by Taryn Quinn
“Have Brit show you. She gets a kick out of being bossy.”
“Christ, yeah, she does.”
Ben grinned. “Hey, one more thing.”
John turned around. “Yeah?”
“Tell me that wasn’t you at Blackstone’s.”
John’s brows beetled down and his brown eyes went flat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dammit. He could read his brother’s tell every damn time. “Fuck, Johnnie. Really?”
John shook his head. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“Brit had her accident weeks ago. Why now?”
“I tripped over the bike in the fucking driveway. I don’t even remember driving over to the store.”
Ben sighed. “Yeah, well, the manager over there happens to be my landlady.”
John’s bloodshot eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish.” Ben had gotten a rundown of the entire incident thanks to Jaime. “They called the cops.”
“They haven’t shown up.” John’s voice was belligerent.
“The last time you were in trouble you were what? Twenty? You don’t look like you’re twenty anymore. I doubt they’ll figure it out. They weren’t sure on the name.”
“And you kept your fucking mouth closed?”
“Hey.” Ben softened his sharp tone and took a deep breath. “No, I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know if it was you or not, but how many little girls have broken their clavicle in Easton? I was hoping I was wrong, man.”
“What? So now you’re going to go tattle on me?”
“No.” Ben’s gut tightened. He’d already fixed her store. She didn’t need to know it was his brother. Not now. Hell, she didn’t even want to see him, let alone talk to him. Not as if he gave her the chance. He’d been taking every late shift for the last week and a half. “I helped her out.”
“Come again?”
Ben shrugged. “She saw what I did to her house and let me try out my motion lights on her store.”
“Aw, crap. You’re boning her.”
“Shut your mouth, John. Don’t talk about her like that.” The anger was quick and he struck out before he could hold back.
“Shit, Ben. Didn’t you learn with the last chick? Don’t shit where you eat, or in your case, don’t fuck where you live. Believe me, it’s not worth it.”
Ben knew John was bitter about his ex, but it wasn’t like that with Darcy. “We hooked up, but it’s no big deal.”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t a big deal you wouldn’t be staring death daggers at me. Son of a bitch.” John jammed his hat into his pants pocket, digging his fingers into his hair. “Look, just don’t say anything, all right? I’ve got enough going on just to pay for those fucking doctors.”
John made a good living as a mechanic. Just good enough to make them ineligible for the kids’ programs for the state insurance healthcare. And the plan at the shop was shitty at best.
Ben sighed. “Look, it’s a done deal. I rocked it out on her store.”
John snorted. “And rocked out on the chick.”
Ben winced. She wasn’t just some chick. “Let’s just get inside before Brit sneaks on the computer.”
John looked at his watch. “She’s gotta be hungry.” And just like that, John went from angry shit to doting dad. His only saving grace was Brittany.
Ben ate with his family, letting Brit’s infectious laughter choke the last of his anger out. By the time he’d downed a few slices it was time to head into the shop.
He had a few appointments to get through and a special request to go over with an eighteen-year-old kid. Steering people toward the right tattoo was as important as the final product.
He backed down the alley that butted against their shop and grabbed his sketchpad before getting out. He unlocked the tiny back door to his place that led to the storage-catch-all room. Cesar’s playlist pulsed from every wall. He moved down the hall, flicking on the Tru-Lite overheads in his space on the lower level.
He walked out to the waiting room. A neon purple and red sign hung in the center of the deep plum feature wall of their shop. They’d designed the sign together so it had a bit of each of them. It had been Cesar’s idea to send it out for neoning. He hadn’t been sure about the idea until the sign had been delivered.
His best friend was very good at big elements of color. Luna Hart filled the center of the wall. Ben’s designs were painstakingly lined up and matted on the left side and the right side looked like Gangland L.A. with Cesar’s bold, bright style and haphazard mixed media display.
And just because Cesar was a crazy-ass idiot, he had a papier-mâché wreath hanging from the L in the sign. Instead of green and red, it was their colors.
Evidently it had been a slow night last night. When Cesar got bored, he started sculpting. The medium of the month was glue and paper. God help him. “Cee, where are you?” he shouted over the driving industrial music.
“I’m workin’! You know the music is only this loud if I’m mid-ink.”
Ben climbed the three stairs to the upper studio where Cesar worked in a Plexiglas box. Personally, Ben didn’t like the entire waiting room watching him like that.
Cesar was definitely the exhibitionist of their outfit. A woman with breasts the good Lord certainly hadn’t given her was sprawled out on the extra-wide chair his partner had made himself. He was shading a delicate daisy around the woman’s nipple.
“Uh—sorry.”
“It’s fine.” The woman waved him in.
One of the things that continued to amaze him was the vast array of people that came in. Some were so modest he needed a penlight to do the work so they could remain covered, and some just didn’t care in the least. Cesar got the ones that modesty forgot.
“I’ve got a few appointments, you?”
“Yeah, maybe four more today.”
