Rowdy

by Jay Crownover

  I ordered a floofy coffee drink and a brownie because they looked good, and tried to wring some water out of my long hair. I was shuffling back to the door, my eyes down as I put the brownie in my purse, and I didn’t see the woman I almost plowed down until it was too late. I barely caught her around her wrist as she bounced off of me and the collision sent her phone flying to the floor.

  We both gasped and I stammered out an apology because even though my coffee hadn’t spilled everywhere it still sloshed a little from the violence of the impact and got on the back of both of our hands.

  The woman waved me off and bent to retrieve her phone as I rushed to apologize again and again. I was even more apologetic when I noticed it was the same elegant, blond woman from the other day in the shop.

  She was wearing another sharp suit and her hair was pulled up in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were wide as she recognized me.

  “Sorry. I was reading e-mail on my phone and not paying any attention.”

  I snorted a little and flicked my hand to shake the cooling liquid off the back of it.

  “I was juggling a hundred things and my mind was a million miles away. I have a few minutes before I have to head back to the shop; let me buy you your coffee to apologize.”

  She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, really. I should have been paying attention.”

  I just ignored her and turned and walked to the line hoping she would follow me. She did, still telling me the gesture was unnecessary, but by the time it was our turn to order she had quieted down and I wasn’t surprised that she got a simple black coffee and didn’t add anything to it. This woman really seemed to be absolutely no frills and no nonsense, which again had me wondering why she had ventured into the tattoo shop in the first place.

  “I’m Salem Cruz, by the way.” I stuck my hand out and she shook it briskly.

  “Sayer Cole. I actually work at the family law building that’s a couple of blocks over.”

  I nodded and grinned a little. “You would be surprised how many lawyers are running around with tattoos nowadays. I sure hope it wasn’t your job that convinced you to forgo getting some ink.”

  She balked a little and turned a hot shade of pink. “No. I’m actually pretty new to Denver and was just out exploring.” She cleared her throat as we made our way back to the door. I was relieved to see the rain had let up some. “I stuck my head in on a whim. I’m not really sure what I was thinking.”

  She looked away from me as soon as she said it and I had the distinct feeling she wasn’t exactly being honest with me.

  “I’m new to the city, too. So far I love it here. Where did you move from?”

  “Seattle. I spent my whole life there. I needed a change.”

  I could relate. She asked me where I was from and I just laughed and told her all over. When she asked what had brought me to the Mile High City I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and asked, “Are you going to think I’m ridiculous if I tell you it has to do with a guy?”

  She shrugged a little and we stopped at the corner of the block. Her gaze darted away and again I got the really strong impression that she was only telling me half of what she meant. “No. I’m sort of here for a guy, too. Not in the romantic sense but a certain guy was definitely a motivating factor in why I accepted this transfer when my company decided they wanted to open an office in Denver.” She inclined her head in the opposite direction of the way I had to take to return to work and told me with genuine kindness lacing her tone, “I hope it works out for you.”

  I laughed. “I’m pretty persistent. If you change your mind about adding a little rock to your roll, come back by the shop. Those boys are doing some really spectacular work.”

  Her gaze drifted over the expanse of my tattooed arms. “I never realized how beautiful it could be, or how much art was really involved in tattooing.”

  “If it’s done right it is as beautiful as anything painted on a canvas and it’s the one kind of art you really can share with the world wherever you go.”

  The lights changed, and as we headed off in opposite directions I wondered about the polished young woman who seemed to have a lot of secrets. I silently hoped whatever had brought her to Denver worked itself out as well. Secrets or not, she seemed really nice.

  I pushed open the doors of the shop and had to wind my way through the people cluttering up the waiting area to get behind the desk. Cora was talking to two girls that were showing her pictures and the buzz of tattoo machines was steady in the background. Nash caught my eye and inclined his head at me. I stashed my purse after rescuing the brownie so I had it on hand for later and asked him what was up.

  He rubbed his hands over his shaved head and I wondered how often Saint did the same thing to him. Those flames he had tattooed along each side of his scalp were bright and fun. If he was my guy I would have my hands all over them every chance I got. His purplish eyes flashed at me with a mixture of good-natured humor and aggravation.

  “What do you need me to do in order for you to get that store upstairs up and running? I thought I had an idea, but every time I think I’m moving forward something happens and I get pulled in the opposite direction.”

  “I need you guys to give me some images, some kind of logo, so I can contact a screen printer and get the designs put on T-shirts and other apparel.” It had to be cute stuff and trendy stuff that fit with the vibe the guys had going on. “I think you should all base your design ideas off of tattoos each of you already has. The fangirls would go bonkers for it. You have that dragon, Rule has that snake on his arm.” I nodded when his eyes got squinty in thought. “Cora has all those flowers, and Rowdy has that anchor on his neck that is impossible to miss. All different, all distinct, and I think it would make a statement. That way we aren’t just branding the tattoo shops—we’re branding the people behind them.” I reached out and squeezed his impressive bicep. “I also think you should do a special limited-edition design for Phil. Something old-school, something badass that pays tribute to him and his hand in leaving this behind for you guys.”

