Beautifully Scarred

by H. P. Davenport

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lee

  My phone rings as I circle my apartment, trying to locate it. By the time I find it on top of the vanity in the bathroom where I left it when I was in the shower, I missed the call.

  Charles’ name appears on the screen. It’s unusual for him to call me on Sundays, since the shop is closed.

  Dialing his number, he picks up on the second ring. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “No, sir, is everything okay?”

  “Cut the sir shit. How many times do I have to tell you?” His voice is filled with depth and authority.

  “Sorry, force of habit,” I’m sleeping with his daughter, so sir seems like the proper name to call him. Respect is huge to me. I don’t want him thinking I’m taking advantage of my relationship with Mills and overstepping.

  When he spoke again, his voice was almost a murmur. “I have a favor to ask.”

  Unsure what I could do to help him, my shoulders lift as if he could see me. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “I have an early appointment in the morning, and I don’t recall seeing the mockup in my office. I think I may have left it at Novocain when I stopped by to speak with my daughter yesterday.”

  “Okay, so what do you need from me?”

  He clears his throat. “In the top drawer of my desk, there is a set of keys. They’re for Novocain. Do you think you could stop by the shop tonight and grab it for me? Bring it to work with you tomorrow morning. I’m out with the missus celebrating our thirtieth anniversary.”

  “Say no more. I’ll grab the keys then run by the shop and pick it up for you.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, si—“ I stop myself mid-sentence. “Charles.”

  Charles lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re finally catching on, son.”

  With that, he ends the call. I walk into my bedroom in search of a pair of clean pants. My laundry is in the washer, so my selection is limited. Settling on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, I pull a white tee over my head, then slip my feet into a pair of running shoes. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Rather than use the car service app on my phone, I grab my earbuds off the counter and decide to run to the shop. I’ll grab an Uber on the way home once I have his design in hand.

  An hour later, my hands are on my knees as I’m bent over, trying to catch my breath. My lungs burn, and my shirt clings to my sweat-soaked body. The run felt good, my muscles ache.

  The light in the front window is off, yet I notice a light further in the shop is on. I fumble with my keys, searching for the one for Novocain.

  After a few tries, I manage to find the right key, and the lock turns. Pushing the door open, loud music plays through the shop. Did someone leave the radio on? A light glows toward the back of the space. With curious steps, I proceed toward the light. What I find shocks the hell out of me.

  Mills is leaning over, tattooing a man’s back. The piece stops me in my tracks. Even from this vantage point, I can see the detail she’s put into it. She is talented beyond her years. She doesn’t notice me standing here.

  I clear my throat, and Mills snaps her head up so fast, I could have sworn I heard a whip crack. Her eyes widen in shock, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. She clamps her mouth shut, but her jaw goes slack when she sees me.

  I shoot up an eyebrow at her. Earlier, I called and texted, and she never mentioned she would be working at the shop tonight.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks harshly, looking between the guy lying on her table and me.

  Not expecting this reaction from her, I’m taken aback. The tone in which she speaks is anger, not surprise.

  Two can play this game. “Why don’t you tell me the same?” I return in the same snarky tone, eyeing the man sprawled out in front of me.

  She pushes her chair back away from her client, her jaw tightening. “How did you get in?”

  Slowly, I lift my set of keys in my hand, giving them a shake for good measure. “I have a key to the place.”

  She pushes herself to a standing position. Mills pulls the black latex gloves off her hands and tosses them in the trash can.

  “Why do you have a key to my shop?”

  “Did you forget I work for your father, who is half owner of this shop as well?”

  “I’ll ask you again. Why do you have a key to this shop?”

  “Your father told me where they were at the shop. I stopped there on my way here.”

  Her chin raises with a cool stare, and she tilts her head in my direction. “Can I have a word with you in the back office?”

  Her eyes land on her client. “Can you give me a few minutes, please? Help yourself to any beverages or snacks in the break room.” She says once she wipes down his tattoo to remove any blood from the surface.

  He slides his legs around the side of the table into a sitting position. “Sure, no problem. Take as long as you need.”

  Mills reaches out and clutches my hand, pulling me toward the back of the shop.

  Once we’re inside the office, she slams the door behind us, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. She motions for me to the chair beside her.

  Restlessly, her hands stroke the arm of the chair. “What are you doing here?” she asks again. Why is she so bothered by me being here?

  “I’ll ask you the same question. The shop is supposed to be closed. Why are you here alone with some guy on your table?”

  “Are you serious?” Her brow arches.

  Does she not realize it’s not safe to be alone in the shop by herself with a client? There should always be someone else in the shop. Even for the male artists. You never want to put yourself in a situation where something could occur, or an accusation could be made.

  She folds her thin, inked arms across her chest, her breasts pushing up toward the v-neck of her shirt. She smiles knowingly at me. “I’m working.”

