by Ranae Rose
Not that she was stupid enough to indulge in a rebound. In fact, the thought made her feel faintly sick, momentarily dulling her hunger.
She’d just have to ignore the aggravating ways her body reacted to Ben’s sexy presence. It’d be good practice at resisting temptation.
She needed it. No way was her life in Pittsburgh going to be a repeat of her San Francisco failures.
“Separate cars?” he asked when they reached the parking lot. “Or would you like me to drive? I can drop you off back here afterward if you want.”
“Separate cars would probably be best,” she said, digging in her bag for her keys.
See, she could be reasonable. She’d resist the aura of temptation that radiated from Ben, butterflies be damned. And if she could pull it off around someone as sexy as him, she should be able to handle anyone.
CHAPTER 4
It was hard to believe the way Hannah’s attitude toward Ben had changed. She followed him to the restaurant, and this time, they were able to get a table instead of bellying up to the bar. As she sat across from him, there was no hint of the frown she’d worn last time, when she’d been stuck beside the guy who’d spilled his beer on her sandwich.
She’d relaxed during their session at the gym, and as they waited for their food to be delivered, she was friendly. With her smiling, freshly-washed face free of make-up and her hair down, she was like a different woman.
Still unbearably sexy, but more accessible. His interactions with her were no longer tinged with anticipation of her rejecting him.
“So you said you moved here from San Francisco?” He took a long sip of his water.
She nodded and her hair swung freely, shimmering true black in the restaurant’s lighting. His hands tingled with the urge to reach out and touch, but he kept them to himself.
“Big change,” he said.
“I was ready for a big change.” Her smile wavered, giving way to a strange expression he remembered from the gym.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she’d moved across the country because there was something she’d wanted to leave behind, but he didn’t ask questions.
He knew what it was like to have parts of your past you didn’t want to face day in and day out. He knew what it was like to start fresh somewhere else to get away from it, too.
Of course, you couldn’t escape the past. Not really. But you could at least escape the people who’d witnessed it, and the places that would always remind you of it.
Sometimes, what you didn’t force someone to say forged more of a connection than what you did. This seemed like one of those times.
“The climate here must be a disappointment for you. San Francisco is pretty mild, right?”
His gaze flickered from her face to her thin, green jacket. Maybe it had been appropriate for March in San Francisco, but it wasn’t here.
She nodded. “I have a feeling I’m going to miss the San Francisco weather. It got pretty chilly in the evenings, but not Pittsburgh cold. I didn’t realize the temperatures would be so low here in March. I mean, it’s springtime.”
He laughed. “It’s not unusual for it to snow here in March. You might want to invest in a good coat.”
She looked down at her jacket, touching the thin material. “Have you always lived here?”
“No, I’m originally from Jersey. Newark.”
Things he didn’t want to think about crowded his thoughts, edging in on the pleasure generated by his conversation with Hannah. He pushed them down, like he frequently did. Seemed like he was always fighting a battle against unwanted thoughts, struggling to clear them from his mind’s pathways like a street sweeper cleared junk from asphalt.
“I’ve never been. This is my first time away from the West Coast.”
“Your family all back in San Francisco?”
“Actually, they’re in Sacramento, which is where I’m originally from. I moved to San Francisco for work.”
The waitress appeared with their sandwiches, and Hannah seemed relieved.
So was Ben, mostly because he was starving. He didn’t waste time in getting started on his lunch.
“You work on cars, right?” Hannah asked after a while.
“I paint them.”
They spoke a little about Hot Ink – a place with which they were both familiar.
“Dylan says you specialize in Japanese style tattoos.”
“That’s right.”
He nodded at her arms. Though she wore a jacket, he hadn’t forgotten what her ink looked like.
“Is your work anything like that?”
“Yes. I apprenticed to the artist who did these for me, actually. Our styles are similar.” A ghost of a frown crossed her face.
Probably because she had people on the West Coast she’d miss. Ben didn’t ask why she’d left, but he did wonder.
Whatever the reason, it surely wasn’t as bad as why he’d left Jersey. No way in hell did he want her to know about that, though, so he kept his mouth firmly shut.
“If your work looks anything like that, it must be good.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Is that all you tattoo – Japanese style pieces?”
“For the past couple years, there was enough of a demand for my work in San Francisco that I kept busy with my Japanese style tattoos. Now that I’m here, though – I don’t know. It may take me time to build up an abundance of clients who are interested in my specialty. I’m open to tattooing in other styles, although Japanese is what I love best.”
Her apparent popularity on the West Coast added another layer of seriousness to the fact that she’d up and left. Was she confident her talent would draw a glut of clients here too, or had she just wanted to get away from something so badly that she was willing to sacrifice the certainty of eager clients?
Pittsburgh was great, but it was far from the largest or most glamourous city the eastern part of the country had to offer.
“How’d you get started – did you always want to tattoo?”
