Oliver comes to stand by my head, looking down at me. "No, you're right, but Jaxon and Jacinta are hostile because they've been with Dad the longest. They don't know any better; they were young, and they only have vague memories of their birth mother, and nobody knows about their father. They have a deep-seated fear that you’re going to replace them in his heart. Jacinta’s spent so long as the only princess of the family that she’d be this upset at any other woman who came in, not just you."
I snort my disbelief. "Somehow, I doubt that. Listen, Oliver, I don’t care about any of that at the moment. I’m a big girl, and I’ve dealt with much worse than what your siblings can dish out, but I swear you better not fuck up my tattoo in some act of revenge."
He growls in anger, that last statement getting more of a rise out of him than anything else we’ve said so far. "I wouldn't do that, I promise. It's my reputation on the line." He stomps back to the end of the table and pulls the stencil up. Obviously happy with the positioning, he starts to fill little cups with ink and proceeds to ignore me. That’s fine with me. I pick up my book and open it to where I left off, but Jonah’s voice draws my attention.
"So what is it you do, Harlow, when you’re back home?" I try to answer him, but Oliver butts in.
"She rides horses," he says, his voice filled with scorn, and I frown at his words. Do they seriously not know that I'm a vet? Fuck it. I’m not going to enlighten him. And how dare he judge me.
"My foster family trains horses for movies, and I’ve helped them with that," I hedge slightly.
"That’s cool! Will I have seen any of the movies?" he asks, sounding excited, and I have to think hard about it. Once they leave for a set, I don't tend to pay any attention unless I’m watching an actual movie and recognize one of the horses.
"We had a couple on the Game of Thrones set. Oh, and the new Selena Cross movie that she's filming at the moment has some of ours, and my friend Max is her stunt double."
"Selena Cross is smoking hot." Jonah sighs as he sets up his station.
Oliver snorts. "And a lying, gold-digging whore. She thinks Declan is her ticket to mega-stardom, and he might have been, but she blew it. She made Declan look bad. I'm not sure if I'd want to be in her shoes at the moment. She's supposed to be his date for the premiere tonight. It'll be interesting to see if he brings her or not."
I roll my eyes at his words. I’ve got a feeling that the Summers boys think all women are gold-digging whores. Someone or someone’s really did a number on them. My heart sinks at the thought that he’s bringing such a beautiful date, but then I kick myself. He's been nothing but hostile, and you were making out with his brother not five minutes ago, not to mention you've made out with another brother, and then there's the fact you're attracted to, well, all of his brothers. I close my eyes. Harlow, it may be time to go back to your therapist. It seems you have such a deep-seated need to be wanted that you're latching onto multiple men no matter how horrible they are.
Oliver rolls his chair over to the table, gun in hand. Behind his black-framed glasses, his eyes are focused. "You ready? It's going to take a while. Make sure you let me know if you need a break for the toilet, or if you start to feel light-headed."
I wave my hand at him. "I’m fine, just get started; I don't want to be late tonight and let Brad down." He nods his head once, and the gun starts up.
The droning humming noise is a soothing balm against my battered soul. He starts the tattoo, and like normal, I flinch slightly at the pain, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth. I know it’s coming and how it's going to feel, but the first swipe of the gun is jarring. But within five minutes of him working, I've sunk into the feeling, and the pain just washes over me, nothing more than a slight annoyance. Relaxing back, I pick up my book and read. The door of the shop opens, and a buzzer sounds out as a perky blonde with her own array of tattoos and piercings pops into the cubicle.
"Hi, boss. How’s it going today?" She’s much too cheery and enthusiastic, and Jonah’s groan easily travels across the small space between us.
"God, Beth, not so loud and happy first thing this morning," he complains, still suffering his night’s after-effects. I smile to myself.
The gun stops, and Oliver looks up. "Hey, Beth, how are you? I've canceled all my appointments for this morning. Can you look at the book and reschedule them for me?”
Her eyebrows turn down in a frown, and she looks at me.
