by Karen Ferry
“We’ll be fine.” Her eyes don’t waver from mine. “We always will be.”
I wish I had her confidence, but I know the books better than she does. Still, I don’t want to ruin her good mood, so I just smile at her.
“You’re right, of course.”
“Good.” She looks down at Ailith and reaches a hand out to her. “Come, girl, let’s go for a ride.”
“Yay!” Ailith’s happy voice sends a tingle of happiness through my tummy, and I pluck the cheque from Mum’s fingers.
“I’ll head into town, get this in our bank account,” I tell her and lean down to kiss Ailith on her nose. “Be good,” I murmur, and she rolls her eyes at me. As I straighten my back, I wipe some loose strands of hair away from my face. “I’ll do a bit of shopping for dinner as well.” I turn to Mum. “Anything in particular you fancy?”
She shrugs as Ailith starts to drag her back to the stables.
“Surprise us!” she grins back.
“Right.”
Quickly, I head back to the house to wash my hands. I don’t bother changing my clothes, though, and after I’ve grabbed my handbag and the keys to my Beetle, I head into Glasgow.
Kristian
“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Alex, my friend—and boss–asks me when we open the tattoo shop at noon.
Grimacing, I run a hand through my messy hair.
“Just got a headache, that’s all.”
“Whoa. Again?” He squints his eyes at me as he bites his lip, tugging at the bottom one. “Been partying again, have we?”
Gritting my teeth, I ignore him as I walk behind the counter and pick up our calendar. I check the appointments we’ve got lined up for today, a bit disappointed that we only have a few, and the first one isn’t for an hour. I don’t need to hear another lecture from his lips—he’s as bad as me. I keep ignoring him when he places his arms on the counter in front of me.
“Look, Kristian, it’s not my place to say anything, but…”
“Then why are you even talking right now?” I interrupt him. I toss the calendar on the table and move away from him.
“Careful,” he calls out to me. I pause at the sound of his annoyed voice. The jovial look on his bearded face is gone, and the hint of steel in his brown eyes warns me not to push him too far.
“I’m still your boss, and the last thing I need is a young, raucous fucker in my shop, who’s so hung-over, he’ll end up pissing off a client by messing up a design.”
I turn around and stalk right up to him, anger seething in my veins.
“I’ll never bodge a job, and you know it. I can handle it.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring my stance. “Okay, then. But don’t push me, Kristian. You got it?”
I nod curtly and step away from him.
Alex relaxes his stance and clears his throat.
“Why don’t we order lunch and take it easy until your client comes in, yeah?”
I acknowledge his offer of a truce and force my lips into a smile.
“Sounds good. Kebab or pizza?”
He rubs his hands, looking at the ceiling in thought. I suppress a sigh. Alex is even worse than a woman when it concerns picking what kind of takeaway to get. I should’ve known better than to ask him.
“Kebab, I think,” he finally answers.
“Fine. I’ll phone our order through, and you pick it up. Deal?”
“Deal.”
After I’ve ordered our food, I pick up my sketchpad. I don’t draw as much as I used to, but Alex does have a point—it’s time to get my head on straight. Two months is enough time to moon about a woman who’ll never be mine, and burying myself in work might just be the cure for me. Since fucking, or drinking, hasn’t worked yet, I might as well immerse my feelings in my art instead.
Alex has gone to his office—probably to sort out some of his paperwork—so I’m alone in the shop as the bell above the door pings, alerting me to someone walking in. Turning in my chair, I put my sketch pad down before I pay attention to them.
The woman has her back to me as she shuts the door, and I take in her firm, perky arse covered in some sort of strange trousers. My eyes trail up her back and I frown at the flannel shirt. Weird outfit. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, wild strands escaping it, and I can’t help but smile in appreciation of her long, slender neck.
The female body is one hell of a piece of art. One that I, as a red-blooded male, know a heck of a lot about.
When she turns around, my smile falters as I recognise her. Her eyes widen for a nanosecond and her mouth pops open. Without meaning to, my eyes zoom in on the scar on her cheek. Just like yesterday.
“You!” she gasps.
My pencil slips out of my fingers resting on my knee, and I spring from my seat. When the woman winces, I frown for a beat, confused by her reaction. I try to morph my lips into a friendly smile.
“Hello. Nice to see you again,” I greet her, before I bend down to grab the pencil from the floor. I place it on the pad carefully, and walk out from behind the counter. Some wild instinct tells me that I need to keep my movements slow, non-threatening.
“Um, yes. Hi.”
I wait for her to say something else, but when she doesn’t, I run a hand through my scruff. I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something to say, but, for once, I’m struck mute.
Finally, the woman comes unglued from her spot and takes the three steps separating us quickly.
“I’m sorry,” she grimaces. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
I smile at her and shrug.
“No need to apologise. I didn’t think I’d see you again, either, so…”
She tucks a stray hair behind her ear before she reaches out her right hand for me to shake. I take her small hand in mine, almost shocked when it seems to get completely lost in my bigger one.
