by Amelia Shea
“We good?” he asked Saint.
Saint moved closer and nodded. He walked around to face Bailey and sat on the rolling chair, sliding it in front of her.
“Ready?”
“It’s like getting laid for the first time. It hurts like hell, but if you’re lucky, you’re left with a good memory,” Minka said, and Saint shook his head.
Bailey giggled, clearly amused by Minka. “Is that what yours was like?”
Minka sighed. “No. Mine was like getting an STD on prom night. My ex was an amateur tattoo artist. It was so fucked up; the asshole tatted his friggin’ name on my hip.” She shook her head. “And he even misspelled it. How the fuck do you misspell your own name?”
Saint was privy to the story. Bailey had a similar reaction as he did the first time he heard it.
Her jaw dropped and she gasped. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
Minka shrugged. “I broke his nose, ditched his ass and walked into Saint’s first shop, and Marco fixed it.”
Marco chuckled as the tattoo gun sounded. “True story, Bailey.” He rested his free hand
on her back. “You ready?”
Bailey nodded. Saint knew the second the needle made contact with her skin. She flinched.
For the next thirty minutes, Minka distracted her with tales of past boyfriends and other regrettable tattoos.
“I’d give you instructions on the aftercare but I’m sure Saint will cover that with ya.”
“No sweat, so no doggystyle, Saint.”
“Christ sake, Minka. Tell me again why I haven’t fired your ass?” Saint snapped.
She winked. “’Cause I’m a fucking genius when it comes to tattoos.” She peered over Bailey’s shoulder. “It’s gorgeous, Bailey. It’s absolutely perfect on you.”
That’s why I haven’t fired her. That sweet fucking heart of hers.
Marco handed him a mirror and Saint angled it for Bailey to see. Her bottom lip fell open. “It’s so beautiful.”
Marco snorted. “The props go to you, Bailey, it’s your creation. I want to see your drawings, by the way. Saint’s been bragging on you.”
She turned and glanced up with her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. Seeing the look on her face, he wanted nothing more than to take her home and get her back in his bed.
Minka and Marco had other plans.
Once Marco wrapped her shoulder, the whole staff walked down the street, taking over three tables at the pizzeria and enjoyed their dinner. Saint and Bailey were the first to leave. With the opening tomorrow, he wanted to get in at seven.
He held the door open and Bailey slid past him. They started down the street back to the shop where he was parked. Her hand grasped his and she threaded her fingers through.
“I like your people, Saint.” She curled closer to him and he released her hand to wrap his arm over her shoulder.
“And they love you, especially Minka.”
“She’s fabulous.”
He flattened his lips. “Not the word I was going to use, but she’s definitely one of a kind.”
She giggled as he unlocked the door and started through the shop out to the back. He scanned the area and his chest expanded. This one would be his best. It would keep him grounded in one location. Keep him close to everything important. He started forward to find Bailey waiting by the back door, smiling at him.
All I need.
Chapter Eighteen
Saint cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. It had been a long day, and he was eager to close up shop and head back to his place, make a fire in the yard, and settle in with a beer. And Bailey.
The grand opening had been more successful than he’d originally hoped for. A few brothers had scheduled time with Marco and Minka. A few others even tested out some of the new talent. So far, there hadn’t been any complaints. He wasn’t surprised. Saint had always been meticulous in his business, including who he hired. There was a lot of traffic through the better part of the day, which meant Saint was working and not with Bailey or Cia.
He’d caught them hanging out on the couches in the waiting area for a while, then Bailey brought her over to the diner for lunch, and they stopped in Macy and Chey’s place. There weren’t many sights which melted a man like Saint. Watching Bailey come into his shop holding his daughter’s hand was one of them. Cia had taken to Bailey as he knew she would. His relationship with Tara and Denny had helped with co-parenting in the best interest of Cia. Tara had stopped by with the boys who were over the moon to get tattoos from Minka. Non-permanent, of course.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached back and glanced down at the screen before bringing it up to his ear.