  I saw his Adam’s apple slide up and down and his eyes blinked fast for a second until he cleared his throat and dipped his head down in a nod.

  “You are exactly the person we needed to make this happen. My dad really did know his shit.”

  I grinned. “He was a very smart and tricky man.”

  “He wanted you here for more than the shop, didn’t he?”

  I lifted a bare shoulder and let it fall. “Sometimes it takes someone from the outside to notice what is missing. Phil was really good at that.”

  Nash grunted his agreement and lifted a hand to wave his client over as he entered the shop.

  “He was.” He took a step around me and then paused and looked down at me. “The store was all Rowdy’s idea. The concept, the idea to branch out, was all him. I think I’ll give him a call and tell him he can be your point person on getting up and going. Rule and I have too much other stuff to deal with right now.”

  It was there in those fabulous eyes, the same kind of compassion and need for the people around him to be happy that glowed out of his father’s eyes. He was Phil’s son—no doubt about it. I laughed and turned back to the desk so I could help Cora manage the still-growing crowd of potential clients.

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  IT WASN’T UNTIL HOURS and hours later that I finally got to my brownie. It had been a packed day for appointments, and there were two late walk-ins that a couple of the new artists agreed to stick around and do, so it was almost nine at night by the time I got around to doing the cash-out for the day and locking everything up. Even on a busy day here it didn’t come close to the chaos I was used to at the shop in the casino. That place had almost fifteen artists on staff and was open until two in the morning. The shops in Denver were successful and busy but they felt way less like a spectacle than my previous job had. I was surprised how much I liked the closer-knit, more mell
ow feel of my new gig and I appreciated that they were really cranking out amazing works of art versus cookie-cutter, flash tattoos that tourists picked off a wall.

  I was the type of person that got bored and hated routine. I think that was one of the reasons I was always on the move so much. I never wanted to be predictable. I never wanted to know what was in store for me from one day to the next. I’m sure it had to do with growing up in a house where routine was everything, where not one second passed that wasn’t accounted for and planned down to the minute detail. My dad lived and died by rules and regulations, so it made sense that as soon as I was able I decided to never have a plan. I was always content to just land wherever the wind took me—only now that had changed. I felt grounded here. Felt like I could wake up to the mountains, fresh air, and crazy weather for an endless number of days and never get tired of it.

  I also knew without question that I could stare into Rowdy St. James’s cerulean eyes for an eternity and never see anything prettier—even when he was looking at me like I was something toxic and dangerous.

  I was munching on the brownie and called Poppy again, this time leaving a message where I chewed her out and threatened to get on the next plane out of Denver if she didn’t call me back tomorrow. I was putting the cash from the day’s deposit in the safe that was in Cora’s office and making sure all the doors were locked upstairs when I caught sight of myself in one of the crazy fun-house mirrors the contractor had put up here to tie the boardwalk theme of the shop together.

  It was the mirror that stretched me out and made me look like a giraffe. It also reflected that I had thick black smudges of eyeliner under each eye and that my normally sleek and styled hair was a frizzy mess from the rain. I couldn’t believe I had worked the entire last part of the day looking so rumpled and messy. I shook my head at the silly reflection and went to turn the lights off when I heard footsteps on the floor below me.

  The only people with keys to either shop were the guys and Cora, so I just assumed it was one of them and waited to see if the footsteps were going to hit the stairs. They did, and when I heard the distinctive click that could only belong to a pair of well-worn cowboy boots, I felt my heart start to pick up speed.

  Rowdy’s slicked-up hair cleared the top landing and his bright gaze landed on me. He didn’t smile or grin. He didn’t quip one of his fast responses at me; he just stared at me steadily as he closed the space between us until he was standing in front of me. He towered over me and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. Flirty-fun Rowdy seemed reserved for any female that wasn’t me and I didn’t know if I liked that or if it annoyed me just yet.

  “Hey.”

  His eyes flared hot at the center and I saw the corners of his mouth tense in a frown as he continued to just stare at me without speaking.

  It took a solid five minutes before he decided to open his mouth. “Nash called me and told me to swing by and see if you were still here. He wants me to talk to you about the store.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him and took a step back. When I did so he took a minute to breathe the space in and run his thumb along the edge of one of his ruthlessly trimmed sideburns. His eyes also swept over me and landed back on my face with his frown still in place.

  “Why are you such a mess?”

  I snorted and flipped my tangled hair over my shoulder. “I got caught in the rain on my lunch break and almost ran some poor woman over in my haste to get back to work. I can’t believe no one told me I looked like a drowned rat all day.” I rolled my eyes and went to move another step or two back from him but he caught my wrist in his hand and tugged me closer.

  My lungs stopped working and my heart fell out of my chest and landed at his feet when he took his free hand and ran his thumb along the delicate curve below one of my eyes where all my eyeliner had retreated to.

  “This actually looks familiar. I remember the first time you snuck makeup from one of your girlfriends at school and couldn’t get it off.” He repeated the process on the other eye and I had to suck in a breath out of desperation because his face was starting to get blurry from lack of oxygen to my brain. “You didn’t know the stuff was waterproof and spent an hour trying to scrub it off with the hose in the backyard because you knew your dad would lose his shit if he caught you with it on. You just ended up looking like a soggy raccoon.”