“I’m Laura,” she says, voice low, soft, husky.
My smile widens.
“Hello, Laura. I’m Kristian.”
5
Laura
Kristian keeps my hand in his for a couple of seconds longer than polite, but when I flex my fingers, silently asking him to let me go, he releases it at once. Tension coils in my stomach at the way his bright, blue eyes trail over my face again. The stubble on his face makes him look older than he probably is, and I feel silly for being unable to tear my eyes away from his body.
It’s quite a sight.
Fidgeting with the clasp on my handbag, I try to suppress the urge to run a hand down my scar. I only do it when I’m nervous, and I’m definitely completely thrown at seeing him again.
Awkward silence settles between us, and I curse inwardly for being so inept at small talk. I paste a smile on my lips, hoping it comes off as genuine.
“Thank you again for buying Ailith the book.”
He nods. “It’s my pleasure. I hope she remembered her promise to me.”
Confused, I blink.
He winks at me. “About buying you an ice cream.”
“Oh!” Chuckling, I nod. “Yes, she did. Thank you. You really made her day.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
I step to his left as I take in the framed drawings displayed on the burgundy walls in the square room.
“So, Laura, what brings you here? A touch-up or new ink?”
I shrug as I glance back at him.
“I don’t have any tattoos yet,” I admit.
“Aaah, so you’re an ink virgin,” he grins, and I blush.
“I suppose I am.” I take a deep breath as I turn a half circle. Tribal arts, mythological creatures, quotes—they all stare back at me, causing me to feel a little overwhelmed.
“Do you have a particular design in mind?” Kristian asks, taking the lead. He grabs a notebook—or is it a sketch pad?—from the counter and flips it open.
I shake my head.
“No, not really, but I have thought about getting Ailith’s name inked on my wrist.” I raise my
left arm to him before letting it fall down to my side. “It’s not very original, I know.”
Kristian frowns at me.
“Every tattoo is original—at least the ones I create—and I understand the sentiment behind having a loved one’s name permanently on your skin. So don’t be embarrassed.”
Feeling more at ease in his company, I tilt my head at him.
“Thanks.” I take a deep breath. “Coming here today was more of a whim, actually. My friend, Trish, told me once about your shop as she’s had some work done here in the past.”
He grins at me. “Always nice to be referred by a satisfied customer. Well, if you’d like to see some examples of lettering—fonts and such—I have a folder you can look through?”
“Great,” I smile, still a little unsure. “Is it like anything else in life?”
He gives me a questioning look.
“That I’ll know what I want when I see it?” I explain.
A warm look enters his eyes and my belly flips when he wets his lips.
Well, crap.
“Pretty much,” he answers, his voice a little rough.
Ignoring his flirting, I nod briskly. “Good.”
He takes a file from a black bookshelf under the counter and points to the other end of the shop.
“Why don’t you take a seat and look through these?”
I turn in the direction he’s pointing. There’s a small seating area in the back, and I look at the plush, black leather couches placed there. They look comfortable.
Taking the file from his hand, I nod.
“Perfect, thanks. I won’t get in your way.”
“Oh, I doubt I’d mind if you did.”
Double crap.
“Are you flirting with me?” I blurt out.
He grins, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Absolutely.”
I don’t have a flippant remark ready. Instead, I frown at his blatant honesty, and walk to the seating area. With my back to him, I sit down, mentally kicking myself for even asking him that.
I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about me. Once upon a time, I was quite good at the cat and mouse game played by men and women, but those days are gone. I don’t want a man in my life. I don’t want anyone.
Opening the folder, I give myself a good talking to. A small seed of regret seeps into my bones, chilling me to my core, but I can’t relent. Kristian may be a nice bloke—not to mention incredibly gorgeous—but I don’t want his attention. Not even if my lady bits seem to think otherwise.
Kristian
Fuck me, those eyes.
Light grey, stormy eyes that seem young yet old at the same time. Eyes that flickered with a thousand different emotions when they met mine. The interest I saw when I admitted to flirting with her shut down immediately, and I could’ve bitten my tongue.
I try not to squirm in my seat as I keep stealing glances at Laura’s bent head from my seat at the counter. Pen in hand, I’m aimlessly drawing, all the while attempting to tamp down my rising need. As usual, my cock won’t listen. Why the hell does she intrigue me?
Frowning, I look down at the drawing in my hand when the door to Alex’s office opens, and he walks out. He shrugs on his leather jacket and leans towards the mirror. I shake my head at the way he fiddles with his bow-tie—blue today—and runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.
That man is more worried about his looks than most women.
“I’m going to head out, get our food,” he says as he turns around. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Everything good?”
I nod and then tilt my head in Laura’s direction. “Yeah, just waiting for a possible client right now.”
He looks at her back and nods before he turns to the door.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Sure.”
The bell dings above the door as he leaves, and my eyes are drawn back to Laura.
Bloody hell, get a grip, man.