Ben nodded. “Cool, I’ll catch you on the downtime.” He went back out to the waiting room and busied himself with the day-to-day details that Cesar found too boring to deal with. The routine grounded him. Ordering in the special inks they needed for an expo, their standard colors, office supplies and cleaners. They couldn’t trust anyone else but themselves when it came to keeping a clean shop.
The people in his business were fastidious for a reason and those that weren’t didn’t have any right to hold a tattoo gun. Disgusted that everything in his brain headed into negativity, he opened his sketchbook. That was one thing he and Cesar would always agree on. Sketch through the shitty days.
His evening picked up with a few walk-ins that he shared with Cesar. The newly of-age kid he’d been set to meet up with couldn’t make it. Which was probably a good thing. He didn’t have the patience to handhold and talk the kid out of getting a dinner-plate-sized skull on his back tonight.
He kneaded his fingertips into the tight muscles at the base of his neck and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook.
“You know, if you wanna talk about it or some shit, I can.”
Ben looked up at Cesar. His friend rubbed at the severe fade that stacked up the back of his head. “Anyone as twisted up as you are has chick problems. I suck at chick problems, but I can—you know, listen.”
He laughed for the first time in days. A week and a half without Darcy and he was a fucking head case. Cesar was so uncomfortable Ben was pretty sure the bottle of whiskey under the counter was going to come out next. When in doubt, get drunk. That was his friend’s motto.
“I’ve been that bad?”
“Maybe.”
Ben stood, slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Cee. I’m good. I thought I found someone, but it turned out to be a bit of a clusterfuck. Shit happens.”
“Was she hot?” Cesar folded his arms over his massive chest.
“Yeah. She’s that chilly kind of hot that warms up when she smiles.”
“Tall?”
Ben frowned. “Yeah, actually. Almost six-feet tall. Why?”
“Hot chick at
your six, bro.”
Ben turned around. Darcy stood in the doorway of his shop. All the air in his lungs stalled, then backed up. He rubbed at the burning knot under his breastbone.
She had a blood-red hip-length coat on today. Her hair was windblown. Actually, a little on the wild side for Darcy. She stalked forward. “You took down the lights.”
Ben lifted his chin. He didn’t have to answer to her. “Yes, I did. You hate them.”
She crossed her arms. “I told you to leave them.”
“They’re my lights. And I wanted to take them down.”
The coat billowed behind her as she came down the three stairs to their lounge area. “You love those lights.”
Ben stood his ground. “Not anymore.”
“Why?”
Cesar grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, I think I’m just going to go.”
Ben held up a hand. “No. Darcy was just leaving.”
“No, Darcy’s not leaving.” She turned to his best friend. “Cesar, right?”
Cesar’s eyebrows rose, the ring that pierced his right arch flipping up. “Yeah.”
“I need to talk to Ben.”
“This is my place, Darcy. You don’t get to boss anyone around here.”
She turned her attention back to Cesar. “Do you have more appointments?” That damn librarian voice came out, making his chest ache.
Cesar flipped his jacket over his shoulder. “No ma’am.”
“Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to leave us alone?”
Cesar smiled. “Man, you are so doomed. Just marry her and get it over with.”
Ben tipped his head. Un-fucking-believable. “Traitor.”
Cesar chuckled and clomped up the steps, his shit-kickers unbuckled as usual. “Doomed! I’m telling you right now, bro.”
“Out!” they both yelled.
The door slammed on Cesar’s exit.
“You can’t come in here and act like this. You’re the one that told me to take a hike. So I did. With my lights.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little childish?”
Ben shook his head. “Practical. You should be proud, since you think I have too much fun to be serious.”
“Don’t give me that sarcastic crap, Ben Hartley. I came home tonight to a dark house. No warning, no explanations. Just—dark.”
“I left the little tree lit up.”
“Yeah, one tree, damn you. One stupid tree that looked so stupid and lonely in the middle of my dark lawn.”
He cracked his thumb knuckle. “I should have left the porch light on. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what I mean, you idiot.” She pushed her hair out of the way. “Dammit. I’ve been getting used to the Ben Christmas that puked all over my house, and now you’re going to take it all away?”
She was too much. Only this woman would equate Christmas with puke. “Tell me how you really feel, Darc.”
“How I really feel?”
He folded his arms, digging his fingertips into his triceps. The woman was making him insane. “Yeah, actually. How you really feel.”
She took off her gloves, jammed them in her pockets and grabbed his ears, dragging him down to her mouth. The kiss was imperfect and messy and she tasted of Diet Coke. He slid his hands under her coat and gripped the soft sweater she was wearing and held on, swallowing all the frustration she let loose and giving back some of his own.
She pressed her forehead to his jaw, dragged her lips over his neck. “I miss you, Ben. I miss your laughter, I miss your smell and I miss your stupid lights.”
Dammit, she felt right in his arms. The weight of her, the way she fit, hell, even her snarky little digs at Christmas. He missed her. And now he even had pieces of her in his store. If she dropped him like a hot rock again, he was going to have to sell his freaking place. “I thought you didn’t have time for me.”
“I don’t.”
He took a step back.
She gripped his shoulders. “But I’ll make time.”
All the knots in his chest dissolved.
