by TC Matson
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so I saw no point.”
Lucia studies me before she opens her mouth. “You got her into some hot water. The asshole had the nerve to show up at our place the next day and accuse her of cheating added with some flavorful name-calling.”
“Yeah?” It warrants a quick glance to me as he wipes the area. “You tell him to fuck off?”
Lucia’s laugh saturates the little area. “Kenlyn would never say something like that. The girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
See? I’m not the only one who knows this.
“Just because I’m not mean doesn’t mean I can’t fend for myself.”
Truth is, hostility scares me. Physical fights are petrifying. I absolutely hate how discomforting a confrontation makes me feel, but if it’s called for, I face it head on. Normally politely.
“I told you he would accuse me of cheating,” I add.
“With substandard men,” Lucia tacks on with an eye roll and a titter. “It’s his go-to. Blames everyone else in order to take the heat off him. Like the time you found those texts. You shouldn’t have looked at his phone when it went off. Unbelievable.”
“Regardless, I’m not a cheater and hate being labeled as one.”
Ash’s gaze meets mine. “He say who the chick was?”
“A client.”
He blows a chuckle, shaking his head as he goes back to tattooing. Thankfully, the topic is dropped and I’m out of the hot seat of shame, allowing me to keep my wounded pride tucked away and sparing my self-esteem. I may not have loved Jason, but I did care for him although it wasn’t good enough for him to try and be faithful. I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d leave. They always do.
Ash finishes the tattoo and goes over the after-care instructions as he bandages it up. My legs itch to run the hell out of here, far away from the man I can’t shake from my memory and shouldn’t want. He’d use me and leave my heart out to dry. It’s all in the vibe he gives off and I want nothing to do with that, no matter what my body says.
As Lucia pays, I put as much distance between him and me and scan over the awful doodle tats again.
“Let me take you to lunch.” My heart sinks when I hear him ask Lucia. He’s definitely more her type, and even though I wouldn’t take him up on a date, knowing he kissed me but didn’t ask me? It’s just another laceration to my self-esteem.
“Kenlyn.” Lucia gets my attention and I spin around to two sets of eyes.
Ash looks to me expectantly.
Oh…
“Oh. Um. We… We already have plans.” I scramble.
Either Lucia doesn’t take the hint or she’s blatantly ignoring the hell out of it. “You can join us if you’d like.”
Remind me to tell her she’s become a horribly shitty best friend.
Ash stares at me. A sexy smirk plays on his too perfect lips. It makes me want to do stupid things like agree to a lunch date. He’s hot—like make a smart girl promptly stupid hot—and it shoots off red flares into a star-filled night sky. With looks and confidence like that, he’s probably got a line of women throwing themselves at his feet begging to suck him off and he knows it.
Taking the reins by a strong hold, I straighten my back. “Maybe another time.”
I stop breathing as he rounds the corner approaching me. He’s so close I can smell him, but far enough I can’t feel the heat of his body. “It’ll be my apology for something I’m sure I’m supposed to feel sorry about but don’t.”
The arrogance in his tone only solidifies my thoughts—he knows he’s sexy.
I choke on a laugh. “Wow.”
He inches closer, bending to put his mouth closer to my ear. Tingles tickle along my back, my body wanting to feel his hands again even if it’s a damn handshake. “All I’m asking for is a meal, Kenlyn.”
The way my name sounds from his mouth washes over me like hot, melted chocolate. Not only does he know he’s sexy, he uses it as a superpower.
“I, uh. I’m…” I clear my throat. See? Smart girl is stumbling over herself to fight off the intensity of his sexy hot powers. “Some other time.” I manage.
His gaze pierces me. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“Okay.” I’m breathless and hating I’m affected.
I’m saved by Lucia as she hooks her arm through mine and pulls me out of the exit. “When you said gorgeous stranger, you failed to mention he was drop dead, magnificently stunning.” She sighs, leaning into me as we stroll down the sidewalk. “I’ve never been the jealous type, but right now I resent the hell out of you. He kissed you? What I’d do to get his mouth on mine.”
“I’m sure you’ll need to take a number and get in line.”
“Seems you’ve got the next number.”
I arch a brow. “With replacements behind me. I’m not his type and we both know it. He deserves b—”
“Shut up,” her voice raises an octave as she interrupts me. “You don’t know his type and there’s no way he can get any better than you.”
My best friend, while sometime strangle-able, is fiercely loyal.
Chapter Four
Maybe I’m finally losing my mind and leaping off the proverbial ledge my therapist warned me about all those years ago. Supposedly, suppressing my emotions can result in a dramatic consequence or some shit like that. This could be a possibility since I’m standing in front of the building I followed Kenlyn to the day she caught her boyfriend cheating on her, wanting to see her. Again.
This is completely out of my character. I don’t pursue.
There’s no need when women are at my fingertips.
Little did I know that kiss would cause more problems than I could anticipate. All I wanted to do was give that guy a taste of his own medicine. Let him witness his girlfriend being kissed by someone else. Instead, I’m plagued with a constant rerun of the moment my world quaked and was knocked off its axis. I’m haunted by pale amber eyes, light caramel brown hair, high cheek bones, and full lips with a cupid’s bow.
