Forever With You (Misfit Tattoo Book 1)

by Jennifer Labelle

  Okay, what the fuck? I’m missing something here.

  Hottie Harlow chuckled, and it went straight to his cock.

  “Guilty.” She bit her lip. “It’s nice to meet you, uh…”

  “Name’s Diamond Rae, but I prefer Dee, and might I say, I totally admire what you do. You’re an inspiration, honey. Have yourself a seat, and I’ll see if I can get Mel to hurry it up.”

  “Um, thank you.” She blushed.

  Dee turned around and ran smack into him. “Oh, hey, Tob.” She winked on her way by. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Toby nodded then leaned against the front counter. “Haven’t seen you around before. Are you a friend of Mel’s?” he asked as if he hadn’t already heard.

  Yep, the face is as hot as the rest.

  The thought tugged at his heart, and he resisted the urge to rub his chest. She was that striking. Heart-shaped face, big, green, doe eyes, a small pert nose, and very luscious lips he could picture himself nibbling on.

  “I guess, yeah,” she answered with a shrug. “Mel’s great. We went out the other night with a mutual friend and made plans to meet up tonight, and here I am.”

  “You getting pierced?” He looked at her chest and imagined tugging on a nip piercing with his mouth and laving it with his tongue for a taste. Toby shifted as the crotch of his pants grew uncomfortably snug.

  Shit!

  “No.” She chuckled, as if the thought might be absurd. “I’m trying to gain enough courage to actually go through with getting a tattoo. It’s been a long time coming, and Mel thought it might be a good idea to come in to check things out here first before heading out.” She looked around. “I thought it would be much busier.”

  Now, that I can help with.

  “It usually is.” Toby chuckled. “My guy Carson’s in with a client, Mel’s with someone right now, and I’m waiting on my next appointment. We’ve been pretty steady, so much so that I’m looking to hire on more artists to meet the demand.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply—what I mean is Mel told me about the wait list, and I clearly know nothing about the tattoo industry.”

  “It’s all good, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “What were you looking to get and where?”

  “A skull with a long vine of flowers going through it to represent life and death intertwined.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like it to be shaded in black and white, but I want color on the floral part to make it stand out. I’m not sure if my description is doing justice to what I have pictured in my head, but I want the branch-like vine to start at the top like a halo. It’ll go through the skull and then drape down my side into a bouquet.” Harlow walked closer to him. She turned to her side and lifted her right arm while her left hand pointed from under her breast right down past her ribs and ended at her hip.

  Toby nodded and knew it was something he could do easily. “The ribs can be a bitch to cover, but I can see it. Picture your tattoo in my head. You know what type of flowers you want?”

  “Yeah, I’d like a mixture. A pink carnation to start with. It’s the traditional death flower, but I think they’re pretty. Then maybe a lily, an orchid, a rose or two, stuff like that. Definitely need the lily to stand out. That’s important. You know, pretty.” She made cute little hand gestures while she spoke, and it left him smiling.

  “You’re going big.”

  Obviously, dumb ass. Way to state the obvious.

  “It’ll have to be big to cover the scars.” Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her lips as if she didn’t mean to say that part out loud yet.

  “Scars?”

  “From an accident.” Harlow sighed. “Car accident a few years back. Got cut up pretty badly, and, well…” She shrugged and kept it vague on purpose. “The scars are the worst on my side here.”

  “I get it.” He nodded.

  Scars?

  Hell, he had a few of those, thanks to some of the burns he’d sustained when the old place had burned down. Toby suppressed the shudder that usually came after thinking about the fire and continued. “Can I see what we might be dealing with here?”

  “You want me to lift my shirt?” She stared at him, incredulous. “Right this minute? Seriously?”

  “Well, yeah, there’s nobody around, and I promise to keep you covered.” He smirked and walked around the counter to the waiting area to take a closer look. “Certain scars can be hard to cover up. Wouldn’t you like to know if it can be done or not?”

  “I guess so.” She eyed him suspiciously. “What exactly are your credentials? For all I know, you could be some random guy who walked into this place. I don’t even know your name.”

  “Good one.” He chuckled and held out his hand for her. “Toby James at your service. I’ve been tattooing for over a decade, and I also own this place, but thanks for the laugh.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened when he reached over the counter to hand her his business card, and she smiled. “Foot meet mouth. I’m Harlow Ross. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded to her and swallowed hard. “Come on back for a sec. It’ll give you more privacy. Mel will be a few more minutes, anyway.” Toby led her past the counter, into his new office space, and shut the door. “You know it’s not every day I meet someone who doesn’t already know who I am.”

  “I’m sorry?” Harlow looked adorably confused.

  “The show and Ash made me and the shop somewhat of a celebrity around here. You never watched?”

  “Guilty.” She blushed. “I’ve been busy with my career the last couple of years, and I don’t really watch much television. I’d rather read.” Harlow cleared her throat. “Now about the tattoo…”

  “Right. By all means, be my guest.” They were back there so he could see the scar tissue he’d be covering up, after all. He’d already decided it’d be him that’d be touching her skin, marking her with his art, for her very first time. He’d make the time to pop this woman’s tattoo cherry any day. Toby smirked as she lifted the side of her shirt for him. He really did need to check out the area to see how bad the skin was. He also needed to see how the tatt she wanted would fit with the shape of her body, if she went through with it. It also didn’t hurt that she was somebody he wouldn’t mind getting naked with, either. It gave him the opportunity to see more skin. There was something about her that intrigued him more than his usual one- or two-night distractions had.

