Tattooed Hearts

by Jessie Cooke

  Jesus, what is wrong with me? The man earns money off people beating other people to a bloody pulp. This is not a good guy. I’m not the kind of girl who is turned on by the bad boy type, so that should make it easier to get him out of my head. I’ve just been alone for too long—I’m horny, plain and simple. Once we finish this job I’m sure I’ll be able to walk away unscathed. That is, as long as I keep my head and stick to my guns about not going out with him.

  When Lillie and I looked at the space for the party she let out a low whistle. “This place is huge.” Serving tables were set up and the rest of the tables were covered with rose-colored linen tablecloths and beautiful white candle centerpieces. There was a small stage with an amp, a guitar, and a keyboard. A man was there adjusting the sound system, and wait staff were already bustling around busily as well.

  “Yeah, it is,” I answered her. Now that I knew who Noah was, the space made more sense to me now than it had yesterday. Once again my mind went to that picture of him covered in a light sheen of sweat, shirtless and in a pair of silk shorts…I shuddered under Lillie’s watchful eye. She grinned and I snapped, “Let’s get busy.”

  Lillie and I helped the delivery driver finish unloading the truck and began arranging the flowers. We were about three quarters of the way finished when a smartly dressed middle-aged woman breezed in with a younger woman, talking and laughing. When they saw the flowers they stopped dead in their tracks. “What are you doing?” the older woman said. She was looking from me to Lillie and back at the roses we’d just finished arranging, and she looked angry.

  I tried a smile. “Hi, I’m Megan Brown. I own Brownie’s Floral. I was just delivering the flowers…”

  “Who ordered these?” the woman snapped in a high-pitched voice. The flowers made her angry somehow, and I was confused. The younger woman put her hand on her arm and said:

  “Mother, we both know who sent them. It’s not the florist’s fault, okay? Let it go.” I had a chance to really look at them both while the younger woman was speaking. They both had raven-black hair and clear blue eyes. They had to be related to Noah, and that made me even more confused. The older woman looked like she was in tears now.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as Lillie came over and stood close to me. “Is there a problem?”

  The younger woman looked up at me. She looked so much like Noah it was kind of creepy. She was as gorgeous as he was—in a softer, more feminine way of course. I wonder if she was the one dating the fighter that died. “Give me a minute, please?” she asked. I nodded and she led the older woman out of the room. A few minutes later she came back and held out her right hand. “I’m Alyssa Michaelson and that was my mother Bonnie. I’m sorry about her behavior.”

  “It’s okay, I’m sorry if I upset her somehow.”

  “It wasn’t you,” she said, “It was my brother. Noah sent you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, Noah ordered the flowers. Would you like me to take them away?” Lillie looked as confused as I did. Why were they so upset over flowers? Did Noah know his mother would react this way?

  “No, you can leave them and I’ll make sure you’re paid for your trouble.”

  “Noah paid me,” I said. The truth was he hadn’t finished paying me, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be a problem.

  The woman just nodded slightly. Lillie and I exchanged a silent “what the fuck?” look. “Good, okay. I’ll keep Mother out of your way while you finish…” She let her voice trail off and I thought I saw tears in her eyes. What was the deal with these people and flowers? Lillie and I both got back to work, working even quicker than we had been. Suddenly we both just wanted to get out of there. In the meantime the older woman came back in, and she and the younger woman put up some large easels in front of the stage and sat three large portraits of a pretty young girl on them. The girl looked to be around twelve, and she too had dark hair and light blue eyes. “Blossom is a little girl,” I whispered to Lillie.

  “His sister too, obviously,” she said.

  “I wonder why he didn’t say that?”

  “I wonder what his mother has against flowers…look at her…” I looked over at Bonnie Michaelson. She was standing in front of one of our displays of white roses, glaring at them like they offended her terribly.

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah, let’s finish and get out of here. This family is giving me the creeps.”

  Patty did a good job; the shop was running smoothly when I got back. I pushed Lillie out the door around three p.m. to go get ready for her big date, urging her once again to accept Dalton’s proposal. At five minutes before five I was selling my last bouquet of flowers of the day to a desperate man who had somehow missed the television ads and billboards and forgotten what day it was. I followed him to the door to lock up and came face to face with Noah. It was like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs with a vacuum.

  In a raspy voice I didn’t recognize I said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to settle my bill.”

  He was cleaned up today. His face was clean-shaven and his short hair looked like it had been trimmed. He was dressed in a long-sleeved Harley Davidson t-shirt, still black, and newer jeans. His boots even looked like they’d been shined. I really didn’t want to be alone with him. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid of him now that I knew more about him, or afraid of me and the way I felt when I was around him. “Oh, well, I was just closing up…”

  He grinned. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow?” Then he winked and said, “Maybe you’re just trying to find ways to keep seeing me?”