  “Clearly, I can see that. Let me ask why are you here working? Alone at night?”

  “Don’t give me shit about being here alone. The door was locked. I’m safe.”

  “Safe from the people outside, but what about the guy in here?”

  She places her arm on my forearm. “Don’t. Don’t get all crazy on me. I’m fine. My taser is in the top drawer of my station.”

  The knowledge she has some sort of protection calms my thundering heart rate just a tad.

  My hand slips recklessly to the back of her neck, pulling her close, and I press my lips against hers, gently covering her mouth. Unable to hold back, I take her mouth with a savage intensity. I’ve missed her. It’s been days since I’ve seen her.

  She leans back, meeting my eyes. “Why are you here?”

  The kiss seemed to subdue her anger.

  “Your dad asked me to stop by and grab a design he left here mistakenly yesterday. He needs it for his appointment in the morning.”

  Her mouth dips into a deep frown.

  “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  “My father sent you?” she asks with uncertainty in her voice.

  I nod, confirming. “He’s out celebrating your parents’ wedding anniversary. Asked if I could swing by. I didn’t mind.”

  Her mouth takes an unpleasant twist. “I can’t believe this.” She shakes her head. “Their wedding anniversary?” Her eyebrows shoot up, almost hitting the ceiling. “Of course, my father sent you.”

  Something seems off. Her reaction when I mentioned her parents’ anniversary isn’t one I would expect from Mills. If I had to guess, Charles and Maureen aren’t out celebrating. He sent me here knowing I would find Mills.

  Ignoring her frustration with her dad, I attempt to steer the conversation back to why she is here.

  “Why are you here?” I ask again.

  She stands, walking over to the door, her hand on the handle. “I need to get back to my client.”

  “Mills, why are you being so secretive? It’s only a question.”

 
She lets out a deep exhale and looks up at the ceiling.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t want to talk about it? We’re in a relationship. We’re supposed to talk about things. I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

  “You’re right, you’re not.” She points her finger at herself. “Please trust me on this.”

  “Trust you, I do. But I don’t think you trust me.”

  She walks over, lifting her hands to cup my cheeks. “I trust you.” She stands on her tiptoes, gently leaning in, and kisses my warm lips. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be in my life, let alone in my bed.”

  My hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. Her lips brush mine. Not innocently, but demanding and full of passion and lust. We pull apart and stare deep into each other’s eyes. I can’t breathe when she is around.

  “It’s something I’ve been doing at the shop. No one knows about it besides my parents, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ve been helping some special people on the first Sunday of the month. It’s a way to give back.” Her voice cracks with emotion, and her eyes fall closed.

  “Helping them, how?”

  When she opens her eyes, they swim with tears. “By helping them find the confidence they were robbed of.”

  “You’re talking in tongues, babe. What are you helping them with? Why can’t they come to the shop during the week when it’s open?”

  A tear runs down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away. “The people I’m helping feel more comfortable coming in when it’s not open. No one to stare at them or see their pain.” Her eyes are gentle, understanding.

  “I don’t understand.” My eyes search hers.

  “They have scars they’re covering up. Scars either caused by themselves or others.” She speaks in a tone filled with awe and respect.

  “Babe.” My voice trails off. My hands cup her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know,” she mutters uneasily. Her face flushes, leaving two red spots on her porcelain cheeks.

  “Why?”

  Her body shudders within my arms. Why would she keep this a secret?

  She draws in a shallow breath. She says nothing, just stares at me blankly while chewing the inside of her mouth.

  Alarms go off in my head. This is not the Mills I know. The Mills I’ve developed deep feelings for would be confident in the work she is doing, not hiding it. What pushed her to open the shop on a Sunday when it’s supposed to be closed? Question after question run rampant through my head. There have been moments when I ran my fingertips or hands over her naked body, and I felt raised skin. I never inquired how she got them. She’s a closed book at times, giving me little bits of herself at her own pace. Not wanting to push her, I have no choice but to wait for her to tell me her reason behind doing this.

  I would be honored to work by her side on this project. She should be proud of what she is doing. Mills is helping them renew themselves, to see themselves in a new light.

  I press another kiss to her sweet lips. Grazing my knuckles across her right cheekbone with tenderness, she leans into my touch.

  “Can I help? You could help more if you had two people offering their service.”

  The warmth in her smile echoes in her voice. “I think I’d like that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Juliette

  After spending the night wrapped in Lee’s arms, I left to search for the one person on my shit list before I head into the shop this morning. I can’t believe he sent Lee to the shop knowing I was there.

  I slam the door in my wake—just enough to register my presence. I holler, “Ma, where is he?”

  “We’re in the kitchen, sweetheart,” she replies cheerfully.

  My parents sit around the kitchen table, enjoying breakfast. My eyes narrow when they land on Pops, who sits at the table savoring his morning cup of coffee while he reads the local newspaper.

