Beneath These Shadows

by Meghan March

  I’d never let myself give enough thought to my future for permanence to be part of it. Maybe it was time for that to change . . . but that meant the threat that kept me moving every few years would have to be removed from the equation. I had no idea if they were still looking for me, but I knew better than to settle.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t have any intentions of that sort, Mr. Flowers.”

  Mr. Flowers studied us both. “I think you’ll be surprised by what he intends, young lady. Thank you for the donuts, and keep the change.”

  He lifted the box and shuffled out of the shop, but not before pausing beside me to say, “I might be old, but I still know how to get rid of a body. You treat Miss Eden right.”

  I nodded, holding back the smile his words produced. “Understood, sir.”

  The door chimed as he stepped outside, and I turned back to Eden. Her cheeks were still stained pink as I stepped up to the counter.

  “He just threatened to kill me if I treated you badly,” I told her, wondering if those cheeks would get darker. They did, all the way to a bright red.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead serious.”

  She shook her head. “He came in an hour ago and just wanted to chat. It took us forty-five minutes to finally get around to picking out his donuts.”

  “Guess that’s your special magic then. Making people want to spend more time around you.”

  This time her eyes widened comically. “Yeah . . . I’m sure that’s it. Just look at you. You want to spend as much time around me as you would around someone with the plague.”

  Her statement threw me. “You think I don’t want to be around you?”

  “Every time I see you, you’re gone so fast, it’s like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

  “Maybe I don’t think you’ll be able to handle what I’d want if I stayed.”

  The red continued to color her cheekbones, but Eden straightened her shoulders and stood taller. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

  I stepped forward and pressed both hands to the purple laminate counter. “You sure about that, cupcake? Because I’m not exactly sweet and easy.”

  “I gathered that from the girls waiting in the room at the hotel.”

  A shaft of regret that she saw them stabbed through me. “Two-on-one isn’t my thing, so don’t worry about that.”

  No, if I got tangled up in Eden, had her in my bed the way I wanted her, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let her go. But given my newfound possibilities of permanence . . . maybe I could keep her.

  “Well, I’m definitely not into two-on-one, so that wouldn’t even be in the realm of possibilities.”

  The fact that I was standing in Your Favorite Hole talking to Eden about how neither of us wanted a threesome struck me as surreal. I had to dial it back before we got way ahead of ourselves.

  “What time do you get off work?” When her eyes popped open wide again, I smiled. “To hang out. Get some food. See what happens.”

  “I’m here until midnight, and then I have to shower and change so I don’t smell like donuts.”

  “You can shower at my place. I’ll find you something to wear.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I don’t think you’re walking home from work by yourself, and I’ll be working until at least twelve thirty on this portrait. Come over when you’re done, and you can let yourself upstairs.”

  The indecision warring inside her played out on her features, but I knew I’d won when she replied. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll even make you a late dinner.”

  “You cook?” Her tone was pure surprise.

  “I got a few tricks up my sleeve, cupcake. Guess you’ll find out what they are tonight. Now, how about a large black coffee and a bag of donut holes so I can push through and finish the rest of this tat?”

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE I WAS going to spend tonight with Bishop. Well, not spend the night, but it was way past evening, so I wasn’t sure what else to call it. I locked up the shop, still marveling that Fabienne had given me a key on my first day, and readjusted my bag over my shoulder.

  Bishop had a valid point. I hadn’t thought about how I’d be getting home after work on the nights I worked the late shift. As I knew all too well, me walking through the French Quarter by myself wasn’t always the smartest move. But as I walked into the front door of Voodoo, and both Bishop and his client looked at me, I wondered if this was an even dumber move.

  As Bishop already knew, my experience level wasn’t exactly advanced, and I had no idea what he expected tonight.

  “Hi.” My voice wavered only marginally as I called the greeting. “Do you want me to just—”

  My words were cut off as the door chimed behind me and clicking heels hit the floor.

  “Hey, baby. You got time for me tonight? I want ink and cock, but I’d take just cock if you ain’t got time for the other.”

  I spun around at the slurred, smoky voice to find a girl with bright red hair and almost no clothes on. Her body was ridiculous.

  Is she a stripper? From the minuscule ripped tank and tiny little hot shorts to the towering six-inch clear stilettos, I didn’t feel my mental question was unfair.

  Bishop’s tone was no-nonsense when he responded. “Out of luck on all counts, Star. Head on home.”

  Her rough laugh followed. “You know you’re interested. Like you got better plans for later?”

  Bishop’s face stayed expressionless. “You might want to get a cup of coffee on your way home too.”

  The expression on her face morphed from smug and happy to harsh and downright ugly in a flash, and her attention turned to me.

  “What? With this girl? Queen prim and proper? She do that schoolgirl-uniform shit and act like a naughty little slut for you? I know you like that kind of thing.”

  The muscle in Bishop’s jaw ticked, but nothing else gave away what he was thinking. “The next time you need ink, you’re gonna have to find someone else because this shop no longer exists for you anymore.”

