by Nicole James
A few minutes later, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jameson making his way to the exit, the lovely Ms. Kemp on his arm. A deep sadness welled up in Ava, overflowing as her eyes pooled with tears. She quickly made her way to the ladies room and wept in privacy.
Chapter Thirty
Ava showed up at Brothers Ink on Monday morning. She nervously clutched the handles of her handbag as she waited while Max called up to Jameson’s office and asked him to come down without telling him why.
Two minutes later, Jameson stopped short when he walked up front and saw her standing there.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
She’d come to confess her feelings, having had the worst two nights of her life, imagining him with Courtney Kemp. “I thought we could talk.”
“What do we have to talk about? Our deal’s done. You got what you wanted, and I’ll get my parking spots at Wednesday night’s City Council meeting, right?”
When she didn’t answer, so hurt by his tone she was momentarily speechless, he prodded, “Right?”
She nodded. “Of course. Your spots. What else could you be concerned with?”
She turned and stormed out, but not before hearing him call after her, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She didn’t stop, and he didn’t chase after her. What had she expected? Truly, did she think he’d tell her it was all a mistake? That she hadn’t heard Ms. Thompson correctly? That they hadn’t offered him a second season? That it wasn’t to be filmed in L.A.? What they’d had obviously hadn’t meant to him what it had to her. What an idiot she must be.
***
Jameson watched her storm out. He’d blown it. He knew it the moment he opened his stupid goddamned mouth.
“You’re an idiot,” Max confirmed for him.
He twisted and glared at him.
“Think he already realizes that, Bro,” Liam answered Max with a teasing smile at Jameson from where he stood with his arms folded, leaning against the counter.
“Then you’d think he’d stop fucking himself over,” Max added.
“You’d think,” Liam wholeheartedly agreed.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” Jameson snapped and stalked away. He needed to think.
***
Jameson stood at his office window the next night, one hand on the frame, the other holding a rocks glass with a shot of whiskey. He stared out at the street and the people passing by as if he’d find the answers to his problems out there. He knew he wouldn’t. He glanced down at his glass, swirling the ice and Irish whiskey. He wouldn’t find the answer at the bottom of the glass, either.
Everything was off… across the board. He missed Ava. He needed her here. The shop wasn’t the same without her. And the funny thing was, he’d spent the last six weeks trying to run her off, and now that was the last thing he wanted.
He turned at the sound of Max’s footsteps. Great, just what he needed. “I’m in a bad mood; don’t make it worse.”
He chuckled, plopping down in a chair. “What else is new?”
“Cut the bullshit, and tell me what you want.”
“Came to see if you’ve come to your senses yet.”
Jameson turned back to the window and downed what was left of his drink. His senses? If he had any sense, he’d go after her, because one thing he knew for sure, no matter what happened between them, he couldn’t return to the closed-off man he was before.
“Is it pride or fear that’s stopping you?”
Jameson looked out the window. Both, he thought silently. And that was the rub of it. He wasn’t a man to let anything keep him from what he wanted. He never let anything stand in his way. Now, for the first time in his life, he found it was himself that was standing in his own way. And why? Over silly bullshit.
Screw that. He looked over his shoulder at Max. “I’ve got an idea.”
“This should be good,” he answered sarcastically.
Jameson gave him an I hate you look. “If you want to see me make a fool of myself, come with me to the meeting tomorrow night.”
Max grinned, reading his brother like a book. “You couldn’t keep me away.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ava sat at her place on the dais with the other council members. Her eyes ran over the agenda. It all seemed so insignificant. Everything that had once held importance in her life paled now that she knew Jameson would no longer be a part of it. She frowned. How had that happened so quickly? How had he gone from being the bane of her existence to being the meaning of her existence in just six short weeks? The worst part was in knowing she’d no longer even have the chance of catching a glimpse of him around town.
She wondered if his brothers would all go to L.A. with him. She supposed it would be an opportunity for all of them, especially Rory with his music. Hell, L.A. with its music scene, he’d probably never want to come back. What if that were the case with Jameson? Perhaps he’d love the West Coast, too. Maybe they’d close up their shop on Main Street and open up permanently in California.
The gavel pounded down, opening this month’s session and drawing her attention from her dismal thoughts. She reached for her coffee, taking a sip. She hadn’t been sleeping well and felt a deep depression settling over her. With the Gala over, she had little else to focus her attention on. Perhaps it was time for a change for her as well, but what? Pick up her business and move to another city? Start a new business, a new charity, a new hobby? Somehow now none of it seemed interesting or appealing, and she doubted it would fix her broken heart.
The meeting droned on, item by item, until finally they were drawing to the end of the agenda, the time when they would consider any new business the citizenry wanted to bring forward. She heard the doors in the back open, and she looked up. Jameson and his brothers strolled in.
Yes, they wanted their parking spots, of course. And she’d done her part. She’d spoken with all the members before the meeting, and told them how helpful he’d been with the charity. They’d readily agreed, like they probably would have months ago if she hadn’t made such a fuss and turned their vote against him.