"Oh, why?" I can see she’s trying to figure out how I fit into things, but I just pretend to go back to my book, not acknowledging her. She's as bad as Lisa, panting after Oliver like he’s a cool drink of water, and she’s thirsty as hell. Not that I blame her, the man is smoking hot.
"Harlow lost a bet, and now she's paying up." His words are smug, so I put my book down again.
"Ah, I believe we both lost, and you've already paid up," I remind him, and he frowns down at his lap. That’s right, girls; he's marked by me now—a permanent reminder. I'm feeling pretty fucking pleased about that.
“Oh, okay, I’ll get on that. I've got a couple of piercing clients today, but they're not coming in until later."
"Didn't you say you wouldn't mind getting something pierced?" His words are full of laughter like he doesn't think I would go through with it. But then my mind instantly wonders if she pierced him, and I almost growl out loud with jealousy, barely managing to hold it in.
"Yeah, but I think I'll stick to the tattoo for now. I’m already worried that it will get stuck to whatever Nana has for me to wear to the premiere tonight.”
"Oh, that’s right! That's tonight. Do you have a date for it, Oliver?" she asks, fishing for an invite and possible information on who I am.
"Nope. I think we're all going stag tonight except Declan was supposed to be escorting Selena. She makes a guest appearance in the movie, so she needs to be there, but who knows if that’s still happening."
"Oh, no one else is bringing a date?" I ask curiously, and he shakes his head.
"No, I don't think so, but Jaxon has been known to flaunt Nana’s requests, Holden too."
The gun starts up again and cuts off anything that Beth was going to say. Her face falls, covered in disappointment, before she plasters on another smile. "Well, okay, I hope you have fun.”
No more words are exchanged between us. I spend my time reading and watching the goings-on in the shop, unable to throw myself back into my book. Jonah seems to be the only other artist working since Beth seems to be the receptionist and piercer. The shop stays busy with a constant flow of people in and out, making inquiries, appointments, and getting piercings. Jonah has two clients during the time my tattoo has been going on.
After about two hours, Oliver shuts off the gun and places it down; he groans in pain, stretching his whole body and standing up. "Okay, I need a break.”
He tapes some plastic over the tattoo and pulls my dress down for me. “Why don't you go and get a drink and use the bathroom if you need it." He walks in that direction himself, leaving me on my own, and Beth must see it as an opportunity to grill me because as I stand up and stretch myself, she bounds over.
"So, what kind of bet did you lose?" she asks. "And how do you know Oliver?"
"None of your damn business, Beth," Jonah growls from over his client. "Go back up the front and worry about your own shit." She blanches, and then she disappears. Mouthing thank you to Jonah, grateful for his interference, I head toward the bathroom, half-hoping to run into Oliver and half-not.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harlow
The next couple of hours pass quickly with few words spoken between us. A couple of times he had to go and talk to potential clients up the front, but I resisted the urge to peek. Another artist had arrived—shaved head and tattoos over every exposed piece of skin I can see. Large gauges in both ears and a ring through his eyebrow, he has a slightly Middle-Eastern look to him, but no accent when I get introduced.
"Harlow, this is Ramsey." Oliver waves in my d
irection. "This is Harlow." I try to smile, but I'm at that point of the tattoo where my whole skin feels like it's on fire from the shading, and I don't know how friendly it looks.
He comes around to look at Oliver’s work, and his eyes widen with surprise when he sees it. His gaze goes from my tattoo to Oliver, where it lingers for a moment before moving to me. He seems to make some kind of internal decision, and a smile crosses his face, turning him from a fairly intimidating man to super hot. Wow.
"Nice work, man." He slaps Oliver on the back before moving into one of the other cubicles. Oliver raises the gun, wiping over my skin, his gaze giving nothing away.
"All done," he announces, and he dribbles something over it and gives it a thorough wipe so I can look at it in the mirror. "Hop up and have a look." I’m half-excited, half-worried, so I don't think about how quickly I'm moving, and just as my feet hit the ground, all the blood rushes to my head, and I start to tip sideways.
“Whoa!" Oliver grabs for me, holding me tight against him and steadying me. My brain is foggy and unclear, so I just lean against him until I get my bearings. His citrus scent penetrates my senses first, and I breathe it in deeply.
