“Go, woman,” Jasinda cut her off.
She threw her hand up then picked up her purse. “Fine, but you need to come to me if there is anything wrong. You understand? Eden…Eden’s my baby.”
Jasinda gave her a small smile then leaned into her to brush a kiss over her cheek. Becky did the same on Sierra’s other side, and Sierra relaxed.
“Go,” Becky ordered. “We’ll care for your baby. It’s what you hired us to do after all.”
With one last look at her happy customers and the store that was the result of her blood, sweat, and tears, she walked out into the sunlight and made her way across the street to Montgomery Ink. She didn’t stop for coffee at Hailey’s, as she was already running on enough nerves and any caffeine would make it worse.
Sierra took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. She wasn’t on her way to the guillotine or about to walk the plank with a smarmy pirate at her back. It was only a consultation with an artist. Nothing too drastic. She wouldn’t even have to take her clothes off.
Okay, so that sounded odd even to her, but she let it go. It had been six days since she last stepped into Montgomery Ink, and once again, she found herself on the precipice of something more—something that scared the crap out of her.
Since she last saw Austin and the others, Eden had opened to the public, running her ragged. The man with blue eyes and a beard she wanted to feel on the intimate silk of her thighs filled her mind more often than she wanted him to, but she did her best to push that aside. Eden needed her full attention, and any life-altering decisions—whether about men or tattoos—had to be put on hold so she could live her dream.
Eden had been up and running for two days—and would hopefully run for much, much longer—and Sierra had an appointment with an artist she hoped could help her deal with the part of herself she’d tried to hide for so long.
When Callie put her name in their electronic appointment book, Sierra hadn’t asked which artist she’d have. From what she’d heard about the shop, she trusted all those who worked there with her skin. Or at least she tried to. Hopefully, she would find out who her artist was today and she’d start the next step in her healing. Just the thought of showing them where she needed her ink made her shudder. She wasn’t quite ready for that, but she knew she would have to be soon.
She wasn’t a coward, but dear God, she wanted to be. Just once.
“Sierra! You made it.”
Callie’s welcoming voice soothed Sierra’s nerves immediately. The other woman had such a young, vivacious energy about her, though when Sierra looked closer, she could see a bit of an old soul in those bright eyes.
She’d learned the last time she was there that Callie was Austin’s apprentice, learning art and technique, and gaining experience from, as Callie put it, the best of the best. With the way Callie seemed to bounce from word to word, Sierra thought that Austin had the best of both worlds. He could stand in the back and act all broody and rude while Callie brought in all the clients. No, that wasn’t nice. She knew from her research that Austin was a very talented artist, sought after from all over the world if reviews could be trusted. His sister Maya was much of the same.
Sierra licked her lips nervously then gave in to Callie’s exuberant hug.
“Nice to see you, Callie,” she said, trying to keep it polite considering the war within her made her stomach want to heave.
“It’s good to see you too. Your artist is almost ready for a consult, so go ahead and take a seat on one of the comfy leather couches. Can I get you a coffee or water? Maybe a juice?”
Sierra tilted her head, amused. “I’m good, thanks. Are you the Montgomery Ink receptionist as well?”
Callie blushed, shaking her head. “We keep running out of those. We hire college kids mostly who need to pay for their tuition at UCD or the other Auraria campuses right off Spear Boulevard, but they get flaky over time between deadlines, parties, and the fact that the campus just built a freaking dorm right off the highway.” Callie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we’re between receptionists right now so I’m doing my best. Hopefully, Austin and Maya will hire someone soon so they don’t have to deal with the Mac of Doom.”
Sierra’s eyebrows rose. “Mac of Doom?”
Callie gestured toward the computer on the corner desk, leaning over to whisper. “Maya bought that because she wanted everything on the desk or whatever instead of a whole tower, and now no one knows how to use it. If you ask me, you should say goodbye soon because, between Sloane and Austin, there might be an ‘accident’.”
Sierra snorted then took a seat. “Poor guys.”
“Hey, poor me. I’m the one who has to fix whatever they mess up. Now if you’re sure you don’t need anything, I’m going to go work on a sketch for tomorrow’s client. Your artist will be by in a bit.”
It wasn’t lost on her that Callie still had not mentioned the artist’s name. Maybe it was an artist-temperament thing. Sierra’s gaze traveled over the large room where eight stations sat against walls filled with artwork—photos, paintings, sketches, and a few ceramics and metal sculptures. There were a couple of people Sierra didn’t immediately know, but she’d seen Sloane and Maya around enough to know them by their faces. Each of them was working intently on their client. Sloane had his head down over a middle-aged man’s thigh, working with a red color that mixed with his blood. The sight made Sierra a bit queasy, so she turned her attention to Maya. Austin’s sister flicked her tongue ring in and out of her mouth as she focused on the line work on her client’s foot.
Just the thought of someone digging a needle into her foot made Sierra wince. No thank you, not for her first tattoo. First? Was she planning on getting a second or third? Maybe she should just focus on getting through this first one without passing out or weeping uncontrollably.