  The butterflies in my belly took flight. It was definitely the way he made me feel that I was still afraid of. I managed to roll my eyes in hopes he wouldn’t notice. “Come in.” He stepped inside, and I flipped the closed sign and locked the door. He waited for me to walk up to the counter and then he followed me. I got out the invoice I’d written up and laid it on the counter. He barely glanced at it before handing me his credit card. It was well over five grand. I ran the card and tried to pretend I didn’t feel the heat of his gaze. Once it had gone through I handed it back to him and said, “Thank you. I’ll let you out.” I started back around the counter, but the sound of him saying my name in almost a whisper paralyzed me. I stopped and forced myself to look at him.

  “Megan, have dinner with me.”

  “Do you have any concept of the word no?”

  He grinned again. “Yes, but only for other people.”

  “I have plans.”

  He smiled like he didn’t believe me. “Okay then, how about tomorrow?”

  “I have plans tomorrow too. I’m seeing someone.”

  He actually laughed at that. It pissed me off. Why would he think it funny that I was seeing someone? “You are a bad liar. I bet you got caught every time you tried to get away with anything when you were a teenager.”

  “I’m not lying. I have a boyfriend.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Tyler.” Saying that out loud even in a lie made me feel slightly nauseated.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that the first time I asked you out?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “Just dinner and then I’ll leave you alone…if you still want me to.”

  “What is it with you? Am I just a challenge to you because other women never say no?”

  “They don’t say no because I don’t ask. I haven’t asked another woman out since I was in high school.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t been to dinner or on any kind of date with a woman, ever. The last date I went on was in high school and that was with a girl. Be my first grown-up date, Megan.”

  It was my turn to laugh. My research had revealed he recently turned thirty years old. There was no way Mr. Sex on a Stick had never been on a real date. “Really…I’m supposed to believe you’re what…a thirty-something-year-old virgin?” The smile he gave me then was designed to melt panties right off, I�
�m sure of it. Mine felt so hot I was almost afraid they’d burn me.

  “I didn’t say anything about being a virgin.”

  My face went as hot as my panties and I began to stutter like an idiot. Just the mere mention of this man and sex sent me into a tailspin. I never should have let the conversation go there. When I regained my composure way too many seconds later I said, “I don’t care about your sexual escapades. I really need to close up shop and get home.”

  “So you can get ready for dinner?”

  I suddenly had a headache. It wasn’t the kind my oncologist warned me about or wanted me to report, it was a stress headache caused by this annoying man. I was beginning to wonder if it might just be easier to have dinner with him. Then maybe he’d go away. I ignored the voice that asked if I really wanted him to go away and said, “If I have dinner with you do you promise to go away?”

  That sexy grin was in place and those incredible dimples were taunting me as he said, “If you want me to.”

  “I want you to.”

  “Okay, tell me that again after dinner. What time and where should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll just meet you somewhere…”

  “No. I’ll pick you up, it’s part of the deal.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yep, this is my first real date, remember?”

  Exasperated, I grabbed a piece of paper off the counter and wrote down my address. I didn’t put an apartment number on it. “I’ll meet you out front at eight.”

  “I can’t wait.” He said that sincerely and without a smile. It sent chills through me again. Damn him!

  5

  As I locked up behind him, I watched him climb on the Harley out in front of the store. I was so mesmerized by how hot he looked with the powerful machine between his legs that for a second there was no rational thought in my head. When I heard it fire up and watched those sexy tattooed arms stretch out and take hold of the handlebars I went and got my phone. I looked up his number on the invoice and texted him to ask, “You’re not picking me up on that thing…are you?”

  He texted back, while driving I assume, “Not unless you want me to.”

  “No.”

  “See you at eight.”

  Once I was home I realized I had nothing to wear out on a date. It had been way over a year since I’d really been out. Everything I owned that was nice was two sizes too big for me. I’d put some of the weight I lost back on, but I was still way down under my normal weight. I tried on everything in my closet and when it dawned on me how seriously I was taking this “date,” I finally just settled on a white sweater dress I happened to be trying on at the time. It didn’t fit me as snugly as it should, but I secured it with a belt, put on a pair of black tights and boots, and forced myself to leave it alone.

  My soft, wispy hair was being difficult and I didn’t love it quite so much any longer. It took me over an hour to make it lie down straight to the top of my shoulders. I didn’t do much with my make-up, not wanting to give him any more ideas than he already had. By seven-fifty I was ready to go, and a nervous wreck.

  I made my way downstairs and then around to the front of the apartment complex. I saw him right away. His long, sexy body was reclining up against the side of a dark blue Charger. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button-down long-sleeve shirt with a collar. The material looked soft as silk and it rippled across the muscles in his chest and arms. The car looked brand new and it was as sexy as he was…almost. He smiled when he saw me. I didn’t smile back. Those crystal-blue eyes looked me over as I approached him, and I imagined myself tripping and falling flat on my face before I made it. I guessed at least that might discourage him.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  Instead of telling him how gorgeous he looked, I rolled my eyes at him and said, “Nice car.”

  He was grinning when he came over and opened the passenger door for me. “I’m glad you like it. I bought it for the date.”