Now he stood there, waiting for his final part in their deal. When the session concluded, and they opened the floor up for new business, Jameson approached the podium. “I’d like a moment of the council’s time.”
The presiding councilman leaned toward his microphone. “State your name, please.”
With his eyes on Ava, he answered the man. “Jameson O’Rourke of Brothers Ink.”
“State your business, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“I’d like to propose the designation of the three parking spots in front of Brothers Ink be reserved for motorcycle parking. I believe the council will see that by doing so, we’ll be able to keep one bike from taking up a standard size parking spot, and this way we’ll be able to put three bikes in the same allotted space. Therefore freeing up more spots to cars and, in the long run, being a more efficient use of parking space.”
“Motion to designate the three spaces in front of Brothers Ink on Main Street to motorcycle parking only.”
“I second the motion,” a member at the end said.
“All in favor say, aye.”
“Aye,” resounded throughout the dais.
“All opposed say, nay.”
There was silence.
“The aye’s have it. The motion is carried.” The gavel slammed down.
“One more thing,” Jameson spoke into the microphone.
“Yes, sir?”
“This is for councilwoman Hightower.”
Ava was sure her face looked stricken as Jameson called all of her colleague’s attention to her. She leaned toward her microphone. “Yes, Mr. O’Rourke?”
“I didn’t know you. I judged you without knowing you. I based it all on you turning down those parking spots. I was wrong… about everything. But through it all, you stuck it out. You showed me that backbone, that spirit, that determination that has seen you through some h
ard times in your life, Ava. And I know your greatest fear in this life is failing. But you haven’t failed, Ava. Not once. Not at anything you’ve ever done, despite what you think.
“But you’ve been wrong about a few things, sweetheart. I know you hate hearing that, but I’m going to point them out to you. You were wrong about me taking that job in L.A. You were wrong about what you think I find important. Hell, I’d wager to guess you were even wrong about me and Courtney Kemp.”
A murmur went up in the room.
“Mr. O’Rourke, this is highly unusual,” the presiding councilman said.
“Let him finish, please. I’d like to hear what he has to say,” Ava said into her microphone.
“But most importantly, you were wrong about how I feel about you and what you mean to me. I’m in love with you, Ava. And I’m sticking around. So don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me so easily, sweetheart.”
He approached the dais. He stood before her, his hands in his pockets. “I’m standing here, babe, and I’m not going anywhere. And in case you missed that last part. I’ll say it again. I’m in love with you. So, you got some smartass comment to say to that?
She smiled down at him, her eyes welling with tears and shook her head.
“Then get your ass down here, woman.”
She got up, ran around the bench, and flung herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. He lifted her off her feet as the entire chamber broke out in cheers and applause.
Jameson scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room like Zack Mayo carried Paula out of the paper bag factory in An Officer and a Gentleman.
In the back of the room, she saw Max, Liam, and Rory all standing and cheering, their ear-piercing whistles echoing loudly.
Jameson carried her down the hall and onto the elevator. When the doors slid shut, he set her down, holding her close.
“You sure about this?” she asked, staring up at him with a big grin.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”
She lifted her chin. “I can be kind of a pain in the ass, I’ve been told.”
He grinned. “I’m learning to live with it.”
“Oh, are you?” Her brows rose.
“I’ve been told I’m a stubborn jerk,” he admitted.
The corner of her mouth pulled up. “I’m learning to live with it.”
“Good answer.”
“We gonna make a go of this, Jameson?” she asked, all teasing aside.
He stared down at her with that confidence and determination she’d grown to love and found she couldn’t live without, and he answered her. “You and I, what we feel? It’s fundamental. It’s like hunger, like breathing. I need you. And you need me, too. Fuck, yeah, we’re gonna make a go of it, Ava, and it’s gonna last a lifetime.”
And that was all the assurance she’d ever need.
Epilogue
Ava—
I tilted my head back into the pillow, glancing above the bed at the frame on the wall, mounted dead center above the headboard. Jameson, who lay naked on top of me, nuzzled my neck, his mouth pressing kisses along my skin.
“I can’t believe you framed that,” I said.
He lifted his head and followed my gaze. Then a big grin broke out across his face. “Hey, that’s to remind you what a hot commodity I am. I did go for ten grand, remember?”
I stared up at the Gala flyer that had carried his name and photo, proclaiming him the headlining bachelor. “How could I ever forget?”
He chuckled, and I felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest. “Babe, if it wasn’t for that flyer, would we be here right now?”
I glanced around the room—his bedroom at the farm… correction, our bedroom. He’d moved me in not long after the city council meeting that was still the talk of the town six months later.
“That framed flyer is staying right where it is,” he decreed, then continued kissing his way down my neck and across my chest. “To remind me every day what a lucky man I am.” His mouth trailed lower across my belly—a belly that even now was growing with my little baby bump. “You hear that, little one? Daddy’s a very lucky man.”
