Nine: A pINK Novel (A pINK Series Book 1)

by K. S. Thomas

  The small cluster of flowers she has tattooed at the corner of her left eye are a new shade of purple. At first I didn’t notice because it was covered by her wild hair, but as soon as she pulled a few strands back and tucked them behind her ear, the ink was undeniable. And sexy as hell.

  Then there’s the way they dress. My mom is exceptionally conservative. Add to that, my father makes more money than God, so everything she owns is worth a small fortune. Expensive clothes have a way of looking restricting and uncomfortable. Ironically. And therefore, my mother always looks slightly restricted. And uncomfortable.

  Not Liv. She may as well be dressed in sweats the way she’s casually moseying about in her jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt. There’s a sense of freedom about her. She was missing it last time I saw her, but it’s back now. It’s so intense, I almost envy her for it.

  “I think maybe you two need to go back to the kitchen before anyone sees you. I don’t think Andrew will mind being checked out by a couple of cougars in heat, but Ash and Madi will definitely have a problem with it.”

  My mother’s expression is pained. “Did you just call me a cougar in heat?”

  “Ma,” I shake my head, “He’s younger than I am.”

  Liv’s nose crinkles at my comment, but she remains silent. She’s always done this: internalized her thoughts. It makes me want to find her buttons and push them. See what I can make her say out loud. Always has, only now I finally have the balls to do it.

  “Huh. He wasn’t when you left.” My mother shrugs but willingly lets me herd her back to the kitchen.

  “Ma, that doesn’t even make any sense.”

  “It kind of does,” Liv offers her perspective. “You were eighteen when you left, and in mom years, you stay locked there until you come back. Meanwhile, Andrew didn’t even come into existence until he was of age; therefore, he was never younger than you, and in fact has been older than you for quite some time. Until now.”

  I stand corrected. She talks plenty now. Just about random shit that contains literally no logic or reason.

  “Well, there you have it. And that’s why you two are finally friends. You’re both nuts.” I linger in the doorway, unable to decide if I’m coming or going now that they’re back in the kitchen and at a safe distance from the girls and Andrew.

  Liv eyes me for a second, then turns toward my mother, starting a new conversation about my sister and Madi’s new soft ball coach and her dislike of the new practice times. As much as I’d like to, I know I don’t have shit to add here, so, I turn and walk out. I can’t help but feel like that was her intention all along.

  I get halfway down the hall when I decide I’m not letting her get rid of me that easily. I haven’t patiently waited the last five years for this moment to come creeping along just to let her blow me off the way she always does. I’m not a fucking teenager anymore. It’s about damn time she realizes that.

  Marching back toward the kitchen with a stubborn sense of determination, I nearly collide with her a second time.

  “Shit, Lucas. Didn’t they teach you how to watch where you’re going in the army?” She stumbles backward, clearly flustered by our near crash.

  I lean in automatically, reaching out to steady her, and the scent of her shampoo hits me. Before I know it, I’m breathing in violet and pomegranate along with something sweet I can’t begin to define because the combination of scents and her close proximity is literally obliterating every thought in my brain.

  “Uh.” Shit. Say something. “You smell really fucking good.” Not that. Don’t say that.

  Instantly, she steps back and takes her tantalizing aroma with her.

  “Um. Thank you?” Her hands begin to fidget at her stomach. “That was weird.”

  “It was.” I nod, my head clearing rapidly now that I’m no longer being drugged by her scent. “I’m sorry. It’s just...been a while...since I smelled a woman?” Pretty sure that didn’t make it any less weird.

  Her mouth twitches momentarily before moving into a lopsided grin. “Turn around, Lucas. Go back down the hall. Hang around your sister’s room. The one that’s twenty. She has friends over all the time, all of whom I’m sure would love to let you smell them.”

  I glance down at the tile floor sheepishly. “I’ll give that a shot then. Thanks.”