  He closed the door and I processed what he said as I breathed in the new car smell. When he slid in behind the wheel I said, “Are you crazy?”

  He nodded, “Yes, but not dangerous.”

  “Good to know,” I said as I settled into the soft leather seat. I really wondered if he got hit in the head too many times when he was fighting.

  “Seatbelt,” he said.

  I pulled the belt across me and he started the engine. My body was shaking. I blamed it on the V-8 as we pulled out of the parking lot, but I was sure it was being closed up in this car so close to him. He smelled good and he looked better than any man I’d ever seen and I’d been alone a really long time…Shit!

  Noah drove to an Italian restaurant not too far from my apartment. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about making conversation with him. The building looked warm and welcoming and put me slightly at ease about my outfit, at least. Leafy green ivy grew up the walls along the outside and potted plants adorned the cobblestone walkway that led up to the door. I always felt more comfortable in places with lots of plants or flowers. It was in my blood, I suppose.

  Noah pulled the car up to the valet stand and one of the young men opened my door. Noah was already at my side by the time I stepped out, and he tried to take my hand. I stepped out of his reach. He looked like he was suppressing a smile, and I had to wonder what it was about me that amused him so much.

  The inside of the restaurant was even more charming than the outside. The walls were green with dark wood trim and the tables were covered in dark green linen tablecloths. The artwork was old Italy and the soft music being piped throughout was too. The woman at the counter asked if we had a reservation, and I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Noah say “Yes,” and give her his name. When he looked at me I shook my head. “I was hopeful,” he said with a grin.

  The hostess led us toward the back of the restaurant. I noticed how everyone’s eyes seemed to be on us and then reminded myself that they were looking at him, not me. I couldn’t really blame them. He strolled confidently past them all like he didn’t even notice he was the center of attention. We were taken to a booth with high backs that blocked it off from the booth in front of and behind it. A red candle was burning in the center of the table and the lights were dim. The romantic atmosphere wasn’t helping the horny thoughts that forced their way into my head each time I looked at Noah.

  “Would you like to see a wine list?” the hostess asked Noah as she laid two menus on our table. He looked at me and I said:

  “Just water for me, please.”

  “I’ll have water too,” he told her. “Thank you.”

  After she left I picked up my menu with the intention of hiding behind it and he said, “You have beautiful eyes.”

  It was a sincere compliment. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for having dinner with me. I’ll always remember you as my first grown-up date.” Now, he was teasing—I thought.

  “So do you normally just take them straight to bed?”

  He smirked. “Are you disappointed I brought you to dinner first?”

  “Right, that’s it,” I said sarcastically. As he laughed I said, “You’re…how old?” I knew he was thirty from my research, but I did not want him to know that I’d Googled him.

  “Thirty,” he said. “Too old?”

  “It doesn’t matter how old you are,” I told him. He tried to look wounded but I had a feeling that wounding his ego would not be easy. “How have you not been on a date since high school? I mean, do you really think so little of women that you can’t bring yourself to buy one dinner before you…take them to bed?” There I go again, talking about him and sex. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I’m buying you dinner.” I had to say, in his defense, that I’d started this.

  “And that will be all you’re doing with me tonight.”

  He chuckled again. “I like you, Megan.”

  “Why?”

  “You want a list?” I didn’t answer
him, thinking it was a rhetorical question. Apparently it wasn’t, and he went on. “The first thing I noticed about you were your eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times, but they’re beautiful. They’re like caramel dipped in chocolate.” I felt heat creeping up my neck toward my face as he continued, “Those tiny little freckles across your nose are super sexy. I like the shape of your lips and your hair looks so soft that I have to stop myself from reaching over and touching it…”

  “Okay, that’s good, thanks.”

  “I wasn’t finished. You’re what? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Okay, you’re twenty-seven and you own a successful business, which you run yourself, and that tells me you’re smart. You’ve insulted me several times with your sarcastic wit so that tells me you’re funny…but most of all there’s just something about the way I feel when I’m around you. I like it.”

  I hadn’t expected him to be so direct. Once again my mouth was bone dry. The hostess arrived with our water just in time and I gulped about half of it down. When I sat the glass down I noticed Noah was looking at me expectantly. “What?”

  “It’s your turn.”

  “For?”

  “To tell me what you like about me,” he said. I laughed. “Come on, there has to something. I mean don’t I at least get a few points for my persistence, or for my patronage of your establishment?”

  “The persistence is annoying,” I said. “The patronage is appreciated…but maybe you should have warned me about your mother.” His entire demeanor changed when I mentioned his mother. It was only for a second and then the mask slid back into place.

  “You met my mother?”

  “Yes, and your sister…one of them.”

  “One of them?” He looked confused.

  “Yes, I met Alyssa. I just saw pictures of Blossom.” Again, that flash of pain in his eyes.

  “What did they say?”

  “Your mother seemed angry and she wanted to know who sent the flowers.”

  “You told her it was me?”