“Callie?” she asked before the other woman headed off completely. “Who is my artist?”
“That would be me.”
Sierra’s heart sped up, and she clamped her thighs together at the deep rumble of Austin’s voice. Oh no. Austin couldn’t be her artist. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if this man had his hands on her. She didn’t him want to see exactly where she wanted her ink. That was too personal. Too personal for a man that invaded her space by just breathing. She also reminded herself she didn’t even like him. He was a rude, overbearing oaf. It didn’t matter that her body seemed to want him.
Her mind did not.
“Okay then, I’ll leave you both to it.” Callie ran away, and Sierra narrowed her eyes at the woman. Oh, Callie knew exactly what she was doing.
Great.
“I thought you told me to leave,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to whisper, but it was all she’d been able to force out.
Austin nodded, his eyes full of pain. Pain she hadn’t seen before in those deep blue eyes. She would have remembered.
“I apologize for the way I acted before. Shannon, the woman who was leaving as you came in, put my back up, and I acted harshly.”
Surprised he admitted to his rudeness, she could only forgive him. After all, she wanted—no, needed—to know what had put that broken look on his face. She wasn’t vain enough to think it was about her and his need to apologize. No, this was about something far deeper.
“I’m sorry for my words when I first walked in. I’ve heard great things about Montgomery Ink, and I want a tattoo, not to judge who gets one.” There. She’d said it.
Austin nodded but didn’t smile, didn’t do much of anything. “Come on to my station in the back, and we can talk about what you’d like.” Again, his voice was devoid of emotion. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something there, something that made her yearn to reach out to him and make it better.
She took a seat on the bench he offered her as he sat down on a stool, picking up a sketchpad and pencil. “Tell me what you’d like.”
Sierra searched his face, unable to focus on any type of design. “What’s wrong, Austin? What’s put such sad
ness in your eyes?”
She cursed herself for asking such a deeply personal question of a man she didn’t know, but there was something there, a connection she had no right feeling.
Austin blinked then swallowed hard. Her gaze traced the long line of his throat and his beard. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You just look so sad, and I wanted to know if there was anything I can do. Silly, right? I don’t even know you.”
Austin set down the sketchpad and pencil, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not in the right frame of mind to draw anyway. Or, rather, I’m in the perfect mindset if you think about it. I know you came here for a consult, and I’ll get to that. Soon. Okay.” He met her gaze, that agony a sharp slice across her heart. “My dad has cancer. He told us the day after you walked out of here, and I haven’t been able to deal with it. I don’t know if I can.”
Sierra sucked in a breath and gripped his hand, the shock of the connection surprising her, but she pushed past it, thoughts of Austin’s family in the forefront of her mind.
“I’m so sorry, Austin. Oh God, I had no idea it was something like that. I know my words are paltry, but I’ll be thinking of your father and the rest of you. I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Her eyes filled with tears for the man in front of her and the man who’d raised him, a man she’d never met but knew Austin cared for a great deal.
Austin cupped her cheek, an action that startled them both. “Thank you, Sierra.” He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat. “He’ll be okay. He has to be. And if I only focus on just him and what’s going on, I won’t be able to function, so let’s talk about your ink.”
Her cheek was still warm from his touch, and she wanted more. Wanted his hands on her, wanted his gaze on her as she undressed for him. She wanted to kneel at his feet as he brushed her hair back, letting her know everything was okay.
She pulled back at that thought. That wasn’t her anymore. Those thoughts weren’t hers. They couldn’t be. She’d grown from the woman she’d been with Jason, and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, be that woman with Austin. He was the one who would lay ink on her skin, not lay claim to it.
That was if she could find the courage to do so in the first place.
“Sierra? Your ink? Callie said something about flowers, but that means so many things. I need to know more.”
She sucked in a breath, her lower lip trembling. “I…I want daisies on my right side. I don’t know how many, or how large or even what color, but I need them to…cover up, or rather go around, something.”
Austin furrowed his brow. “I’m covering up other ink?”
She shook her head. “This is my first tattoo.”
Austin gripped her hand softly, his touch soothing, calming, an anchor. “What am I covering up, Sierra?” His voice had lowered, as if he was talking to a frightened lamb on the edge of a precipice.
Though that was an apt description at the moment, she didn’t want to be that person.
Not anymore.
“I have a couple scars.” Oh, what a lie, but she’d tell the whole of it soon. She’d need to. “I’m…I’m not ready to show them to you yet, so I know you can’t design anything.”
Austin squeezed her hand, and she cursed herself.
Jesus she was an idiot.
“I’m wasting your time today, Austin and I’m sorry for it. I thought I’d take it one step at a time, but that was stupid. You’d need to see my side so you can design.”
Austin nodded then pulled back. “If you’re not ready to show me, then we can take it one slow step at a time. I don’t mind, Sierra. I will say that doing a cover-up on scars isn’t possible, not in most cases. It’s an art form in itself that we don’t do too much of here unless we know the scars and can trust your ink won’t fuck up in the future because of them. The skin that’s scarred is too different and puckered usually, and the ink will end up spreading out over the scar, rather than being where we wanted it in the first place. However, we can do something around the scars.”