"Are you sniffing me?" He sounds amused, and now that I'm okay again, I pull away quickly, embarrassment imminent.
"No?" My denial sounds like a question. Damn. I may not entirely be back to my senses. He holds my arm as we walk across the cubicle to a full-length mirror, and when I see the tattoo, my mouth drops open in shock.
To my other mythical creatures, he's added a mermaid. But not just any mermaid. This is in fact a merman, with shimmery blue and green scales and a bare torso with rippling stomach muscles and impressive pecs. He even has a piercing through one of his nipples. He's holding a trident, Aquaman style, and his hair is a flowing turquoise blue. My eyes drag up to his face, and it looks familiar somehow. Staring at it, I suddenly realize why and start to giggle. Familiar whiskey brown eyes are sparkling with mischief, but they're missing black-rimmed glasses. He's tattooed me with a merman in the image of himself. I start to laugh uncontrollably and need to lean against the mirror for support. His actual eyes meet mine in the reflection, and they look concerned like he’s worried I don’t like it.
"Oh, Oliver, it’s the best fucking tattoo I've ever had!” Spinning, I throw my arms around his shoulders and give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Our eyes meet and hold, but just as I think he's going to lean in and kiss me, Jonah calls to me.
"Come over here and show me, Harlow. I’m dying to see what he did." Oliver pulls away first and starts cleaning up his station and stripping down the table, so, holding up my dress, I walk over to where Jonah is and show him.
He looks, blinks, and his mouth drops open in shock. "Did he... Is that..?" He seems to be speechless, but all of a sudden, great big booming laughter explodes from his mouth, and he has to step away from his client and put his gun down. He bends over, holding his stomach, and I giggle along with him while his poor client looks bewildered.
"I can’t believe you did that," he calls to Oliver when he gets himself under control. "Looks like you both had similar ideas about putting your marks on the other."
That has my giggling cutting off instantly, and Oliver stops what he's doing.
Our eyes meet as Jonah goes back to his client, and we stare at each other, his eyes are saying so many things to me. There's heat and desire, but also wariness. He breaks the stare as his phone beeps in his pocket. Pulling it out, he looks at the message on it, a deep frown appearing like he’s just received bad news. After a moment, he shakes his head, stuffing it back into his pocket.
“Come over here and let me wrap it.” His voice is flat and impersonal; he sounds like he’s giving me a standard speech now, any warmth we’d gained between us suddenly gone, fast enough to make my head spin. “By the time you get home, you should be able to take it off. Make sure you put some of this on it after you shower before you get dressed." He hands me some cream, and I put it with my phone and book. His hands are soft and gentle against my skin as he places some cling wrap over it and tapes it down, but this just feels like the mark of a good tattoo artist, not someone who’s taking care of me in particular.
"Grab a seat, I won’t be long. Beth!" he calls, and she comes bounding over. I do as he says, confused over his demeanor.
"Oh, you're done! Can I see it?" she asks with an excited look on her face, but I point to the covering.
"He's already covered it, sorry." Her face drops, and she shrugs.
"Oh well. What can I do for you, boss?" Her sparkly shiny self is once again all perky and compliant.
"Can you finish this? Harlow and I need to get moving." He pulls off his gloves and throws them in the trash. He's done some cleanup but has left the rest for her.
She wrinkles her nose at his request, but she pulls on a pair of gloves and gets to it without argument.
"Come on, we need to go." Oliver’s voice is abrupt, and he won’t even look at me. What happened in the last few minutes that made him like this? He starts out of the shop without saying a word to anyone, not returning Jonah’s goodbye. I grab my things and say goodbye to Beth, who just looks at me but doesn't respond. Whatever, bitch.
I say goodbye to Ramsey and wish Jonah good luck with his twins. He shoots me a wink, and I follow quickly after Oliver, grabbing my backpack from the staffroom. By the time I get to the car, he's sitting in it, and it's already running. The throaty purr is sexy in itself, but combined with the man sitting in it, it's deadly.