  So much for taking charge and letting her know I’m the kind of man she should take seriously now. I knew she’d never make it easy, but damn, I was really counting on her at least being left with a lingering impression of the last night we spent together before I left last time. It’s certainly been with me ever since. And so has she.

  Chapter Two

  Heartbreaker

  I haven’t been back to see Pru in over a week. She’s called me several times to check in, and each time I’ve skirted the issue. I’m avoiding her house. No. I’m avoiding what now lives in her house. And so far, it hasn’t been too hard. Work is always an easy out, and on days like today, when we have back to back appointments, no one is surprised when I text Madi and suggest she invite herself to dinner at the McNealys’.

  “You gonna stare at that calf all day or you gonna put some ink on it?” Mouth is hovering over my shoulder, breathing down my neck. She’s so freaking close I can feel the drawstring of her hoodie tickling the back of my bare shoulder.

  “Would you back the fuck up? I’m trying to work here.”

  She smirks but takes a step back just the same. “Is that some new laser tattoo technique you’re developing? Where you can sear it into his skin via your death ray eyeballs?”

  Suddenly, Dallas, the guy who’s getting the new ink, pops his head up to stare back at us, an unexpected panic flashing in his eyes. “It’s the mole isn’t it?! It’s cancer. I knew it.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “Dude, I’m not your fucking dermatologist, so I really can’t say. But if you’re worried about this splotchy little number above your ankle, I can tell you I’ve seen some sketchier shit than that and been told the doc cleared it as perfectly normal.”

  “Damn, woman. If it’s not cancer, what’s the hold up?” I’d say Dallas is about a year and a half out from being one hundred percent covered in art, and about ninety percent of what he already has is my work, so he’s allowed to talk to me like that. And he knows it. That’s key right there. I’d let a lot of people mouth off to me, ‘cause frankly, I can take it. Just most people don’t realize they’d get away with it.

  “I know what her problem is,” Princess pipes up from the station across from me. “I’ve seen that expression before. Girl’s got cock face all the way.”

  I drop the hand that’s been hovering with a needle over Dallas’s flesh for the last five minutes into my lap. “I’m sorry, what now? What the hell is cock face? And I’m only asking for curiosity sake. I can tell you without knowing, that cock face is most definitely not what I’m dealing with.”

  “No, I think she’s right.” Mouth nudges me from behind with her elbow. “Who is he? Whose dick is turning your brain to mush and giving you that blank, braindead expression?”

  Cock face. I get it now. I swear, these girls are so fucking crass, sometimes I think they all grew up in the same truck stop.

  “You guys are all out of your minds. The only dick around here I ever think about is Marcus and that’s just because he won’t fucking disappear. Now if you all don’t mind, I’d like to close up shop sometime today so I can see my kid before she goes to bed tonight.”

  I shake my shoulders dramatically because I can feel Mouth inching her way over again. She leans back briefly to avoid being hit and then dips her head down next to mine again to whisper, “It’s cool, girl. You can tell us who he is later.”

  I press my lips together tightly, clenching my jaws to keep from saying anything else, and then finally, get started on the ridiculous SpaghettiOs tat Dallas ordered up today. Apparently it’s some sort of homage to his grandmother and the Sunday afternoons he spent with her as a kid. Personally, I think he cou
ld have done better than canned macaroni, but then Dallas isn’t all that advanced in the sentimental department.

  It takes less than five minutes before I’m completely engulfed in what I’m doing, the hum of the needle suddenly powerful enough to drown out the entire world. I like that. I learned a long time ago I could zone in on it and completely forget about everything else around me. Today the effect is not as permanent as I’d like it to be, and I continue to notice Mouth traipsing past every fifteen minutes or so to watch me.

  I knew I’d never be able to hide this from them. It’s not like I’m trying to. It’s just that I’m not entirely sure what this is yet. Am I really off my game because of some twenty-five-year-old kid? Because he is. A fucking kid. At twenty-five he’s right there in the middle of all the shit you have to figure out before you even come close to knowing who you’re supposed to be. I remember. And just because he’s clearly been shedding his more boyish features and does seem to exude an alarming amount of testosterone, it’s hardly enough reason for me to be panting like a cougar in heat.