For the first time in my existence, my breath was stolen by a kiss.
When she walked away without giving me her name or number, I figured I’d shove the memory somewhere in the creases of my mind and forget about her. I was wrong. She’s implanted her fine ass into my thoughts and just when I believed I was getting them under control, there she was standing in front of me looking every bit of affected as I was.
And then she turned me down.
I’m not a man who takes rejection lightly, especially seeing and knowing she wants me just as much as I want her. Her body says the words her mouth doesn’t.
When I woke up at the ass crack of dawn after four hours of sleep, I had no clue what time she went to work or if this is even her place of employment, but I needed to try.
My watch says it’s ten minutes to nine, meaning I’ve stood here for two hours. I’m living off high hopes and dreams that I’m right although my optimism is vanishing the longer time ticks on. Maybe this is where her friend or family works?
Suddenly, the universe throws me a bone. My pulse spikes. She and Lucia walk side by side toward me with their attention on each other. Her ponytail sits high on the back of her head, swaying with her steps as strands spring down and frame her face. She’s laughing with eyes that sparkle until the moment they land on me. Then all of it diminishes—her laugh, the smile, the sparkle.
“Hey.” I approach her.
She shoots a baffled glance to Lucia before her face screws up, her brows drawing together. “How’d you know where I work?”
I can’t fight the smirk her question unleashes. “I followed you.”
“You followed me?”
“Yeah. The day we met. I followed you to make sure you got where you were going safely,” I explain.
The anger on her face eases…but only slightly.
“I came to claim the lunch you owe me.”
Her mouth parts. Her eyes narrowing as her head tilts. “I’
m busy today.”
“Then dinner?”
“I’m not interested.”
“You’re hard on the ego,” I chuckle and then try a different angle. “Am I too substandard for you?”
She physically flinches. “I never said that.”
I arch a brow, challenging her words. She may have not said it, but the rejection opposite of what her body says tells me something differently.
Exasperation rides out with her sigh. “I just got out of a six-month relationship. I’m not—”
“Yeah, but you said you didn’t love him.” Lucia comes to bat for me. “It’s not like you have anything to get over.”
If looks killed, Kenlyn just threw Lucia off the Brooklyn Bridge with her hands bound behind her back and cinder blocks tied to each leg.
“I didn’t ask you to marry me. I’m only asking to share a meal,” I add.
Something flickers across her face before she steels it away. Apprehension fills her gaze and she plasters on a fake smile. “Thanks. But I have things to do.”
She rushes past me and enters the building, leaving me staring at her backside and forcing me to forfeit my argument.
Lucia shoots me an apologetic look. “I tried.” She shrugs and then disappears behind the same door Kenlyn did.
Well, if this isn’t new and a fresh breath of air…
With nothing but time on my hands until I need to be at the shop, I do something I haven’t done in a while—take a run through Central Park. This place used to be my salvation, somewhere I could clear my mind. And today, Kenlyn takes center stage. I want her, there’s no denying it. I know she felt everything I did in that kiss. It was evident in her eyes. My body reacted with shit I’ve never dealt with and I can’t shake the tightness in my chest.
My therapist is probably sitting in his leather chair smiling like a Cheshire cat mouthing “I told you” over and over.
My feet pound the paved walkway as I top a small hill that overlooks a meadow of green grass. Even in the morning hours, people flock here. Some working, some exercising, some doing the same as me and clearing their minds. Two women sit on a park bench with a man standing in front of them. He says something that makes them laugh and he does the universal “Call Me” sign and strides off.
An idea forms and my grin explodes. Sometimes genius ideas strike when I least expect it. This may blow up in my face, but it’s worth a try. Now I just need to be patient—a word that’s not particularly in my vocabulary.
Wednesdays at the shop are my short days. They’re normally uneventful, filled with mostly walk-ins unless I’ve scheduled long sessions. Which today, I have. This is Mark’s second session on his intricate geometric chest tat with a shit ton of fill-in work. I’ve been working on him for over an hour. He’s a pro at getting tats, therefore I’m able to work longer on him at a time.
“You got another one,” Del singsongs leaning on the railing.
Lifting my head as I wipe off the extra ink on his chest, I check out what she means. She’s blonde wearing too skimpy of clothes and too much makeup with a seductive but wishful glint in her eyes. The perfect concoction of desperate, these types of women pop in often and it’s off-putting. I’ve repeated multiple times that I don’t sleep with clients, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to change my mind.
“Make something up,” I sigh, ducking my head back down and getting back to work.
Del steps away only to reappear a few moments later. “You turn down every hot piece that walks in wanting your hands on them. What’s your type, Ash?”
I blow out a laugh and grin up to her. “You flirting with me, Del?”
Her laugh is raspy as her grin takes over her face. “You wish.”
“Your husband would murder me.”
“If you think you can handle her, you go right ahead and try, boy toy.” Tig shouts from somewhere in the shop. “Then afterward I’ll murder you.”