No sooner have the words entered my mind than she stands up, the file opened to a page, and as she walks closer towards me, I lean on the counter. I try to smile casually at her, but it’s hard when my whole body is screaming at me to fuck her senseless.
“Did you find one you like?” I ask her, keeping my voice low.
She purses her lips and nods.
“I think so, yes.” She places the file in front of me and I look down at the simple, understated font—American Typewriter.
Frowning, I raise my eyes to her.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she confirms, her gaze not wavering from mine. I can’t help but admire that kind of determination.
“Most women pick a font that looks handwritten or cursive,” I start slowly. I want to make sure she’s certain of this, especially since this will be her first tattoo.
“Well, I’m not most women,” she states as she crosses her arms and juts her hip out. I smirk when she straightens up, because a woman her size puffing out her chest like that, telling me in no uncertain terms that she’s not swayed from her decision, is a little bit funny.
It’s also cute as hell.
Intrigued, I nod and try to ignore my now throbbing cock.
“I guess you’re not. Okay, let’s get you all set up. When would it suit you to come in and get your virgin skin inked?”
Hesitating, she takes out her phone. “I’m free at two p.m. next Thursday?”
I open my mouth to answer, but don’t get the chance to get a word in when her phone immediately starts to ring in her hand. She jumps a little and then smiles apologetically at me before she answers.
“Hello?”
Patiently, I wait, but when a small crease forms between her eyebrows, my shoulders tense up. Then I wonder why the fuck do I even care? It’s messed up.
“Hello?” she repeats, her voice a bit firmer and she looks down at her feet. Then she shakes her head a little and ends the call.
“Sorry,” she shrugs at me, “it must’ve been a wrong number.” She places her phone back in her handbag. “So, Thursday next week?”
I nod when I check our calendar, slightly annoyed that it’ll be another week before I see her again.
“No problem.”
“Thanks.”
I jot her name down, and then smile at her.
“I need your phone number as well, please.” When she narrows her eyes at me, I shrug. “In case something comes up and we have to reschedule.”
“Oh.” The suspicion disappears from her gaze immediately and she quickly rattles off the number for me. As I write it down, I wonder if I can say or do anything else that’ll prolong her stay, but I’m blank. A-fucking-gain.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a week, then.” Itching to feel her skin on mine again, I reach out my hand. When she hesitates, I school my lips into a polite smile.
“Goodbye,” she murmurs as she takes my hand. Her grip is stronger this time, more confident.
I jerk my chin at her.
“Until then.”
I watch her retreating back as she leaves the shop. Then I lean my arms in front of me on the desk, wondering for the millionth time why she intrigues me so much.
Alex walks back inside and stops abruptly in the middle of the room, bags dangling from his hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me, a suspicious look in his eyes.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Then why do you look so serious?”
“I’m just hungry, man,” I mutter.
He walks towards me and glances to the back of the shop.
“Did you get a new client?”
I nod as I open the bag of food. My stomach growls like mad as I breathe in the spices that waft up at me.
“Yes. Just a regular job, though. No biggie.”
“Okay, well, let’s eat before your next client gets here.”
“Sure.”
We head back to his office, keeping the door open so not to miss any passers
-by that might wander in from the street. As we eat, I try to push Laura, and her strange reactions to me, from my mind, and listen to Alex jabbering about his latest piece of arse instead. But it’s no use. Laura’s face is imprinted on my brain, making me feel more alive than I have in a while.
I sense there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye, and while I’m definitely not looking for anything permanent, I can’t deny that the mystery of her has me curious.
6
Kristian
Banging on my door wakes me up the next morning.
“Kristian! Wake up, lazy git!”
“Hey, now,” I grumble as the door bursts open. I barely manage to cover my lower body with my sheets. The last thing I need is for my aunt to get a good look at my morning wood.
She wrinkles her nose at me and walks to the windows next to my bed.
“It smells like a pigsty in here,” she grumbles as she opens one of them.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” I yawn as I lean up on my elbows, squinting at her. “What time is it?”
“Just after eight,” she smirks at me.
I fall back with a groan.
“Good God, Lise, you’re worse than Mum—all smiles and sunshine at the crack of dawn.”
She scoffs at me as she takes a step closer to my bed, fists planted firmly on her hips.
“It’s not barely dawn, boy,” she scolds me. “Come, get up. Remember you’re taking me to see a horse today?”
“Fuck,” I mutter, clearing my eyes from sleep. “Is that today?”
“Yep.” She claps her hands in front of her, and I crack a smile at the enthusiasm shining in her eyes. “I’ve made you breakfast, so hurry up and come by. You don’t want it to go cold and stale now, do you?”
“Please promise me there’s no haggis this time?” I beg. The thought alone makes me gag even though I’m not hung-over this morning.
She chuckles at me as she turns away. “I promise. Now, get in the shower, please.”
“What the hell are you wearing?” I tease her as I rub the sleep out of the corners of my eyes. “You look like a talking ad for the Horse & Hound or something like that.”