“Yeah.”
“Not gonna make it.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry, man, got held up here. How’d it go? Good turnout?”
Saint tucked his free hand under his arm and straightened his back. “Better than I expected. Marco’s been at it all day, same with Minka.”
“Fuck, man, can’t believe I’m missing Minka too.”
Saint rolled his eyes. Though he refused to hear any details, he was well aware of the common hookups between his brother and his artist. They were both consenting adults with the same outlook on sex. Strictly fun without commitment.
“They meet Bailey?”
Saint smiled. “Yesterday. Marco did her first tat, came out incredible and.” He sighed. “Minka lost her shit when we walked through the door.”
Hades drew in a breath, assumingly taking a drag from his cigarette. “You surprised? Fucking Minka is a freak. Hot as hell though. Anyway, just wanted to reach out. Be there next time, man.”
“I know you will. Appreciate it.” Saint assumed the call was ending and was about to say bye when Hades spoke.
“You hear anything from Decker?”
“Not yet. I’ll give it a few days then I’ll reach out.”
“Sounds good, you need me, you call me, Saint.”
“I will.” Saint ended the call, tossing his phone on the desk.
They hadn’t always had the most amicable relationship, but Saint and his brother were tight. They chose similar, yet opposite paths, and always remained loyal to one another. His move to Ghosttown would put them closer in proximity. From the sound of Hades’ intentions, even closer if he settled in town.
The sharp knock at his office door was followed by an abundance of pounding when he didn’t answer right away. Saint headed toward the door. It flew open before he got there. Tara’s boys rushed in, pushing against each other to get to Saint first. He glanced up to see Bailey’s crinkled nose and squinting eyes. His guess would be she hadn’t been exposed to many boys, especially rowdy ones like Tara and Denny’s.
“They wanted to show you their new tattoos.”
Simultaneously the boys threw up their arms and Saint bent down, dropping onto one knee putting them eye level. He grasped their hands and looked closely, inspecting the work. His mouth curved.
“It looks good. When are you two coming back to get the sleeves done?”
“Oh hell, bite your tongue, Saint.”
He snickered and stood, meeting the gaze of his ex, standing closely with Bailey. Tara threw her arm over Bailey’s shoulder and laughed. It was comfortable and familiar, and he noticed how at ease Bailey was with her.
“We gotta run. Cia’s pissed she can’t stay, but she’s got the comp early tomorrow morning.” Tara sighed as Saint made his way over to her.
“Thanks for coming. Denny like his tat?”
Tara raised her brows. “Yeah, the tattoo and the price, kinda hard to beat. How the hell ya expect to make any money if ya don’t charge people, Saint?”
“You’re not people, you’re family. And my family doesn’t pay.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned in, kissing him on the cheek, and repeated the same with Bailey. Saint watched as she gathered her brood. Those boys were running reckless all over the place, reminding him so much of him and his brother
, at their age.
Cia raced toward him from down the hall. He braced himself and bent down, wrapping his arm around his girl. She was growing up too fast. Soon, she wouldn’t be so eager for her kiss and hug goodbye.
“Bye, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too. Good luck tomorrow. Call me when it’s over and let me know how you did.”
“Okay.” She unraveled her arms and turned to Bailey for a hug. Unlike Saint, Bailey was short enough not to have to bend down. He watched as they embraced and Bailey kissed the top of Cia’s head.
“You’re gonna kill it tomorrow, I know it.”
Cia laughed and stepped back. “Thanks, Bailey. I’ll see you next week, right?”
Bailey nodded.
“Okay, love you.” Cia raced back down the hall and out the door.
Bailey eyed him. “Was she talking to me or you?”
“Pretty sure that was for you.”
Bailey smiled.
****
“Bailey, these are really good.”
