by Sara Cate
“No, I should go. I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. Don’t go…”
When I turn back to him, I get lost in the breadth of his chest and the size of his arms and how badly I want to absorb myself in them again. And I don’t even know him.
I lowered my defenses, and I made a promise to myself a while ago that I would never do that again.
“Thank you,” I mumble, which makes him laugh. “But I really have to go.
“What about your tattoo?”
“Another time.” I’m almost to the door, sunlight on the other side reminding me that it’s only noon, and I’ve already made a complete ass of myself.
“Can I at least get your number?” he says, but I don’t answer him. I’m already out the door and walking back to the house. The sensitivity between my legs threatens to have me crumbling here on the sidewalk as my thighs brush together in my quick pace.
I should regret what I just did, but I don’t. Ruby told me to indulge myself today, and that’s certainly what I did.
We get a lot of weird encounters in the shop, but I’ve never had a client quite like that. The second I saw that girl, I knew she would fuck up my whole day. With her shoulder-length brown hair and petite frame, I know I’d never seen her before, figured she was new to town or a tourist in for the week.
But there was something else about her that drew me in. First of all, she was flirting with me, which happens a lot, but not usually in the middle of a Tuesday. Drunk spring breakers at midnight on a Tuesday, sure. But this girl just wandered into my shop without a reason and started flashing those dimples at me, and it caught me a little off guard.
I sure as fuck didn’t expect that strange turn of events. What started as a casual tattoo job turned into something far better. After one touch on her leg, I knew there was no way I’d be getting any tattoos done today, not with this new shake in my hands.
Immediately, I went to her liability waiver, hoping there’d be a number there, which sounds like something a stalker would do, but she can’t just come in here and rock my whole day off axis like that and then disappear. But when I pull it off the counter, I read the name.
Hazel Whitaker.
What the...fuck?
She gave me a fake name. Everyone on Wickett knows Hazel Whitaker, and she sure as fuck is not her.
Standing behind the counter, staring out the door she left through, I hear the back door open. Logan greets me from the break room, but I don’t respond. My head is still spinning.
I still have her on my mind, the feeling of her soft skin in my hands, the way seized up in my arms as her orgasm raked over her body, and the stiffness in my pants that never really went away.
“Slow morning?” he asks as he turns the corner to find me standing silently against the counter. It has indeed been a silently slow morning. Not one person even entered the room since, which is a small blessing.
“Interesting morning,” I mumble.
“Oh yeah?”
I glance over at Logan as he cleans up his station to get ready for an afternoon appointment.
“Yeah.” I get up from my stupor and walk over to the back of the shop where my small office can hide my current mood. He doesn’t ask anymore questions, but Logan knows that I like my privacy.
Logan and Rafe are like brothers to me, but not so much that I feel they deserve to know all of my secrets. And they respect that. They don’t need to know where my money comes from or what I do with my personal life, but they would be there to have my back anytime I need them. And vice versa.
I busy my mind with the expense report for the month, but there’s nothing new to add since yesterday so it’s nothing to stop my mind from wandering back to the feeling of her heaving tits against my chest and her gasp in my ear. God damn, I want to kiss her again. She tasted sweet, like honey, and if I lick my lips, it’s like she’s here. In my mind, she’s still in my arms.
It’s been too long. Too fucking long.
Normally, I can distract myself with a girl down at the bar, something that doesn’t last and requires little effort. Nothing very exciting either. Certainly nothing as intoxicating as a stranger on a whim.
My phone buzzes against the desk.
A welcome distraction, I pick it up, expecting a client or Rafe on a bender, but this time it’s a number I know. A number I haven’t seen in a very long time.
The doctor has informed us that it won’t be long. If you’d like to see her again, now would be a good time.
My heart skips a beat in my chest.
Fuck.
If I put down my phone, can I act like I didn’t just see this? Can I pretend it’s not real? That the last year when I’ve essentially ignored the one person I shouldn’t ignore didn’t really happen?
Instead, I type my reply.
I’m on my way.
When I enter the house, I’m still breathless. Ruby is in the kitchen, cleaning out the bullet blender she uses to make Hazel’s breakfast smoothie.
“You run all the way back?” she asks with a laugh.
“Kind of,” I answer, thinking about the guy sitting in his tattoo shop probably wondering what the hell just happened.
Ruby gives me one of her usual confused looks. She’s long given up on trying to figure me out, I can tell, but she hasn’t yet let her guard down. She doesn’t quite trust me, and I can’t say I blame her. I showed up out of the blue almost a year ago, and Hazel brought me in like I was one of her own kids.
“Where is she at?” I ask after washing my hands.
“On the patio. She says the sunshine is stronger than chemo.”
I let out a small, silent laugh. She does say stuff like that. She also says a fat joint and some good sex is stronger than chemo, but Ruby’s not cut out for comments like that, so I keep those to myself. Those conversations are just for us.
“Can I take her something?” I ask before heading out to sit next to her. Just being around Hazel so she has someone to talk to is the main part of my ‘job.’ As too good to be true as it sounds, that’s what I was hired to do. I can admit it now, but I’d do it even if I wasn’t being paid for it. I enjoy Hazel’s company, and I’ve really stopped seeing her as so different than me. Her stories rival mine, and that’s saying something.