  Goddammit. Now I’m grinning because I used his stupid expression. Like we’re bonded or something.

  And I’m twelve.

  Grand.

  The kid is turning me into a prepubescent child as well.

  “Holy shit, she’s blushing!”

  Fucking Mouth.

  “Don’t you have fucking work to do outside of torturing me?”

  She shrugs. “Waiting on Sketch to finish up the outline. We’re tag-teaming this dude’s chest piece. Massive cock fight. Ha ha. That’s, like, our theme today.” She raises her eyebrows dramatically, her lips hitched up in a wicked grin. “Cock.”

  I can hear Princess giggle five feet over but I ignore her. I ignore them all.

  One. Two. I just need to zone in on the hum. Three. Lucas. FUCK.

  It’s after ten when our last client leaves and it’s just us girls left at the shop. I can hear Cherry and Princess laughing in the back, and I’m pretty sure they’re busy changing into something slinky while making plans for all the boys they plan to seduce tonight. Well, Princess anyway. Cherry’s not quite up to seduction. She’s still hovering in tease.

  “You two about done?” Mouth and Sketch are still in the middle of cleaning up after their joint gig. They must have spent two hours on it and they’re not even close to being finished.

  “Just about.” Sketch ties up the trash bag and lifts it out of the can, preparing to take it out back. “Don’t go anywhere. We need to talk.”

  I hadn’t planned on leaving, but now I’m tempted to make a run for it. Sketch and I have been in this together the longest. Interned at the same shop almost seventeen years ago. She’s seen me through more shit than any other person on this earth, and she knows me inside out.

  “Oh, I’m sticking around for this chat.” Mouth finishes stocking the last of the supplies and comes to lean up against the counter beside me. “Seriously, though. You okay?”

  I nod. Then shake my head. Then nod again.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.” She grins and finally I laugh.

  “You guys are going to think I’m so fucking dumb when I say it out loud.”

  Sketch walks back into the room just in time to hear me. “If it makes you feel any better, we frequently think you’re really fucking dumb even when you say nothing at all.”

  I tilt my head sideways and glare at her. “Charming.”

  “Do we need to sit down for this?” Mouth starts to clap excitedly. “Oh, do we need snacks?”

  “No!” I throw my hands up as if that could stop the madness. “It’s not even that big of a deal. You’re all blowing this way out of proportion.”

  “Then just spit it out already.” Sketch has both hands propped on her hips and I know stall time is over.

  “Fine. Lucas is back.”

  Mouth contorts her face in confusion. “Who?”

  “Lucas. As in Pru’s son, Lucas.” I run both hands through my hair as if pulling my curls back will somehow help me retrieve all the words about to fall out of my mouth. “It’s like he’s this bizarre contradiction of man and child. Like, in my brain, I’ve always labeled him as ‘kid’. I’m friends with his mom. His sisters hang with my kid. Hence, he was lumped into the kid category. I like him there. Then I saw him again and I remembered he is not a kid. He’s not built like one, he doesn’t have a face like one, and he definitely, doesn’t walk like one.” This seemed important in my mind. His walk. Nay, his swagger. He has grown ass man swagger. Not the cocky kind boys try to fake...the real kind. The confident kind.

  “Are you saying you have a thing for Pru’s son? Like, a for real thing this time?” If Sketch raises her brow any further it’ll disappear in her hairline.

  “No. I’m definitely not saying that. I’m saying...I don’t know what I’m saying.” I shake my head. “No, wait. Yes, I do. I’m saying, he makes me uncomfortable. Like, he’s making me think too much about how I need to act around him because I’m scared I’ll do something or say something completely inappropriate. Not because I want to jump his bones, but because I would treat him the same way I treat any one of the guys that comes in here. Only I can’t do that, because he’s Pru’s kid. Thus, I should treat him as such.”