She hurried on, her evergreen eyes tired but shining. “It’s going to be crazy until the season ends, but I-I need you.”
“One second.” He closed his eyes. He dragged in her ocean scent and shifted his painful erection in his pants. “Home?”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“It’s a Thursday night. No clients.”
She sucked her bottom lip in, chewing until it was a bright raspberry color.
“Dammit, Darc.”
She smiled. “Show me your chair?”
“My… Oh.” He grinned, surprise and pleasure blending together. He twisted their fingers together, first drawing her up the steps to lock the door. But the light was out and the bolt was already thrown. Cesar was too smart for his own good some days.
He redirected them into his work station.
Her fingers tightened around his. “Oh wow.” She looked around in wonder. One wall was an illustrated mural of all his original designs. He liked to test it out with airbrush before inking on someone. Each design was paneled like a comic book highlighting the best of the design.
She slipped off her coat and went right to the wall, her fingertips tracing over the curves of a mermaid he’d done for a famous model last year. “Did you do this on a woman?”
He came up behind her, drawing her back against his thighs. “Yes.”
She looked over her shoulder, meeting his gaze, her mouth inches from his. “Where?”
“Her hip.”
Her blonde lashes fluttered down so he couldn’t see what was going on in her eyes. She was focused on his mouth. His dick tightened, strangling behind his zipper. “How long did it take?”
“Three sessions.”
Her gaze lifted. “How long’s a session?”
“For Amelia? It was three, four and two.”
“Hours?”
His mouth tipped up. “Takes a long time to work on someone, darlin’.”
“And you did it here?”
He shook his head. “When I worked in Boston. Though she did come in for a touchup a few months ago.”
“How does anyone deal with that much pain?”
“For Amelia it was a lot of pain actually. The hip,” he smoothed his hand over her corduroy pants, “is full of pain nerves. Even I haven’t gotten one there.” The velvety zip of the material under his palm kicked his texture lust into gear. He made a light circle on her hip and the side of her thigh.
“No.” She swished her ass against his zipper. “I found all yours.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Do you get off on the pain?”
His Darcy was certainly curious tonight. “No. You get into a sort of zone when you’re getting inked. Endorphins kick in and the pain sort of fades into a dull, hot ache.”
She nibbled on her lip again. Her eyes were dilated with interest and curiosity. “Oh.”
He drew the backs of his fingers up her ribs to tease just under her breast. “Do you want to get inked, Darcy?”
“I’m not sure.”
His eyebrow lifted. “A virgin requires a lot of care.”
“I’m no virgin, Hartley.”
“Darlin’, your skin is pure as a virgin’s. Freckles over cream. You have to be sure. It’s forever.”
“Where does it hurt least?”
“Tattoos hurt, period.”
She turned in his arms and lifted his shirt. His abs tightened as the cool air and her equally cool fingertips hit his skin. “I love your arm, but this…” She traced the trio of words that flowed together along his ribs. “I love this.” Then she traced it with her tongue.
He groaned under her touch, his nipple tightening as her nose brushed under his pec.
“I want one here. But smaller.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. A feisty grin slid across her full lips. “Do you want to pop my cherry, Ben?”
His cock throbbed. “Fuck, Dar
cy.” How many women had said similar things to him over the years? Too many to count. But he’d never done more than laugh after his first few years as a shop rat for his mentor.
He wanted to mark her with his ink. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
“You’re the only one I would trust.” She shimmied out of her sweater, leaving behind a lacy bra that had an extra panel of material between the cups.. Her toffee-colored nipples tented the cotton, showing through the lace.
“How the hell am I going to concentrate with you wearing that?”
She looked down. “It’s just a cami-bra.”
“Whatever it is,” he ducked his head and sucked a wet spot around her nipple, “I like it.”
She sifted her fingers through his hair. “You cut it.”
“I looked like a boy band reject.”
Darcy smiled down at him. “I like it.” She scraped her nails through the messy short strands along the top. “A lot.”
He stood up, drawing the tip of his finger around her nipple one last time before dropping his hand. “Do you really want to do this?”
She nodded. “Here.” She moved down an inch from the bottom of her bra along her right side. “Hope.”
“It will hurt there.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb along the top of her rib. “It’s close to bone.”
“I broke my ankle once. Anything like that kind of pain?”
He smiled. “Not even close.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Hop on the chair and lie on your side with your arm up over your head. There’s a grip bar up there if you need to grab on to something. Your tattoo artist appreciates it if it’s not his gun arm.”
She nodded, sawing at her lower lip again. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to do this, Darcy.”
“I know. I want to believe in hope again. Maybe if I see it on me every day I will.”
He leaned down. “I’ll make it beautiful.”
“I know you will.”
Chapter Twelve
He moved to the thermostat and bumped the heat. She tried to calm the hummingbird that was currently trying to bust out of her chest. This wasn’t what she’d intended to do when she got in her car.
The rage that had fueled her when she saw that lonely tree in the middle of her yard with the pathetic white lights had put her back into the car so fast she didn’t even realize she was heading into the center of town. She had Ben’s work address in her contacts on her phone and somehow she’d ended up on his street.