“Yeah,” Ruby calls from the pantry. “Grab the large umbrella from the garage if you could. She needs a little shade or she’ll fry like bacon out there.”
“Good idea,” I answer from halfway down the long hallway toward the garage. Hazel’s house isn’t exactly gigantic, but’s value lies more in the location than the size. It has the best view in all of Wickett: that’s for sure. But even I’m impressed by the long hallways and massive garage this house entails. It doesn’t matter that Hazel gets zero use out of her garage. She doesn’t even drive anymore.
The giant room mainly operates as storage these days, with a few random motorcycles there that I’ve been harping on her to explain, but she refuses. Once I figured out that the topic was a sore one, I dropped it.
I don’t even think twice when I step into the garage to find it open. We often keep it that way when we’re bringing groceries in since it’s the fastest route, and no one can really see her drive from here anyway, so we feel safe.
When I start rifling through the storage shed to find the large umbrella, I hear a boot scrape against the floor behind me. I scream even before turning around.
My first instinct is that it’s a rat, which isn’t ideal, but it’s better than an intruder. I flip around in a whirl to see a man silhouetted against the bright sun behind him.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he mutters, and my heart only hammers harder when my eyes adjust and I realize I’m staring at the tattoo shop owner. He’s standing in my garage.
“What the—” he stammers as he recognizes me at the same moment I recognize him.
“You followed me,” I mumble as I slowly back away toward the door to the house. “Ruby!” I scream through th
e cracked door.
“What are you doing here?” he barks at me, and my head spins.
Me? What am I doing here? What is he doing here?
“I’m calling 9-1-1!” I respond through a desperate shriek.
“I live here.” His voice is deep and carries with it a tone of consternation, like I’m the one out of place.
“You do not live here.” I keep backing away toward the open door. “Ruby!” I scream again, frozen in place. It’s like finding a spider in your house. You’re more afraid if you turn away it’ll disappear and haunt you in the night. I’m ready for this guy to snap at any moment and reveal that he’s actually a serial stalker and murderer of young women.
“I mean, I lived here. So who the fuck are you and where is Hazel?” He steps forward, and my eyes go wide.
A second later Ruby is behind me, pulling open the door and staring at the same large, stoic stranger in the garage.
“Well, that was fast,” she whispers to him.
“Where is she?” he mutters in return.
“She’s on the patio, but you need to prepare yourself, Mr. Murphy—”
“Oh, fuck that,” he says interrupting her. Then, he spins on his heel and stalks away without another word. I assume he’s going to the patio.
When I glance at Ruby, I catch an eye roll. She mumbles some choice words under her breath before turning to me to help me find the umbrella.
“Who...is that?”
She glances at me with an amused smile. “Oh, Murph? A pain in my ass, that’s what.”
“A relation?”
She glances at me again, her deep brown eyes sizing me up, like she’s deciding how much to tell me. “Not exactly.” Together we hoist the large patio table umbrella from the storage bin, and she stands it up between us before continuing. “It’s complicated. Don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is worse than his bite.”
My heart is still thumping in my ears when we reach the patio with the umbrella. The tattoo artist is sitting on a patio seat across from Hazel, and by the tense arch to his brow, he’s not too happy about her condition.
“Oh, Savannah, there you are,” Hazel says with a smile. Her large sunglasses engulf her face, and she reaches a hand out to me. “Savannah, this is my Murph. Murph, this is my new nurse, Savannah.”
My stomach coils as I see the way she looks at him. Oh please, Jesus, do not let him be an old lover of hers. I would seriously have to consider moving again if that’s the case.
“Hello,” I breathe as she pulls me to sit in the seat between them. I can’t take my eyes off the bearded man next to me. He was just at the shop when I was. How could he have ended up here just after me? And how have I never heard of him in nearly a year?
“I didn’t know you got a new nurse,” he says without peeling his gaze off my face.
“Well, how could you? You haven’t called or come by in almost a year.” Hazel points a hard glare at him, but like all of Hazel’s hard expressions, there’s a playfulness there too. Even in her angriest—which I have seen a time or two in this difficult year—she always seems to have a laugh behind it. As if she’s laughing at the universe.
Murph’s face portrays far less humor. “I have no excuse. This year was difficult for me.”
“I heard about your friend,” she responds. I am a ping pong ball in the middle of their game, glancing back and forth, still struck by this new relationship—well, new to me.
He doesn’t answer, but I see him swallow. I’m desperately waiting to hear about his friend, but he doesn’t say anything, only clenches his jaw even harder. Was he this hard-looking at the tattoo shop? Why wasn’t I terrified of him then...because god knows I’m scared of him now.
“Savannah,” Hazel chirps, touching my arm with her hand. “Would you give Murph and I a moment to speak? I’d love a sweet tea.”
“Of course,” I croak. As I stand to leave, my eyes linger again on Murph’s soft lips peeking through the dark beard. It’s like he can see me watching as he licks them, sending chills down my spine. It’s got me wishing he would follow me into the house and corner me in some quiet room, which is definitely against my rules.