I threaded my fingers through his hair. I was happy he thought so, but I knew the truth. I was the lucky one, and I didn’t need anything to remind me of that fact.
Jameson picked that moment to blow a raspberry on my belly. Then he looked up at me grinning.
I giggled. Yep, I was one lucky woman.
Maxwell
Brothers Ink #2
Chapter One
Maxwell bent over the arm of a client, twisting and leaning to get to a difficult area of shoulder. The bell over the front door tinkled, drawing his eyes up for one brief glance. He saw the back of someone in a hooded rain jacket as they turned to close the door. A cool mist blew in as the sound of the pouring rain traveled through the shop.
His eyes flicked to the clock; it was lunchtime, and they’d called their order in to Thai Garden two blocks away. He hoped this was the delivery boy with their food.
His eyes again darted to the entrance and did a double take as the hood of the raincoat was pushed back.
Holy hotness.
She was a petite, Asian beauty with long silky hair and big dark eyes—not too much eye makeup, just thick dark lashes and a bit of liner. Her skin was flawless. She stepped toward the far wall; her eyes up on the framed art, and her body came into view from around the reception counter. The rain slicker hung open in front revealing a slender, boyish frame. Low-slung jeans hugged her hips and exposed a teasing inch of skin between them and her tight top. Nice rack.
Clicking off his machine, his eyes returned to the client in his chair. “Give me just a minute, Ryan.”
“Sure, no problem. I could use a break anyway.”
Max smiled and got up to greet their new customer. He moved to the lobby and around the front of the reception counter, leaning an elbow on it. His eyes swept over the young woman, again falling to that gap between her jeans and top. Her belly was flat and toned, and her skin looked like silk. He hoped she wanted some ink. He’d love to work on her.
His gaze followed hers as she leaned closer, examining the art and photographs of tattoos the shop had done, her eyes moving all over the colors on the wall.
“See anything you like?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he spoke a little louder. “Miss, anything I can help you with?”
Then his eyes dropped to the bag that hung by her side, and the aroma of the best Thai food in town found him. His eyes moved back up to her face. She wasn’t the skinny Asian kid who usually delivered their food. Kiet was his name; they knew him well, as they ordered so often. But in all that time, this girl had never delivered their food.
“How much do we owe you?” he asked. She still didn’t answer, so he stepped closer and repeated it a little louder. “Miss, how much for the food?”
Just then she turned, bumping right into his muscled chest. Her eyes got big as she stared up at him, taking a step back, obviously startled by his proximity. He reached a hand out to steady her, but she flinched back as if she were afraid of him. He was a big man with muscled arms covered in tribal ink, and he knew that could be intimidating, especially to a petite girl like her.
He smiled, hoping to put her at ease and put his hands up. “Sorry. I’m Max. You’re not the usual kid who delivers our food. Kiet. Do you know him?”
She stared at him, but didn’t answer, and Max wondered if she didn’t speak English. She held out the food and pointed to the receipt stapled to the bag. He took it, hoping his smile would reassure her. His eyes moved over her face. Her beauty took his breath away. How had a girl this beautiful been reduced to running food deliveries?
He twisted to set the bag on the counter, checking the receipt for the amount, and then he dug his wallet out. As he thumbed through for the money, he called over his shoulder, “Liam, you got a ten? I’m short.”
When he turned back, he noticed the
girl’s attention had returned to the art on the walls.
“Do you like our art?” he asked.
Liam walked over, handing him a ten, and they both studied the woman as she stared at the wall.
“Maybe she doesn’t speak English,” Liam murmured.
“Damn, right about now, I wish I spoke Thai,” Max whispered back and Liam grinned at him. Max reached for the bag, and his elbow knocked a glass candy bowl to the floor. It shattered with a loud crash.
“Shit,” Max jumped back. As he looked down at the broken glass, he felt an elbow in his ribs and glanced up to find Liam nodding toward the girl. Max’s eyes swung to her and noticed she hadn’t even flinched.
“I think she can’t hear, bro,” Liam whispered.
Max took the ten from Liam, added it to his own, and tapped the girl on the shoulder.
She whirled, startled.
He held the bills out to her, nodding toward them.
Just then, Liam made some gestures with his hands. Max frowned, watching him. “When the hell did you learn sign language?”
“A kid in my high school class was deaf. A lot of us picked it up over the four years.”
The girl looked relieved and gestured back, a big smile breaking across her face. They continued signing back and forth.
“What is she saying?” Max asked.
“Says her name is Malee. Kiet is her brother. He’s sick and couldn’t make the delivery, so her father sent her.”
Liam signed some more, gesturing to the wall. She signed back, a shy smile on her face. “She likes the colors.”
He signed some more. She signed back.
“She likes to draw. The art fascinates her.”
Max watched her closely.
“Can you read lips?” Liam asked her, and she waggled her hand before signing. “Says she tries, but she still has trouble with it.”
Max gestured up to the art on the wall and spoke clearly to her so she could read his lips. “You want a tattoo?”