When we arrive home, I follow him inside, only to have him disappear into their wing without another word. He's left me standing in the foyer, gaping at his back and wondering what happened, and that’s where Nana finds me.
"Oh, good, Harlow, you're back. You just have time to have a shower before the stylist is ready for you."
I blink a couple of times, feeling a little bewildered, but Nana is already dragging me along. "Stylist?" I manage to get out.
"Cecelia organized one to come to the house. Jacinta is already done as she and Jaxon went on ahead. They're unveiling the billboard tonight before we go into the premiere, so they wanted to be there early to make sure the details are finalized. They'll meet us on the red carpet. Cecelia is getting done now, and I'm next while you have a shower and put your dress on; it's hanging in your closet. Then when you're done, we’ll be taking one of the choppers into the city, and from Neighpalm Industries building, we'll go by limo." This information Nana’s throwing at me is almost too much, and combined with Oliver’s sudden cold shoulder, I’m getting pretty overwhelmed.
We get to my room, and she leaves me, telling me not to take too long. In a daze, I walk into my room. Princess is asleep on my bed again, so I just put my backpack next to her and strip off my dress and underwear.
Moving into the bathroom, I turn on the shower, peeling off the plastic wrap from my tattoo before stepping under the water. A cry escapes my mouth, and a shudder wracks my body as I wrap my arms around myself, rocking back and forth. My tears start, joining the flow of water. The gut-wrenching sorrow I feel almost brings me to my knees, and it’s like all the pressure of Diane dying, finding out about Brad, being rejected by my siblings, and now Oliver’s hot and cold act have just added up to be too much. What the hell happened? What did I do wrong? I sit down, curling up my legs, and sob.
My mind is a chaos of thoughts, running things over in my head. What did I do? I thought we had been finally making some inroads to a semi-decent relationship. Hell, I thought the sparks were flying. I thought I might finally have an ally or at least some support in this fucked up situation, but I guess I’m just a fool. I sit there until my tears have run their course, then I rebuild my walls because something tells me I'm going to need them tonight.
Standing up, I quickly wash my body, taking care of my beautiful new tattoo. I was honest when I said it’s the best one I've ever had. Tasha does excellent work, but Oliver’s is exceptional. It looks like he’
s ready to leap out of the water and ravish me. Unfortunately, the new-tattoo high has diminished a bit with my fit of tears, and I try not to focus too hard on the merman’s face.
Washing my hair with the products already in there, I quickly climb out and dry myself off, wrapping a towel around my body and hair. I wander back into my room to find a robe on my bed. Nana must have popped back in, I think, a smile crossing my face, but that quickly slips into a frown. Gosh, I hope she didn't hear me crying.
Ditching the towel around my body, I’ve pulled on the robe and started rubbing at my hair when there is a knock at my door. "Come in!” I call, not looking up, assuming it’s Nana, but when she doesn't say anything, I move the towel. Standing there in an emerald green gown is Brad's PA, Cecelia. She’s got a funny look on her face, and I can't think what she may want.
"Hi. What can I do for you?" I question when she doesn't say anything.
"Don't get too comfortable," she says quietly.
"Excuse me?" I ask, bewildered.
"Being Brad’s escort. Don't get too comfortable with it. It won’t be happening for long. I've almost got a ring on my finger, and don’t you think for a second I'm going to let some trumped-up daughter of a whore come in and steal my place," she hisses, her words scathing and hurtful as her eyes flash with venom.
I can’t help it; my mouth drops open in shock. "Steal your place? Eww, he’s my father." What the fuck has this woman been smoking?
"You may be new and pretty and shiny now, but he always comes back to me. You better watch your back." With that last threat she flounces from the room, and I collapse onto the bed. Looking at Princess, I wave a hand at the door. Is everyone bat shit crazy here? What the fuck else can happen in the next thirty minutes?
"Did that just happen?" She just blinks tired eyes at me and starts purring as I stroke her between the ears. I have no words, so I'm just going to ignore that whole tirade. The woman is obviously a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but I’ll keep an eye on her; I wouldn't want her to become a problem.
Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1) Page 25