If I knew what was good for me, I’d ignore this guy, but even I know how unlikely that is.
“Where the hell did you find this one?” I ask.
Hazel laughs as she pulls a Pall Mall from her pack and hands one to me. Her thin fingers shake as she tries to light it, and I have to look away. “You know how I love my lost causes.”
“Oh, well you certainly found one.” I’m not going to tell her about the little encounter at the shop, but I should have pegged Savannah for one of Hazel’s. The old woman has always had a soft spot for the reckless, lost, and desperate, and the kind of girl who climbs all over the nearest guy like she hasn’t been properly fucked in months sure fits the bill.
“Well, the rest of you all grew up and left me. Can you blame me?”
A sting of guilt pinches the nerves in my chest, but I clear my throat and light the cigarette in my hand.
“How did you find her?”
She laughs. “I put an ad in the paper. First, I asked for a nurse...but the applicants were awful.”
This means they were probably too qualified and too serious.
“So then I changed the ad and asked for someone to do menial, degrading work for a very low price.” She laughs again. “I hired Savannah on the spot. She was obviously just out of a bad relationship. On her own for the first time. Alone and desperate.”
“Your favorite,” I growl.
“Don’t you judge me. I’ve got more money than I can spend at this point. And from what? Marrying bad men? Surviving?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, interrupting her. “I just don’t want to see you getting taken advantage of.”
“That’s exactly what I want, Murph. Now stop treating me like I’m already senile. I can take care of myself.”
At that moment, Savannah returns with a tall glass of sweet tea and places in front of Hazel.
“Ruby’s coming,” she whispers to Hazel. “Don’t let her see that, please.”
“Oh, fuck her,” Hazel quips back, which makes both Savannah and I snicker quietly. “I’m dying. I can do whatever I want.”
Those words feel like a punch to the gut, and I have to swallow down the emotion that lodges itself in my throat. Even when Ruby comes out and starts her little fit over the cigarette, I can’t even manage a smile. I can only think about the year of Hazel’s passing life that I missed because I was too caught up on my own drama, losing someone else that I cared about. Wallowing in misery over my own fucked up life.
And she does look paler and thinner than I expected. Her shoulders are gaunt, like the body of an already dead person. Her cheeks are hollowed in more than before, and her once tan skin is so pale, she looks like she may wither away to ash at any second.
“Leave her alone, Ruby,” I growl.
All eyes at the table are on me. It’s specifically Savannah’s stare that catches my attention. The tension is thick, the risk of emotions even more dangerous than ever.
“Ruby, I think I’ll go lie down for a bit,” Hazel says with her focus on me. Before standing up, she subtly gestures toward Savannah, as if she wants me to stay and talk to her.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I give her a quick nod. I’ll be more than glad to case this girl out and figure out her motives.
“I’m sure when I wake you’ll be gone,” she says to me from the doorway. “But I hope you won’t stay away for quite as long.”
Then, she’s gone. Walking with the help of Ruby’s arm. She looks ten times worse when trying to walk than she did sitting in that chair.
The patio is awkwardly silent as I lean back, crossing my ankle over my knee. It’s the first solo moment with Savannah since I scared her half to death in the garage. She’s keeping her eyes on the table, and it gives me a moment to admire her rich, tan skin and the fullness of her lips. Her wavy dark hair is cut j
ust above her shoulders, and she has a beauty mark above her lip that I didn’t notice before. Not that I had the time to.
“I had no idea,” she mumbles, still looking at her hands while her fingers fidget with a cloth napkin.
“No idea I was your employer’s son?”
“You’re not her son,” she says without question. Still biting her lip, she brings her heated gaze to my face. I like the way I scare her. I can see it in her eyes, that something about me makes her tremble, and she challenges me anyway.
“Might as well be,” I answer.
“Then how come I’ve never heard of you? There are no pictures of you in the house.”
“Maybe you just don’t recognize me. It’s not like you spent enough time looking at my face.”
“I don’t have to deal with this.” Her shoulders tense as she sits up a little higher. I can’t hide the playful smirk on my face.
“So, it was just a coincidence. You show up at my work and put my hands up your skirt—”
She stands, huffing loudly.
“Sit down.” My words come out harsher than I intend them to, but I don’t want her walking away, and I panic.
I can see her hesitate. She doesn’t want to listen to me, but she does anyway. Slowly, she lowers herself in her seat, biting her lip and keeping her eyes on me.
“We can put what happened between us in the past, but whatever you’re playing here, I’m not buying it. Hazel likes to help people like you—like us,” I correct myself. “But you and I aren’t the only ones, and there were others who took advantage of that.”
“I’m not,” she spits out at me, her nostrils flared and her eyes wild.
I hold up a hand to stop her, and she backs down. It’s disarming how much control I have over her, without even trying.
“Now, Hazel might be okay with that. With ungrateful little assholes making off with her assets, but I’m not. So I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”
“Fine.”
My eyes roam over the features of her face again, then down to her collarbone and the thin purple dress that she wore as she straddled me just hours ago. I wish she’s do it again, I think, and my mind starts to play with the idea of what else we could do with a little more time.