She glanced over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages. Her cheeks heated from his praise. Marco was an incredible artist, and for him to think her work was good, it meant something. She’d been hesitant to show him but he’d been insistent.
“All freehand?”
“Yeah.”
“You should tattoo.”
Bailey laughed. When he glanced over his shoulder, she realized he wasn’t joking, he was completely serious.
“No, I just draw for fun, I mean, I can’t tattoo.”
He swiveled in his seat and beamed up at her. “Why not? Drawing on paper is the start to every tattoo and you got talent.” He glanced down at her book, flipping another page. “A lot of talent.”
She drew in a breath and smiled. The idea was absurd. When he slammed her book closed, she jumped back, startled.
“You’re doing a tattoo, I’ll teach ya.”
Bailey widened her eyes. “What? No, I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Minka walked into the cubicle and glanced between her and Marco.
Marco kept his smile on Bailey and jutted his chin. “Gonna show Bailey how to tat.”
She expected Minka to laugh at the absurdity. Instead she whipped her head to Bailey and bounced on her feet, clapping her hand. “Yes! Tattoo me.”
“What? Oh my God, no. I don’t know how to do it.” Bailey shook her head. Were they insane? From the eagerness from both of them she’d say yes, they were nuts.
“Marco will teach you, I’m not afraid.”
“But I am.” She shook her head and Minka pouted.
Marco rolled his chair over to Bailey, taking her hand. “You got too much talent to keep it hidden.” He held up her book with his free hand. “You got a whole book here, and if I put it out on the table, I bet you I’d get a lot of people asking for one of your drawings on their body.” He wiggled his brows. “We’re doing this.”
She was overwhelmed by his compliment. So much so, for a brief second, she considered it. What? She shook her head.
“It’s permanent, what if I mess up?”
Minka snorted. “You won’t.”
“What if I do?”
“Then I can fix it,” Marco said.
She bit her lip. Could she tattoo? No!
“There, it’s settled, you’re doing it,” Minka said and glanced over Bailey’s shoulder. “And since you refuse to tattoo me, we just have to find someone else.” She smiled but not at Bailey.
Bailey laughed. “See, you’ll never find anyone who’s willing to be my first tattoo.” Of course, they wouldn’t. Minka, though wonderful and sweet, was obviously a little crazy for offering it up. No sane person would willingly offer their body as a canvas for her to tattoo.
Marco smirked. “We got a taker.” He pushed the chair and it glided over to the table. Bailey spun around and gasped. Saint was standing behind her, gripping the hem of his shirt. She watched as he lifted it over his head, exposing his perfect chest and fully displaying his tattoos.
Then it clicked. No. No. No.
“Saint,” she whispered as he stalked toward her with a smirk. “No.”
“Here, man.” Marco tossed Bailey’s drawing book over to him which he caught with one hand. Bailey had to step back to make room for Saint to slide past her, and he sat on the chair, and opened up her book.
Minka pushed past her. “Don’t start, I gotta get my phone, I wanna take a picture of Bailey’s first tattoo.”
Bailey’s head whipped around the room following all the chaos. Actually, everyone seemed completely at ease, expect for Minka, who was overly excited. Marco was prepping his station, and Saint was flipping through her book. She surged forward and he looked up.
“I can’t tattoo you.”
Saint smiled. “Yes, you can.”
“No.” What the hell was wrong with him? “I can’t do this, Saint. What if I mess up? What if I get nervous? My hands will shake and you’ll have squiggly lines all over your body. It’s gonna look like you let a two-year-old tattoo you.”
Marco chuckled and she ignored him, focusing on Saint. She moved closer and his hand circled around her waist. With him sitting down, they were eye level.
“I’m gonna pick a drawing and you’re going to tattoo it on my body. I want your mark, permanently, on my body, Bailey,” he whispered.
How did this man, always know the perfect thing to say?