  “You never did know a good thing when you had it. Fuck off, Bishop.” She turned on her giant heel and clipped her way out, slamming into my shoulder and pausing. “Slut, you won’t be able to keep him. No one can.”

  When the door shut behind her, I turned to Bishop and mouthed a silent wow.

  “Sorry about that, man,” he said to the customer first.

  “No worries, dude. You don’t have to explain crazy to me. I’ve got an ex-wife who could give her a run for her money.”

  “I’ll be back in a second.”

  Bishop lowered the tattoo machine to the counter, snapped off a glove, and came toward me.

  “What’d she say to you?”

  I shook my head. “Not important.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Do you mind if I go up and shower?”

  Bishop’s hand landed under my chin, and he lifted my gaze to his. “What’d she say, Eden?”

  “She called me a slut and told me I wouldn’t be able to keep you because no one could. That’s all. Moving on now.”

  He didn’t move his hand, and the muscle in his jaw ticked again. “If Delilah were here, she’d track her down and kick her ass. Star’s drunk, probably hopped up on pills, and what she said was dead fucking wrong.”

  I nodded. “I know. I’m not a slut.”

  His expression softened. “That’s not all she was wrong about.”

  My heart beat harder at the words and the possible implications.

  “Go on upstairs and take a shower. I’ll be up in a little while.” Bishop lowered his hand from my chin and laced his fingers through mine. “Come on. The door is this way.”

  He pulled me toward the back hallway of the shop and stopped before the door next to the employee break room. I’d assumed it opened to a closet or something, but when Bishop pulled it open, I realized I was wrong. Inside was a stairway leading up to a door.

  “It’s un
locked. There should be a clean towel in the closet in the bathroom. You can grab a shirt out of my dresser if you don’t want to put your work clothes back on. Hell, you can even wash them if you want. Washer and dryer are up there too, in the big closet by the door.”

  “Uh . . . okay. I’ll be good. Sorry to interrupt your work.”

  “You’re not an interruption, cupcake. You’re a breath of fucking fresh air. Go on up. I’ll be done soon.”

  With his words propelling me, I climbed the stairs as he shut the door behind me.

  I stood in front of the shower, debating how tonight was going to go. I truly had no expectations, but something had changed between us. Bishop wasn’t the gruff, brusque, and nearly mute broody guy who I had a crush on anymore. Now he was looking at me like I mattered. Like this might not be all one-sided and mostly in my head.

  What was I supposed to do with that?

  I didn’t know how long I would be here, and I’d decided that was okay. Not knowing gave me some time to soak up all the adventures I could, but with it came a sense of urgency so I didn’t waste it.

  The edges of my plan had frayed until it was in tatters. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be part of this little world I’d discovered. I liked the people and loved the city, even if I still got lost half the time.

  And Bishop? What if this could be more than the dreams I had at night and the crush I nursed during the day? What if it could be real? I honestly didn’t have a clue how to have a real relationship.

  That was something to worry about some other time. Like when I wasn’t about to get naked in Bishop’s apartment.

  I’m getting naked in Bishop’s apartment. Holy shit.

  “I THINK I’M GONNA CALL it a night, man. We knew I’d need another session, so you cool with stopping now?”

  My client’s question was the best thing I could imagine him asking. “Your call.”

  He grinned. “What kind of guy would I be if I kept you down here working when you’ve got that sweet thing upstairs waiting for you? A shit guy, that’s what kind.”

  I could try to pretend I hadn’t been thinking about Eden since the second I’d walked back into the room. “It’s up to you.”

  He lifted his arm. “Just wrap me up, and I’ll give you my money and get out of your way.”

  “Sounds good. Let me make sure I’ve got you down for the second session and see if I need to block out more time.”

  I taped the wrap around the partially completed tattoo and snapped off my gloves again before tossing them in the trash.

  After taking care of shit at the counter, I locked up the shop after he left and hustled back to my room to clean everything up faster than I’d ever done before.

  My client was right that I’d never had quite the incentive like I did now.

  Eden was upstairs, and I was still figuring out how I was going to let this play out. I’d never wanted a woman the way I wanted her, but I wasn’t rushing things. Now that I’d let myself start considering the possibility of something that lasted beyond a night, everything had changed.

  I flipped off the lights and opened the door to upstairs. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening for the sound of water, but heard nothing. Taking them two at a time, I reached the top and opened the door. Steam wafted from the open bathroom door, but I didn’t see Eden when I looked inside.

  I froze on the threshold of my bedroom. She faced away from me as she pulled a T-shirt over her head, covering her naked skin inch by inch.

  Fuck.

  When it dropped to cover her rounded ass, I wanted nothing more than to stride forward and lift it up again.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d breathed too loud or what, but Eden spun around.

  “Uh . . . I borrowed a shirt.” And she did. White, with the Voodoo Ink logo on the front. The water from her skin and hair was already making it see-through in spots.

  I had to clear my throat to find my voice. “I see that. You hungry?”