  Get your head out of your ass, dipshit. She’s a potential client, and you might want a few rounds with her in the sheets, nothing more. Fucking concentrate!

  “Well?” Her questioning look and raised eyebrow brought him out of his own thoughts as he studied the area in question.

  Her skin looked smooth and incredibly soft, except for the damaged skin tissue that began from the side of her breast and ran down the length of ribs. A thin line of white slightly puckered out from her undamaged areas. Then it broke apart, curved toward her flat stomach, and she had three smaller-looking scars from belly to hip. Although smaller in diameter, the lower ones looked rougher, as if they’d had a much harder time healing. Without thinking about it, he traced them with his fingers, and it felt like a spark ignited. An electric current passed between them, and while Harlow gasped, he gritted his teeth to keep from growling. Whatever remained of his blood left the top part of him and headed south, just when he thought he couldn’t possibly get any harder for her. He needed to get laid again, obviously.

  Toby quickly stepped away and took a deep breath. “Good news is I think this is completely doable. I can spread out the flower part on the bottom to cover what you want, but they’ll still be there. You get me? Cover-ups can be tricky, and the scars will be camouflaged but…”

  “I get it.” She held up her hands, and her shirt fell back into place. “And thank you. I’m just trying to make something horrible into something a little less ugly. They’re a part of me now, a reminder to never forget.”

  He watched her look away, and he almost groaned as soon as
he heard the voices down the hall coming closer. His time with her seemed to be coming to an end, for now. Dee was coming back with Carson and his client following close behind. He could hear them walk past. He quickly grabbed a piece of paper and asked if he could trace the area and mark an X along the length and the scarred parts for the sketch. When she agreed, he did so quickly and stepped back again. “This way, it’ll be easier to make the design to cover up the right spots.” Toby opened the door and walked with her back to the lobby a minute or two later.

  “I appreciate it. Thanks, again.” Harlow extended her hand, but instead of taking it to shake, he decided to place a kiss on it. He winked, and she turned a pretty shade of red. A minute later, his six-thirty walked in, and the usual chaos began. He just hoped she didn’t chicken out and they would have an opportunity to meet again. “It’s been a pleasure, Harlow. I’ll see you around.”

  “Sure.” She graced him with a smile as he walked away. Toby could hear Carson giving the normal aftercare instruction spiel to his latest canvas and shook his head with amusement as he heard him spot Mel’s new friend at the reception desk. He listened vaguely to his friend’s lame-ass pickup line before entering his private workspace.

  “Damn, I hope you know CPR, because baby, you’ve taken my breath away…”

  “Carson Emery Tyler! You leave her alone,” Mel barked on her way toward the front, and his appointment started on a good foot with a hearty laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much. The sound of brother and sister bantering, the phone ringing, a hot girl, and someone sitting in his chair waiting for ink. It was his life, and he counted every blessing he had before the darkness took hold again.

  Chapter Five

  ~Idiosyncratic (i.e., idiosyncrasy): Is an individualizing characteristic or quality often used to express eccentricity in a person or situation.~

  Harlow

  “I know this is a little unorthodox, but I was wondering if you could take a look at this for me.” They’d arrived at Fanny’s and were waiting for Calista when Melody slid a folded piece of paper across the table.

  “What’s this?” She looked toward her new friend with curiosity and opened it up.

  “I meant to send that through the appropriate channels at the magazine for you to reply, but I figured, since you’re already here, I’d just hand it to you in person.”

  “Oh?” Now she was curious. Helping people was a passion, the reason for her psychology degree. Since the accident, she’d traded in her cushy office and scheduled hourly appointments for the ability to work from home with flexible hours. She still helped people, but now she did it through her Harlow Helps advice column at the magazine. It wasn’t glamorous, but she enjoyed herself. It paid the bills and made her quite popular with the female demographic from the ages of twenty through to fifty. “Mind if I take a quick look while we wait?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Dear Harlow:

  I have this friend who’s more like family, really, and I’m worried about him. We’ll call him Mr. Idiosyncratic.

  A couple years ago, tragedy struck, and it hit us all pretty hard, especially him, when he lost the love of his life and his life’s work in the same moment. For a while there, none of us were even sure he’d pull through it.

  There was a horrible fire on the night he proposed to his girlfriend, and I fear he still blames himself for surviving when he couldn’t save her. He was burned badly on his lower legs, suffered from smoke inhalation, and it was a long recovery process. Problem is, I think he’s still stuck in the nightmare.

  He’s a shell of the man he once was, and he hides behind this tough guy persona and a parade of meaningless bimbos. He also works himself raw to escape feeling anything too emotionally painful. I realize this is something one doesn’t get over very easily, if ever, but his fiancé would have wanted him to live life to its fullest. To move on, not to dwell on the bad, and instead remember the good times they’d shared. She was amazing like that.