She lowered her head, taking him for a kiss. It was soft and lingering at first but any time she kissed him, she found herself getting carried away. His tongue glided across her bottom lip and she opened to him. She grasped his neck and sank against his bare chest.
“Forget about the picture of the tattoo, I want one of these two making out.”
Bailey froze and pulled back from his lips. She turned to Minka who gave her a devilish smile.
“You two are sexy together.”
Saint’s hand glided down her ass to her thigh. He leaned in and kissed her neck before continuing his perusal of the book. She bit her lip, watching and waiting. Her drawings usually veered toward the feminine side.
Saint’s brows knitted together and he brought the book closer to his face. He looked intently at the page and she stretched her neck to see which one he was looking at. From her view, she couldn’t make it out. She stepped closer and Minka bustled behind her.
Saint turned his head, his eyes softening. He turned the book to face her. “This is your hand.”
She smiled. “Yeah. I like hands. They’re very delicate. I practice using my own as a model.” She shrugged. “It’s silly, there’s just something personal about a hand.”
Saint stared and the corner of his mouth curled.
Marco stepped forward. “You decide?”
Saint nodded keeping his stare on her while he handed the book to Marco. “This one.”
She leaned over and caught a glimpse of what Saint had chosen.
My hand.
Chapter Nineteen
Bailey finished off her coffee as she glanced down at her phone. It was later than she expected. She tossed a five on the counter and shimmied off of the barstool.
“Bailey,” Carla warned.
She kept her head down and buttoned up her jacket. Facing off against the head waitress was a feat in itself, one she rarely chose to do. She reached over grabbing her bag. Before she could take it, Carla grabbed the strap.
Bailey straightened her shoulders. “You can’t tell me what do with my money.” She bit back her laugh when Carla squinted.
“Coffee is a dollar, twenty-five.” Carla glanced down at the five-dollar bill on the counter. “You sit at the counter, I walk two steps to serve ya.”
“And I think it deserves a tip.”
“A three hundred percent tip?”
Bailey shrugged. “Like I said, it’s my money.”
Carla grabbed the money and shook her head. Bailey darted out the door and bundled up her jacket. It was cooler than predicted
today, and there had been talk of possible flurries overnight. It had been all Cia talked about when she spent the weekend. Bailey smiled. Snow days are the best days.
She crossed the street, making her way to Cheyenne and Macy’s store.
Another topic of discussion over the weekend had been Cia’s request for scented candles in her room and Saint’s flat out refusal. Bailey understood his concerns. An open flame in a nine-year-old’s room was a recipe for disaster. She had suggested a diffuser and oils which had both Cia and Saint appeased.
She was a few feet from the store when she heard her name.
“Bailey.” The voice was low, and cracked with a small hitch on the last syllable. It was eerily familiar.
She glanced behind her, scanning the area. No one. A cool shiver spread over her skin, tingling up into her scalp. It could have been her imagination. She slowly turned around, eyeing the three short blocks of Main Street.
Aside from a few cars lining the street and the bikes in front of the parts store, the street was empty. She could have sworn she heard someone call her name. The echo of faint footsteps from the side street had her slowly backing up and peeking around the corner.
Oh God.
Every bone in her body tightened, and her hands slowly curled, forming tight fists. Her nails bit into her palms. It seemed as though the next few seconds passed in slow motion. Her breath shallowed as her heart raced erratically. It was as though all she could hear was a thumping beat in her eardrums.
“Hey.”
His smile was shaky, and he made no move to come forward. Thank God, because, at that moment, she wasn’t sure she was capable of moving. A sharp pain shot through her temple. She blinked in an effort to relieve some of the pressure building in her head. What’s wrong with me?
She watched his hand as it shifted over his head. It was shorter than she remembered. She’d always loved the color of his hair, a very dark blond which curled around his ears.
“You’re here,” she mumbled in disbelief. His presence had immobilized her into a frozen state.
The corners of his lips curled. She tilted her head. Why is he smiling? A smile she once loved.