  I remembered the incident just as clearly as he seemed to, only I was having a hard time thinking straight because his thumb was now dancing across the high arch of my cheekbone and skipped even lower to glance across the ruby I wore right above my lip.

  “You ran home and asked Maria what to do. She sent you back with olive oil and saved the day.” I gave him a lopsided grin. “It wasn’t too long after that that I started wearing as much makeup as I could cake on my face just to get under his skin. Some habits stuck with me, I guess.”

  I saw his chest shudder as he took a deep breath and something dark moved across his sky-blue eyes. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else then changed his mind and snapped it closed. He dropped my wrist like it was on fire and took a step back from me. I didn’t bother to try and hide the disappointment that his retreat caused.

  “So talk to me about the store.”

  I sighed a little, but if he wanted to talk business I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least he was carrying on a conversation with me.

  I ran over the basic ideas I had given Nash earlier. I told him that I really thought their clients would love the opportunity to represent not only the shop but their favorite artists and I was happy that he seemed to agree. He told me his idea about offering prints and graphic pieces of art to sell as well as apparel and I had to admit I was impressed with his entrepreneurial mind. He had always been a lot more than a pretty face and a jock. I was happy to see he hadn’t lost that as he had grown into adulthood.

  We tossed ideas back and forth for twenty minutes or so and I told him he was in charge of wrangling Rule and Nash because he knew them better than I did in order to get them to give me designs I could use. He readily agreed and then we fell into an awkward silence as it was obviously time to go. He told me he would have something for me by the end of the following week and I nodded in agreement. We turned in different directions, him toward the stairs and me back toward the light switch on the wall, when he suddenly said my name in a very strangled tone.

  “Salem . . .”

  I looked at him over my shoulder and lifted a brow at the intent look on his handsome face.

  “Yeah?”

  His boots clattered on the wooden floor as he stalked toward me. His mouth was in a tight line and his eyes were bleeding blue fire at me.

  “What is that?”

  He walked right up to me. He didn’t stop until his chest was almost pressed into my back. For someone who had actively avoided me for weeks and weeks and didn’t seem thrilled to have to share the same space as me, he sure didn’t have any kind of problem at all putting his hands on me.

  He collected my heavy fall of two-tone hair in his hands and pulled it all up and off the bare expanse of my shoulders and neck.

  From one shoulder to the other I had a field of Texas bluebonnets and in between all the flowers were tiny little sparrows. It was a big tattoo, bright and pretty, that took up a lot of real estate on my skin and in my heart. The flowers and birds were so lifelike it looked like a photograph not a painting made of flesh and ink. It was the first tattoo I had ever had done and it had withstood the test of time pretty well over the years. Normally it was hidden by my hair or whatever I was wearing for the day, but with this shirt, the entire thing was on display and it was no wonder he was looking at the ink like it was going to jump off my skin and wrap him in memories.

  “I got it done as soon as I left Loveless.” My voice was a little shaky even though I meant to sound defiant. The flowers were the exact same color as the heartbreak in his blue eyes that day I left.

  “I drew that for y
ou.” He sounded mad. He sounded hurt. I couldn’t blame him for either.

  “I know you did, Rowdy. I might have had to leave Texas, but it was never my intention to make you think I was leaving you and Poppy as well.”

  His finger traced along the field of flowers and he said more to himself than to me, “You never thought it was weird I liked to draw. Everyone else always told me to focus on football. Everyone said I was going to go pro, so I shouldn’t waste my time with studying or messing around with art. You always told me to do what I wanted. You were the only one that ever said it was okay that I was really good at more than one thing. I drew this picture for you for your birthday when you turned sixteen.”

  I was going to jump out of my skin and then I was going to jump him if he didn’t stop stroking me like that. I let out a shuddering breath.

  “It was beautiful. The gesture and the picture. You always were extremely talented and I thought your art should be on display. I never forgot you, Rowdy. I always took you with me wherever I ended up.”

  He said my name again, only this time he sounded confused and lost. I gasped a little as his hands suddenly gripped my shoulders and he spun me around. Before my mind could catch up to what was going on, he was backing me up toward that fun-house mirror. When my bare shoulders hit the chilly glass I gasped, which worked out perfectly for him because he suddenly dropped his head and clamped his mouth over mine.

  My brain might not have known what to do with his sudden switch in demeanor toward me but my body had no trouble responding. My back arched. My arms reached up to twine around his neck. My nipples got hard and my mouth did its very best to seal itself to his forever. My tongue twisted around his and I whimpered as his hands slipped around my waist to pull me up higher on the toes of my heels in order to match his impressive height. Thank God I typically wore ridiculous shoes, or getting all the good stuff lined up would have been impossible.

  It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t a delicate kiss. I could taste the past and his resentment in it. I could feel that he was chasing down ghosts as his teeth nipped a little harder than they should have along the plush curve of my bottom lip. None of that mattered, though, because this was Rowdy and to me he felt like everything that had ever been good or made me happy in this whole entire world.