“I researched that. But your time is valuable.”
“So is your recovery and healing.”
Touched, she blinked up at him, licking her lips. “Then what can we do today?”
He grinned at her then, his eyes filling with a touch of laughter for the first time since she’d walked in. That alone made her feel as if coming in that day was worth it.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll trace your side so I can get an idea of the size of canvas we’ll be working with. Then I’ll work on a few daisy types and show you the next time you come in. Hopefully by then, I’ll be able to see exactly what you mean by scars, and then we can move on to the next step.”
Her hands shook, but she nodded, knowing in order to fully do what she wanted she’d need to show him. It was a no-brainer, but it still didn’t make it any easier.
“That sounds like a plan then.”
“I can tell you want ink, Sierra. If you didn’t, then we wouldn’t be sitting here. I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready. And when we do start actually tattooing, and even when you show me your scars, I’ll put up the curtain we have so it’s just you and me. No one else. What do you say?”
That idea appealed more to her than it should have, and she nodded readily.
“Okay then, stand up and lift your arm. Show me exactly how large you’re thinking and then I’ll trace you. Like I said, I won’t know exactly what I will be doing until I see everything. Even if this is just for show today, it’s still a step. You know?” He met her gaze. “That means I’ll have to put my hands on you. You okay with that?”
More than okay.
Instead of saying that, she nodded again and stood.
She turned so her side faced Austin and she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. As soon as he put his hands on her, she jumped.
“Steady, Legs, I’m not going to bite,” he teased. “Well, not unless you ask me to.”
Despite herself, she snorted. “Stop calling me Legs.” It was insulting…and made her want to dissolve in a puddle at his feet. Damn the man.
“I like the look of your legs, so I’m going to keep doing it. Now, how big are we thinking?”
Big. Thick and long.
Wait, that wasn’t what he was asking.
Austin gave a deep chuckle. “I can see from your face where your mind went, and yes, big is a good word for it. However, I was talking about your tattoo.”
Sierra refused to meet his gaze but lifted her chin. “Confident of yourself. And I’m thinking the entire ribcage, side of my stomach, and down over my hips.” Her scar covered most of that, but since she would have to have ink around it, she wanted something to remember. Something that was worth the pain and memories.
“That’s big, but I think with your curves there, it’s going to look great. So hold tight and let me trace you.”
The pencil traced over her side, and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. They both gasped, but neither commented. They needed to stay professional for both their sakes. His calloused fingers pressed through her shirt and she held back a sigh. She had recovered most of the feeling in her side, and his hands were so large, so…male…that she new she’d never forget his touch.
“Ride with me.”
Sierra turned, confused. “What?”
Austin gazed into her eyes, intense. “Ride with me. On my bike in the mountains.”
Sierra broke out into a cold sweat. Visions of flames, the squeal of tires, and the smell of burnt flesh caused her knees to give out.
“Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” Austin murmured, his hands on her hips then her cheeks. “You don’t have to ride with me, not if you’re going to react like that. You don’t have to tell me why, but you can if you want. I’ll listen.”
She sucked in a breath, embarrassed for reacting like that. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Sierra.”
Damn it. She didn’t want to be lock
ed away in her past, unable to take a step into any kind of future. Eden had been a step, as had coming into Montgomery Ink, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
She needed to be a big girl and learn to breathe again.
Her gaze met Austin’s concerned one, and she swallowed hard. “Yes, Austin. Yes, I’ll ride with you.”
He looked like he didn’t believe her, but she’d show him. She was ready to move on, even if she had to force herself. She wouldn’t be hidden and caged. Not anymore.
If Austin could help her, well, then she’d take that step.
Finally.
Chapter Five
Shep Montgomery ignored the dagger eyes aimed at him, taking it as par for the course with this particular client. When Lisette came in for any ink, her man, Mathieu, came with her. And by came with her, Shep meant guarded her like a pit bull and practically growled at Shep for daring to touch his woman.
With a roll of his eyes, he cleaned off leftover ink and plasma so he could finish the shading on the koi fish. Lisette had come in with those flirty eyes of hers and her easy smile, begging Shep to draw a koi surrounded by a field of flowers and cool water over her hip and thigh. Shep loved working with her since she was so easy to please once they got the right design.
Shep guessed that Mathieu would cheerfully rip Shep’s arms off for where he had to place his hands during the process. And Shep knew his own wife, Shea, would probably do the same thing if anyone touched him like that. Actually, Shep might hurt anyone who thought they could ink Shea too, so he didn’t blame Mathieu in the slightest.
“You feeling good, Lisette?” Shep asked, his attention on his final shading and not on the man looming over the both of them. Seriously, Mathieu was one big motherfucker.
“Mmm,” she hummed, and Shep had to smile. He loved it when his clients fell into the bliss that was tattooing rather than tensed up the entire time. Lisette was a pro at this.
He added one last stroke then wiped the area, sitting back to appreciate his work. “All done. You need help up to see it in the mirror?”
“I’ve got her,” Mathieu grumbled.
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