“I always wanted to be an artist. When I was a kid, I thought I’d be a painter. My grandmother was an artist and had a lot of art books, including a beautiful book of Edo Period paintings. I used to try to recreate them. I guess the fascination stuck – I’m still in love with that art style.
“Whenever I saw some impressive Japanese style tattoos as a teen, it sort of just clicked – I wanted one. And I wanted to create them for other people. Plus, my great-great grandparents immigrated to the US from Japan generations ago, and I liked the idea of my art having a tie to that part of my family’s history.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“We’re Japanese-American, although my sister’s husband is Guatemalan. What about yours?”
“German, Scottish, English and Italian. At least, that’s where we started out a long time ago. My family has been from Jersey as long as anyone remembers.”
His paternal grandmother was the one with the Italian heritage. Ben’s mother had been trying and failing for years to replicate her mother-in-law’s meatball recipe, which his dad loved. It’d been the source of several completely ridiculous and highly memorable arguments between his parents.
He had to fight a smirk at the thought. His parents weren’t all bad. He had funny memories, good memories. But he wasn’t close to his parents – couldn’t be – and they clashed heads all too often.
God help him if they ever found out he was bipolar. Watching how they’d treated Dylan in regards to it over the past several years had discouraged him from telling them.
“So what kind of artist was your grandmother?” he asked, pushing thoughts of his family away. “A tattoo artist?”
Hannah laughed. “She was a watercolor painter. Not famous or anything, but her art was fairly well-known locally, and she did sell some of her paintings.”
“Too bad. It’d be cool to be able to say you had a badass grandmother who worked as a tattoo artist.”
Hann
ah grinned. “Yeah, it would be.”
“Even if your grandma never tattooed anyone, I think it’s cool that you have something you specialize in.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. When people think of you, they’ll think of what you’re passionate about. They’ll remember you for it. Who wouldn’t want that?”
She smiled. “I guess we’ll see how many people around here feel passionate enough about my work to get it tattooed.”
“Seems like you’re already keeping busy.”
She shrugged. “Things seem to be off to a good start.”
“But?” He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind, dealing with whatever she’d left unsaid.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. A part of me is worried I won’t ever build up a client base like I had in San Francisco. For a while, I really felt like I’d carved out a niche for myself there. Hit my stride. Whatever.”
Her expression was wistful, but he didn’t miss the line that’d formed between her eyes.
“Change and doubt usually come hand in hand, as far as I can tell,” he said. “If you did well there, I’m sure you’ll do well here too. People know good work when they see it, and the other artists at Hot Ink are already booked months in advance.”
He’d had plenty of doubts when he’d uprooted himself and started fresh in Pittsburgh. He couldn’t imagine anyone starting over without misgivings – it was human nature. Doubt was the toll you paid for change.
She nodded. “Thanks. That’s part of what drew me here: the fact that the studio has more demand than it can handle. That fact sort of seemed like a safety net.”
She turned the conversation toward his work, which was interesting to him, but probably less than riveting for anyone who didn’t love cars. He always had; his obsession predated even his earliest Matchbox models. He’d been born drawn to anything with a motor and four wheels.
Thinking of the glazed-over look Dylan got in his eyes when Ben talked too long about things that were too technical, he tried not to ramble in a way that would bring out the same look in Hannah.
Her eyes were so pretty – dark and always shining, even when the light was dim – that he couldn’t stand the thought of them wandering and growing dull. Having her undivided attention was like feeling the effects of a steady IV drip drug: a constant, subtle high.
“What’s your favorite thing about Pittsburgh so far?” he asked when they were halfway done with their meals.
“The cheesesteaks,” she said, laughing and then looking away.
The fact that she seemed embarrassed made him think she was being honest. A little piece of his heart broke off, and he knew he wouldn’t get it back. Not with her around, fueling fantasies with her mouth-watering beauty and love of guilty pleasures.
“I’d say you need to get out and experience more of the city, but to tell the truth, I think they’re my favorite thing too.”
The way she smiled made him think he’d said the right thing. It wasn’t completely true, though. His favorite thing about Pittsburgh was that no one – besides Dylan, Crystal and Jed – knew about the things he’d done before he’d come here.
He suspected that Hannah’s appreciation of the city centered around something similar, but he was happy to settle on the mutual lie of the cheesesteaks.
They really were good. Not that they hadn’t had good ones back in Jersey, but by the time he’d left, all food had tasted like ash in his mouth.
Little by little, he’d learned to enjoy things again here.
“You know, there are plenty of touristy things to do here. My brother and his girlfriend have dragged me around to most of them over the past few months. You might want to look into exploring once you get some warm clothes.”
“What kind of things?”
“Art, science and history museums, parks… There’s a conservatory I bet you’d like.” He’d gone to the Phipps Conservatory once with Crystal, Dylan and Emily. Crystal had really liked it, and the abundance of flowers struck him as something most women would enjoy seeing.