  Mouth shakes her head as if it hurts. “You’re not making any sense, and that’s bad. I can usually follow your rambling bullshit no problem, but this...I’m lost.”

  “It’s the avocado predicament.” Sketch states plainly, as if that explained it all, except her explanation is going to require some explaining.

  “Care to elaborate on that?”

  She rolls her eyes like we’re idiots. “You ever go to the store to pick up some avocadoes because you’re jonesing for some fresh guac? Then you get there and find the avocado bin and you get all excited because they’re that dark, almost black color and you get all happy with anticipation because you just know you’re going to pick them up and they’re going to be perfectly ripe when you touch them? Only then you do and that motherfucker is hard as a rock? And now you’re fucked because you still want guac but your perfect looking avocados aren’t ready yet, even though at first glance, you thought they were. The outside is ripe looking...the inside is not.”

  I feel like I should stop her before she hurts herself. Or I hurt her. This is the stupidest analogy I’ve ever heard. “So, if I understand correctly, you’re comparing my sex drive to a guacamole craving and you’re saying that Lucas was just the first guy I found in the avocado bin and I got excited at the site of his ripe body, and then discovered he’d never be able to provide the guacamole I’m after. But now, I’m conflicted because I still want the guac...and he looked so tasty?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Like I said. The avocado predicament.”

  “Well, thanks. I don’t think that helped me with my problem at all, and, now I’m craving Mexican.”

  Mouth’s face lights up with mischief. “There’s always Carlos.” The guy who runs the twenty-four-hour tow truck service on the corner.

  “You’re a dumbass. I meant Mexican food. Not a Mexican.”

  “I’m saying. We all know Carlos is ripe and ready.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I start to laugh in spite of myself.

  “Thanks, but I’m still sticking to food. I’m staying on the man-free diet I’ve been on. It’s healthier for me.” And far less distracting, which is what I need. At least until Marcus disappears again.

  Lucas

  I’ve only been back for twelve days and I’m already bored out of my fucking mind. I know my mom wants nothing more than for me to just fall into step beside my dad and head off to the office where I can take my rightful spot in the family business, but I’m just not there yet. I’m not sure I ever will be.

  “Wanna go see a movie?”

  Hailey looks up at me from her bed where she’s been lying for the last three hours, buried in some romance novel or another. The girl’s been a booknerd since she was four. I’m pre
tty sure she’s the smartest one of us all, even if she does like to hide her brains behind bare chested men, ripped with muscles and covered in tattoos.

  “Do you care if I read on the way? I’ve got like fifty pages left and there’s no way I’m putting this book down before I’m done.”

  I screw my mouth up, slightly disgusted at the thought. “Depends. Are you going to be reading about people doing it while you’re sitting right next to me?”

  She shrugs. “Probably. They’ve been doing it since the first page. I don’t imagine they’re about to stop now when they’re about to admit they really do love each other.” Her eyes keep traveling back and forth over the rim of the book, moving from the page to me, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose this one if I make her choose. “So, that’s a no then?”

  I groan loudly. I just want to get out of this fucking house with another human being who isn’t me or my mother. “Fuck. Fine. But if you start moaning or licking your lips excessively, I’m throwing the book from the truck.”

  “Have you ever actually read a book, Lucas? Generally speaking, it’s a very internal experience. And I can assure you, I have read many a hot scene sitting right next to you, Ash and even Mom and Dad, and I have never so much as blushed or given any indication of the smut I was exposing myself to right under everyone’s nose.” She smirks and I realize for the first time, she’s not at all like the little girl I remember from before I left. Not that thirteen was all that little, but it sure as shit seems like it right about now.

  “Who are you?” I shake my head in disgust and pull the door shut behind her as she comes out to join me in the hall. “What happened to baby Hayes? The cute one. The one who reads books about horses.”

  “She found a book with cowboys in it and moved on.”

  We’ve barely made it two steps when Ash and Madi pop their heads out of the next room. “Where are there cowboys?”