  He doesn’t look up from the paper as I approach, which infuriates me more. He knew I would show up here on my way to Novocain after the stunt he pulled last night. He blatantly lied to Lee about it being their anniversary. It was just a ploy to get him to go to the shop.

  “How could you?” My voice rises, gaining his attention. Pops closes the paper, setting it to the side. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

  “Juliette, what’s wrong?” Ma asks.

  “He didn’t tell you?” I snap, turning to face my mother who seems utterly confused by the situation unfolding before her. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry with Pops. He forced my hand. He left me exposed to Lee. He put me in a situation where I had to explain myself. There was no way I could skirt around the scene Lee walked in on.

  She grimaces. “Tell me what?”

  Deploying sarcasm, I reply. “Dear old Dad decided to send Lee to the shop last night while I was working.”

  “Don’t take that tone with your mother, Juliette. You’re angry with me, take it out on me.”

  “Take it out on you? Are you for real right now? How could you? You knew how important what I was doing was to me.” Flexing my fingers, I attempt to rein in my anger.

  His face reddens. “How does anything change? Answer me that.”

  “What is she talking about, Charles?” my mom asks, her eyebrows furrowing and then releasing.

  “He sent Lee to the Novocain last night while I was working to pick up a design he needs for his appointment this morning. Apparently, he was too busy celebrating his wedding anniversary with you to get it himself.”

  “Charles.” She frowns.

  “What?” he speaks in a flat voice.

  “Why would you send Lee to the shop?” she asked with a fixed stare.

  Blowing out a noisy breath, his voice hardens. “Jules is doing something great. In my head, I figured if she had someone to help her, she could reach more people. Who better than Lee, the man she’s in a relationship with?”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make. If I wanted Lee involved, I would have asked him. You had no right to send him on a scavenger hunt, which led him to my shop.” I spit the words out through gritted teeth.

  “Our shop,” he barks.

  “Yes, our shop. Let’s discuss this. Why did Lee have your key to our shop?”

  “Will you calm down? He doesn’t have his own key. He took my spare from my office.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Ma’s eyes widen. “Juliette. Watch your mouth. I know you’re upset, but you will not curse at your father.”

  “Sorry, Ma.”

  “Sweetheart,” Pops says.

  Ma lifts her hand, halting him from continuing. “You’ve done enough damage for one day. I’m speaking now.” She turns to face me. “I understand you are upset. You have every right to be. Your father had no business sending Lee to the shop. The people who come to you view Novocain as a safe place. A place where they don’t feel ashamed to have you openly work on their bodies.”

  “Jules—” my dad tries to speak. Ma turns her attention to him, shooting a glare, silencing him. “I agree with Juliette on this. Charles, you overstepped,” she bellows.

  I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks what he did was out of line. I know he meant no harm, but he had no right to force my hand.

  Ma extended her middle finger toward him. “You used our anniversary as an excuse to send Lee to the shop. How could you?”

  He leans forward, his fingers lace before him on the tabletop. “I did it with good intentions.”

  My temper flares. “Good intentions. You ambushed me!” I shoot him a venomous look. “How is that good intention?”

  “Listen to me,” I emphasize each of the last three words. “You know why I opened the shop on a Sunday when no one was there. If I wanted the guys to know about it, I would have asked them to help. If I wanted Lee to help, I would have asked.”

  “But,” he mutters.
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br />   I push back forcefully from the table, and my chair crashes against the floor. “I didn’t include anyone for a reason!” I yell. “Why is that so difficult to comprehend?”

  I can’t even look at my father, I’m so angry at him. I would have told Lee when I was ready.

  When I was ready.

  At my pace.

  He aroused old fears and insecurities. Lee didn’t push when I said I wanted to help those with scars. He never asked the million-dollar question. Why would I take a special interest in those with scars?

  It was a question I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to truly answer without digging up demons I buried a long time ago.

  My mom stands up, following me to the counter. “Charles, you opened a wound for Jules. It was her choice to include other people. Do you realize what you’ve done?” She watched his eyes widen with concern.

  His shoulders slump, and his face sags. He scrubs both hands over his face. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, sweetheart. I thought if Lee knew you were working on Sundays, you could ask him to work with you. It would be a way for him to see you in a different light.”

  “What different light?” I look at my father, disoriented.

  He clears his throat, but his voice is hoarse when he speaks. “So he could see how beautiful you are inside and out. So he could know the Juliette we love.”

  A warm glow flows through me. How could I be mad at him after saying that?

  “You have to let me show Lee pieces of me as I’m ready. He doesn’t know about my past. I’m not in a rush to tell him either.”

  Pops pushes up out of his chair, walks over, and takes me into his arms, hugging me tightly. “Your past won’t change the way he feels about you.”

  “I hope it won’t.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lee

  “I left the mockup on your desk in the back.”