He knows I’d never betray him and touch her. They’ve been married for years and are still madly in love with one another. Besides, she’d cut my balls off before he could get his hands around my neck. But I wouldn’t try it. They’re like family.
Several years ago, I was trying to get my life back on course. I was destructive and it was imperative that I straighten up before I ruined everything. I asked for a job and with a nod, a smile, and a handshake, Tig hired me. I came in with hopes and Tig made them a reality.
Since then, I’ve gotten my shit together. I was made a shop manager although there’s not much I have to manage. Tig and Del own the joint and Fay is a part time piercer. But the job title? It gave me a sense of purpose and it’s as if Tig knew I needed it. I owe him my life—literally.
“I don’t have a type,” I answer. “Whatever catches my attention, but it sure as hell won’t be from a thirsty chick whose aim is to brag she’s the one who changed my ways only to turn into a class-A clinger. They know the drill. I don’t screw the clients.” It keeps me out of shitty situations.
Del’s laugh echoes off the cement walls. “You’re a heart breaker. Hot, mysterious, broody, and tatted up. A woman’s wet dream and no one can get close. One day you’re going to fall on your face. Mark my words, boy toy.” She slaps the railing and heads back to the front.
I shake my head and peer up to Mark. He’s hiding a smile, pretending he hasn’t heard anything, but I know he has. Usually I can hear the music from the earbuds in his ears and he keeps his head back, eyes closed while I work. This time though, he’s watching me.
I quirk a brow and he chuckles, giving his head a slight shake before resuming his normal position.
Thirty minutes later, I finish the section, bandage him up, and recite the after-care instructions as he follows me to the front. Del usually handles the money transactions, but I need the computer to execute my plan. Mark pays and leaves. Quickly, I search for her name and scribble her number on a piece of paper before clicking the X and running straight into a narrowed-eyed but grinning Del.
“What’s your plan with that?” She points to the paper I shove into my pocket.
“Call and check on her tattoo.” It’s a half-lie.
Del’s pierced brow shoots high. “I do that once a week. Are my concerns for our customers not meeting your expectations?”
“That’s not it.”
“Is it her or her virgin-skinned friend you’re breaking the rules over?”
She has the right to fire me on the spot for misuse of private information. I’ve been busted and a lie will only insult her. So I go with the truth. “Her friend.”
“Ah. So he does have a type.” She spins on her boots and walks away.
The thunder between my legs and the wind pounding against my chest give me time to figure out what the hell I want to say. I take the back roads to avoid the traffic hell on main street, which takes an additional fifteen minutes, but on a motorcycle, who the hell cares.
I pull up to the curb in front of the three-story, tan and battered brick building and kill the engine. I take off my helmet and grab my cell phone and the piece of paper that’s been burning a hole in my pocket.
Time to get the ball rolling.
“Hello?”
“Lucia. It’s Ash from Tig’s. I wanted to check on your ink and make sure everything is good.”
“Hang on for a second.” There are a few muffled voices and then quietness that gives way to the sound of heels clicking and a door shutting. “Sorry about that.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. Not at all.”
“I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to check to see if everything was good and if you had any questions.”
Her soft laugh fills my ear. “My half-sleeve didn’t give it away that I’m not a tattoo virgin?”
I chuckle. “I know, but it’s my ink I’m trying to protect.”
“Uh-huh. And nothing to do with Kenlyn?”
I smile. Busted.
“For the record, I think you kissing he
r in front of Jason was a genius move. She was miserable with him,” she adds.
“Then why would she stay with him, especially if she didn’t love him.”
“Just because she didn’t love him doesn’t mean she didn’t care. She’s tightly guarded and…” She pauses for several long seconds. “Once you get past her walls, she has a heart the size of Texas. She’s a serial do-gooder.”
“I’m trying to get past her walls,” I admit. “She’s severely aloof.”
“She’s got a story that’s not mine to tell.”
Don’t we all.
“Anyway, I doubt I’ll get her to come back to the shop now, but,” she sings, “since I have your number now, maybe you’ll just start showing up.”
Ball officially rolling. My grin explodes. “I like the way you think.”
“Ash.” The playfulness drops and turns deadly serious. “She’s a good girl. If you’re out to hurt her, I swear I’ll castrate you and staple them to your forehead.”
“I’ll be upfront and honest with her.”
“She doesn’t do casual.”
Shit. I don’t do serious. Can’t. Everything I touch, I lose.
“I’ve known Kenlyn for years. She’s been through some tough things and it eats away at her, causing her to lose parts of herself little by little. The day you kissed her lit something up. She smiled and laughed her ass off, unguarded. She doesn’t take risks, but I do.”
“As do I,” I say. Maybe I can persuade her into casual?
Zandrea steps out from behind the large black wooden doors, eyeing me.
“Listen. I’ve got to go. I’ll hear from you?”
“As long as you promise not to hurt her.”
There are two types of women. One you can be upfront with and they understand. The other you can be upfront with and they don’t understand, pushing for more. I never know until it’s too late, and then I end up having to hurt feelings in the flee, but I don’t purposefully set out to hurt anyone.
“You’ve got my word.”
Let’s hope Kenlyn is the understanding type.
