken the suspension. Do you even know how much this shit costs?”

  Lo looks at me from the corner of her eye, and I busy myself with disassembling and sanitizing my machine, pretending not to eavesdrop.

  “It’s fine,” she says, her voice barely loud enough to make out over the music coming from the speakers. “This is a good opportunity. Just get your mouth guard, shoes, and singlet now. We’ll worry about the fees and all the other shit later.” She reaches into her bra and pulls out a wad of cash before tucking it into his palm. “Here’s some extra from my shift today.”

  Her brother shakes his head, his hand still outstretched as if he doesn’t want to take the money, but Lo lifts an eyebrow, and reluctantly he shoves it down into his jeans pocket. I’ve been in foster care and too many foster families to count, and I’ve never once seen a brother and sister this dynamic. Lo mothers him, which isn’t unheard of for the oldest sibling, but he seems to listen to her as if she’s in charge. There’s a closeness between them that sends a little jolt of jealousy through me. Not jealous of him—I’m not that crazy—but jealous of their relationship. Asher is my brother, but he’s not my blood, and he has his own life now.

  There was a time when I thought I might have that with one of my foster families, but of course, I managed to fuck that up like everything else. And no one in this town has looked at me the same since. River’s Edge is split into three types of people for me: the people who blame me for what happened, the people who don’t, and the people who don’t know anything about it. For the record, I fall into the first group.

  “Straight home,” she reiterates. He nods, and this time she gives him the keys when he reaches for them. He pulls her in for a hug, her head not even coming up to his chin. He leaves, and Lo heads toward my station to wipe down my chair.

  “I can do it,” I tell her. “My client canceled, remember?” She’s the one who informed me of the cancellation.

  “It’s okay. I got it.”

  “You good?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask. She pauses mid-bend as she reaches for the wadded-up paper towels full of ink and the rinse cup, her big hazel eyes locking onto mine. I can see a hint of her black bra peeking from underneath her shirt from this angle, and memories of her perfect fucking tits as she arches into my touch pop into my mind, unbidden.

  “Yeah,” she says, her voice too chipper for me to believe her. I can’t figure it out, but she seems off.

  “Have you eaten? I think I’m going to order from next door.” I’m starving, and after overhearing Lo’s conversation with her brother, I wonder if money’s so much a problem that she’s not eating enough. She’s petite, her waist tiny, but that ass tells me she’s getting enough to eat.

  “I didn’t get a chance to eat earlier,” she admits. “Blackbear got busy.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m not picky.” She shrugs.

  “I’ll take a burger!” Matty shouts from his station on the other side of the room.

  “And some wings,” Cordell chimes in.

  “Anything else?” I say sarcastically, earning another smile from Lo. This time it’s genuine.

  Jake drops off the food thirty minutes later, and I motion for Lo to follow me.

  “What if someone comes in?” she asks, hooking a thumb toward the door.

  “They’ll get it,” I assure her. I lead her to the bigger waiting area. It’s completely empty of clients. I walk over to the table and drop the food down, motioning for her to take a seat on the bench seat. I grab two beers and a water bottle. Gotta have options. When I turn back for the table, Lo is sitting there, chin propped on her fist, full lips in a pout, staring at the table.

  Don’t ask her if she’s okay. Don’t ask her if she’s okay.

  “You okay?” Smooth. She doesn’t answer, or even seem to hear me. “Lo.” Still nothing. “Logan,” I say, louder this time, and her head snaps up. “What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’, because I can tell something is bothering you. Unless you suddenly fell in love with pizza and that’s a wistful look on your face and not a troubled one.”

  She gives a sad smile and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

  “About…?” I hedge. “Is that guy still bothering you?”

  “No, I mean, yes, he’s still calling, but it’s not about him.” I knew he was, whoever he is, but her confirmation has my hands tightening into fists. I don’t have a good feeling about that guy. “I’ve just got a lot on my plate. I’m worried about Jess, worried about him finishing school, worried that I’m fucking this whole thing up, worried about where we’re going to live—”

  “No luck on that?” I interrupt. This sad, maybe slightly vulnerable side of her is a stark contrast to the bold, confident one that I’m used to seeing.

  “I’ve looked online, but there’s nothing to rent. I found one place, but I haven’t heard back.”

  She’s right. In order to find a place to rent in this town, you pretty much have to know someone. Rentals are few and far between, and they go fast.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I hate when people ask if they can ask a question, but this one has the potential to piss her off, so I tread carefully. She nods in acquiesce. “Where is your mom?” These aren’t things a twenty-one-year-old girl should be worrying about. I get that Henry hasn’t been in their lives, but that doesn’t explain who’s been taking care of them all these years.

  “At this very moment? Jail. Drugs,” she tacks on as she reaches into the bag, pulling out a fry. No sadness or shame in this statement. Just cold facts.

  “Fuck.”

  “It’s better this way,” she says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “She was more of a pain in my ass when she wasn’t locked up.”

  “Where’s Henry going?” I grab a burger out of one of the bags and hand it to her.

  “I assume he’ll just stay in the room at the auto shop. The plan was always to get our own place anyway. It just happened a little sooner than we expected.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say before clearing my throat awkwardly. I don’t know how to do this shit. I don’t know how to be a friend. When I took Asher in, it was easy because neither of us was big on talking. He needed a job and a place to sleep, and I gave it to him. He also doesn’t get my dick hard, so there’s that. With Lo, I have this innate need to make sure she’s okay, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.

  “We’ll figure it out. We always do. You’ve helped enough. You know, with the job and all.”
<
br />   After that, there are no words. We dig in, eating in silence. Lo moans when she takes a bite, and the sound goes straight to my cock. Her phone buzzes on the table in between us, and my guard goes up instantly, but I relax when I realize she’s talking to her brother.

  “Of course, it did,” she says, giving a humorless laugh, dragging a hand through her messy brown hair. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it’s clearly not good news. “Okay. No, don’t worry about me. Did you manage to get what you needed?” A pause. “Good. Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “What was that about?”

  “The Toyota died. Henry’s picking Jesse up and seeing what’s wrong. Take me home?” she asks, batting those pretty doe eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

  Like I’d say no to her.

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind waiting around until I close.”

  “Nope. I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”

  Once we’re finished with our food, we get back to work. Lo calls the next day’s clients to confirm their appointments while I set up for my next session. Tuesdays are generally slow, so Cordell and Matty end up taking off around ten, leaving Lo and me alone. She sways her hips, singing along to “Wrong Way” by Sublime as she cleans the windows, and I excuse myself to the drawing room before I do something stupid. Like bend her over the front desk.

  I’ve never been drawn to someone like this. Maybe it’s because I’m denying myself the chance to fuck her that I want her so bad. Maybe we just need to give in, just once, to get it out of our system. Because I know she feels it, too. I see it in the way she looks at me, the way she presses her thighs together when we stand a little too close, the way she licks her lips. I’m hyperaware of her presence, and the only thing worse than not seeing her for three days is having her here to torture me. Either way, I can’t escape her.

  I hear a quiet knock on the door before Lo peeks her head through. “I think I’ve officially run out of things to do.”

  I slide my phone out of my hoodie pocket and check the time. Eleven eleven p.m. “You can turn off the sign and flip the lock.” Since we don’t have any clients and it’s too late to take a walk-in, there’s no point. If it was the weekend, that would be a different story. Lo bites her lip and nods, like a locked door somehow makes us more alone than we are now.