“I’ve been meaning to play tourist,” she said, nodding down at her sandwich, “but this is as far as I’ve gotten.”
“It’s a good start.”
“Yeah, and it’s a good thing I bought a gym membership, too.”
Did she feel self-conscious about the gym because he was there so often? The thought made him feel bad. He wanted to tell her she was perfect, but he’d promised her this wasn’t a date, and that sounded like something to say on a date.
Plus, he disliked going out with women who picked at their food like squirrels. Sitting across from someone who always pretended not to be able to eat more than half a salad while he ate whatever he wanted made him feel like a jerk. Like they were holding back because they were afraid of what he might think.
If only they knew how appealing the sight of a woman actually enjoying food was for him. He was pretty sure a mutual appreciation of red meat counted as a shared interest.
When the waitress brought the bill, Hannah grabbed it before Ben could lift a hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Paying.” She dug in her purse.
“No way.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’ve got it.”
She held onto the check like Gollum with his ring. “You paid for my food the other day; now I’m paying for yours.”
“You already paid me back.”
She shrugged. “I’ll get the check this time – maybe some other time, you can pay.”
He started to protest, and she arched a brow. “Since this isn’t a date, there’s no need to get all chivalrous and insist on picking up the check.”
He kept his mouth shut, though it was an effort. She was right: he was acting like this was something more than lunch between casual friends.
It hadn’t been intentional. She was the kind of woman who made him want to do nice things for her. He’d overstepped the boundary without thinking.
“Thanks,” he said. “Appreciate it.”
She put down a few bills on the table.
Although there was no way he could eat any more, he didn’t want to leave the restaurant. Going home and relaxing just didn’t hold any appeal in comparison to spending time with Hannah.
He wished there was something else they could do, but knew he was being greedy. Between the gym and the restaurant, they’d already spent hours alone together.
That didn’t keep him from wanting more when they said goodbye in the parking lot and went their separate ways.
* * * * *
Hannah drove with only a vague sense of direction, unable to bring herself to head straight home after lunch with Ben. The time they’d spent together had been the most enjoyable hours of her life in Pittsburgh so far. The feeling of otherness that’d hit her as soon as she’d left the West Coast had eased – around him, she felt comfortable. He was easy to be around, and not just because he was easy on the eyes.
Loneliness didn’t suit her well. She’d realized that as soon as things had fallen through with Zander. In an instant, most of her social relationships had been transformed, bonds of trust and friendship cracked by betrayal. Her co-workers, along with most of her friends, had been Zander’s too. Becoming suddenly alone had been a hard pill to swallow.
In contrast, there was something warm and enticing about Ben. Talking to him was as easy as talking to an old friend, but there was still a thrill of newness – excitement – that teased her when she was around him.
She chalked that up to him being hot.
Really, really hot. A part of her hated that their lunch hadn’t been a date.
The rest of her was horrified by that fact. It’d only been a couple months since her life had crumbled in the wake of her last ruined relationship, and now here she was lusting after someone she’d just met. She needed to get a grip.
Rain pelted down against her windshield as she turned toward a shopping center. It was barely forty degre
es outside; the rain would be like ice water. Her thin jacket wouldn’t offer much protection, but if she was going to find anything better suited to her new home, she had to get out of the car.
With water dampening her hair and streaming down her face, she hurried across the parking lot. It smelled strongly of motor oil brought to the surface by rain, and she nearly slipped on the slick asphalt. When she made it inside a department store, the glare of bright lights seemed harsh in comparison to the cool grey tones enveloping everything outside.
The spring merchandise was out, and there weren’t many winter coats left. The ones remaining were on clearance though, so she was able to find one at a great price. Afterward, a nearby athletic wear display caught her eye.
She couldn’t help but think it’d be nice to have something cuter than old t-shirts to wear to the gym. And not just because she knew she’d be seeing Ben there.
No, it was because… She grabbed a tag and read all about sweat-wicking technology, quickly deciding that was what she needed. Cute, sleek sweat-wicking technology in a flattering shade of purple.
Maybe a new sports bra, too. The elastic in the one she’d worn today had given up the ghost, and she’d bounced embarrassingly as she’d run on the treadmill. She didn’t want a repeat performance.
As she picked out a fancy maximum-support bra with a front zipper, she tried not to imagine what it’d be like to be zipped right out of it by Ben.
She failed, but could she really be blamed? Most of the women in the gym had probably had the same fantasy after glimpsing him in the middle of a workout.
It didn’t mean she’d act on it.
It just meant it’d be harder than ever to act like she wasn’t interested if he hit on her. Again.
CHAPTER 5
“Ben!” Emily grabbed Ben’s face and nearly tore a hole in his lip. She’d finally learned to say his name correctly – for months, he’d been Beh – but she still had no idea how badly her little fingers could hurt.