  I guess I just wish there was something more we could all do to help him.

  Do you have any suggestions? I figure you might be able to relate.

  Sincerely,

  Worried About a Brother

  “He’s lucky to have you.” Harlow wiped a stray tear and looked away. She normally didn’t get emotional over her work. She’d learned the hard way to detach herself from it, but there was something in this message that hit close to home. “But why use idiosyncratic?”

  “Because he’s a one of a kind, and I didn’t want to use his real name, for obvious reasons.” She gestured to her letter and back again. “I’ve never talked to a shrink before. I highly doubt he has, either. Let’s face it. He’s a guy.” Melody smirked. “But I’m taking a leap with you because I know you’ve experienced a big heap of grief yourself. It’s not the same thing, but I read what happened to you in the paper, and after…”

  “Please, say no more.” She held up a hand to halt Melody from rehashing her own demons. It was not the time nor the place to go there, and instead, she managed to muster up a smile to pretend the subject didn’t bother her as much as it did. Not that she was fooling anybody. Everyone was a work in progress, right? “Did you want me to add this to the column, or would you prefer to keep this between the two of us? It’s a little heavier than the letters I usually get.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Harlow shrugged. “Not normally, since I started at Twin City, but I can make an exception this time, if you’d like me to. I feel like you’ve gone out of your way for me with the whole tattoo business, and we hardly know each other yet. The offer is the least I can do.”

  “I wrote that fully thinking you’d add it, but if you could, I’d really appreciate the discretion. He’d be pissed if he knew I wrote that.”

  “He must be pretty special for you to care so much.”

  “He’s my brother from another mother.” Mel sighed. “He’s pushed a lot of people away, and there are only a few of us he lets get close. He’d do the same for me, if the roles were reversed. He’s special, but he’s also ridiculously talented, hard-working, and caring, and I know he loves fiercely when he opens himself up. When the right kind of girl comes along once more, she’ll be one lucky chick. I just want to see him happy again. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

  “Absolutely. Nothing at all wrong with that.” Harlow tucked the letter inside her purse. “Let me sleep on it, go over your letter again, and I’ll give you a reply the next time we meet up. By the way, I really liked your tour today, and I’ve decided to brave the temptation. Think you can give me a call sometime tomorrow so we can set up an appointment for that tattoo?”

  “Seriously? Hell, yeah. I’ll check. Toby and Carson are both ridiculously talented. Do you have a preference between the two of ‘em?”

  “I’ll take your word for it and go with whichever one you decide to book. Beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes, and both men seemed completely competent in their abilities.”

  Melody’s drink flew out of her mouth and nose, and her laugh turned into a bout of coughing while she tried to compose herself. “Competent, huh? I’ll be sure to let them know you thought so.”

  “Hey, what’d I miss?” Calista shimmied in her seat and looked between the two of them. “Ooh, that looks good.” She pointed to their drinks. “I want one, too.”

  “Ms. Helps here has decided to get that tattoo after tonight,” Mel exclaimed while pointing toward Harlow, then she stood. “As for my drink, I’ll get you one, too. The next round’s on me. Then we’ll order some food.”

  Callie squealed and squished her with a bear hug. “You’re doing it. Finally! Way to go, Har. You’ll see once you get one. You’ll want another in no time.”

  “Uh, huh, we’ll see.” She smiled and felt elated. Harlow Ross was completing a long-awaited goal in memory of her daughter. It was as if she was opening a new chapter in her life, and it was going to be a good one.

  Chapte
r Six

  Harlow

  Dear Mel:

  Mr. Idiosyncratic has clearly been through a traumatic ordeal. And although I’m glad he survived, I am also truly sorry for the loss you all have suffered, from his injuries to the death of his loving fiancé. I hope you don’t mind, but since this is between the two of us, I’ve decided to be a little more in-depth with my letter to you instead of the shorter responses I usually give in my column.

  Grief varies from one person to another. Sometimes it takes one person longer to go through the grieving process, as we all deal with things differently. It’s a part of what makes us unique as individuals, and it has varying factors, like how close we were to the person we’re mourning…that kind of thing.

  In our bereavement, we often move between stages before achieving a more peaceful acceptance of death, and many of us aren’t afforded the luxury of doing so in a timely manner.

  But remember, this is a very personal process and only a quick glimpse to help you understand and put into context what Mr. Idiosyncratic is probably facing.

  Here are those steps:

  Denial and Isolation: In my case, I used to pretend my daughter was on vacation with her grandparents and would walk through my door with them any minute because it was easier than the harsh reality that my baby was gone and would never be returning. You mentioned hearing about my situation, and this step is a natural reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions.

  Anger: Once the denial begins to fade, reality sets in, and its pain re-emerges fiercely. It’s blindsiding, and we’re vulnerable, so that hurt turns into anger. It may be aimed at ourselves, an inanimate object, strangers, our families, or even the one we lost for leaving us. Rationally speaking, we know it’s not their fault. Emotionally, however, there can be resentment. It’s then followed by guilt for feeling that way, and that makes us angry yet again with ourselves or with the situation itself.