  “Yes.” The glint in her dark eyes betrayed the fact that she wasn’t just hungry for food, but something still held me back. I could stride across the threshold and have her under me in that bed, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t want her to think that was the only reason I asked her to come up here. I’d never been in this situation, so I had to play it by ear.

  “Then you’re in luck because tonight you’re gonna have killer shrimp stir-fry. You like seafood, right?”

  Eden nodded, keeping the smile pinned to her face, but it didn’t quite cover her disappointment.

  Don’t worry, cupcake. You’re gonna get what you need. I don’t have it in me to wait too much longer.

  She followed me out of the bedroom and into the living area, and I nodded toward the old turntable on top of the entertainment system. “Go flip through the vinyl and pick something.”

  My collection was one of the things I’d always figured would suck to leave when I moved on, because I traveled light. Now that the possibility of staying in New Orleans was taking root, everything in me was lighter with a sense of relief.

  I pulled open the fridge and grabbed the bowl of shrimp that had been thawing since noon, and a container of cooked rice. I was rinsing the shrimp when the sound of Louis Armstrong came on.

  Footsteps padded into the kitchen, and I looked over my shoulder. “Nice choice. A favorite of mine.”

  “I figured since it looked like it was near the top of the stack. I’ve always liked Louis too.”

  “You want to help? It’s not required, but if you’re in the mood to chop vegetables, I could use a hand.”

  A flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “I’m a terrible cook. Like honestly terrible. So if you don’t care what the vegetables look like, then I’m happy to help. If you care what they look like, you might not want my knife-wielding skills.”

  “Grab the celery and carrots out of the fridge and go to town. They don’t have to be pretty.”

  “Aye aye, captain.”

  We worked in companionable silence for several minutes before Eden spoke.

  “You don’t have a New Orleans accent. Where are you from?”

  I kept my focus on deveining the shrimp as I rinsed each one. “A little bit of everywhere. I started out in the east and ended up down south.”

  “What kept you moving?”

  “A whole lot of things. Long story, not always pretty. Guess you could call me a wanderer.”

  Eden paused in her chopping for a moment before saying, “Most stories aren’t always pretty. That’s what gives them true beauty. I’ve always wanted to wander.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t exactly have the option.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Another long story. Not so pretty. Mostly, my father wouldn’t allow it.”

  I finished up the shrimp and grabbed a big pan from the cupboard. “And did you always do what your father said?”

  Eden’s voice quieted. “I couldn’t ignore his orders and get away with it.”

  “Tough guy?”

  “When he was around. The rest of the time my aunt raised me, or I was by myself.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Fine. She was my father’s half sister and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of love for him. But he paid for her life, so it wasn’t like she could do anything but be passive-aggressive about it when he wasn’t around. Which was most of the time.”

  With each piece she revealed, I got a clearer idea of why Eden seemed so sheltered and yet wanted to see the world and be a part of it.

  “Anyway, that’s all boring. Tell me about you.”

  I poured oil in the skillet before moving across the kitchen to rest a palm on the counter on either side of Eden. “How are the vegetables coming?”

  I glanced down at the pile on the cutting board and leaned closer. The veggies looked like they’d been hacked to pieces, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, it was the scent of my shampoo on Eden’s hai
r. I leaned closer and breathed it in. I liked it. A whole fucking lot.

  “It was a massacre,” she said with a laugh, laying the knife on the counter and turning around to face me. In the circle of my arms, Eden smiled up at me. “No survivors.”

  I WANTED HIM TO KISS me. When he first walked into the apartment, I’d wanted him to rush into the bedroom and pick me up and kiss the hell out of me before throwing me down on the bed and climbing on top, or even better, letting me climb on top so I could finally explore him. But something had stopped Bishop, and I didn’t know how to change it.

  Was I really so bad at sending signals that he wasn’t getting the all clear for forward movement sign? I wasn’t afraid to move this along. I was more afraid that he wouldn’t.

  His head lowered until his lips were an inch from mine. “You seem to have survived just fine, cupcake.”

  I wasn’t leaving it to chance this time. Pushing up on my tiptoes, I wrapped my hands around his shoulders before pressing my lips to his.

  Instead of pulling back like I’d feared, Bishop cupped a hand around my cheek and tilted my head for a better angle before his tongue dived into my mouth. It was like he was starving—for me.

  I wrapped a leg around his hip, and his free hand caught it and held me closer so I could press my center against the hardening bulge in his jeans. The T-shirt I wore rode up with each movement. Within moments, his palm was touching my bare skin, and I was in danger of leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

  With a boldness I’d never felt before, I released my grip on one shoulder and reached down between us. Shifting my hips a few inches, I palmed his cock and squeezed.

  Bishop’s sexy groan was my reward.

  He pulled his lips away, but didn’t release my face. His gaze burned into mine as he spoke.

  “You make me want a hell of a lot more than your hand on my cock, cupcake.”

  I swallowed. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  He released my face and lowered his hand to where mine was gripping him, and peeled my fingers away.

  “First, I need to know.”