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by Sophia Gray


  “Okay, that’s a start. Do you want to tell me more about the divorce? Why does the divorce make you want a tattoo?” If she already had tattoos, it would have made perfect sense to get something new to commemorate that change in her life, but something had to have changed with the divorce to make her want her first tattoo.

  She took a deep breath, and then she told me all about her ex-husband and their son. “He has him every other weekend, but begrudgingly, you know? I think he only takes him because he knows I can’t stand letting him see Micah at all.”

  She told me about how he was controlling and manipulative and had made it known that anything slightly out of the norm wouldn’t fly with him. Of course, talking to someone with as much ink as I had, his definition of norm was very different from mine. I lived in a world of tattoos, piercings, and body modifications of all kinds.

  “Did he have any tattoos?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “None. He thought they looked trashy.”

  “Do you think they look trashy?” I held out one of my arms so she could look at the work I’d had done on my sleeve. It wasn’t complete – since I wasn’t going to fill my arm in just to say I’d done it.

  “I’ve seen people with trashy tattoos, but I’ve seen people with amazing tattoos like yours. There’s something free and liberating about them, I think, and that’s why I want to get one. I’m finally free to live life on my terms, so it’s time to start doing it. The tattoo is going to be my first act of independence,” she said confidently.

  “Now you’re speaking my language,” I cheered. She was fresh blood and appeared like she’d lived a sheltered life, but she seemed ready to venture out of her comfort zone. Talking about finding her independence and being liberated made her sound a lot like people who wound up in the MC. I wondered how the hell I got so lucky.

  “Everything in my life has been so prescribed, you know? I went to school, went to college, got married, had a kid. I worked until Micah was born, and then my ex told me I didn’t have to go back to work, which, for him, meant that he didn’t want me to. Now I’m working again and trying to adjust to being a single parent. I did everything I was supposed to do, everything that was expected of me, and here I am,” she gushed.

  “What do you do?” I asked.

  “I’m a librarian. I work full-time at the library. It’s what I did before Micah was born, so I went right back to it when I was released from being a housewife.”

  “So, you’re the lady who sits behind the big desk and shushes people,” I said with a chuckle. Man, if she’s the librarian, I need to start going to the library more.

  “Hey, now, there are other duties, but yeah, pretty much. Doesn’t that sound exciting?” She clapped her hands in mock excitement.

  “Libraries are important,” I told her. “You’re fighting the good fight by working there.”

  “Thanks. I do love it, in general, but when I look back at the choices I’ve made, it’s just another quiet, safe decision that doesn’t make any ripples, in my life or anyone else’s. I want to make some ripples.”

  There was a fire in her eyes when she looked at me. There was a wild streak in her, and she wanted desperately to let it out. I wanted to be the one to let it out for her. I wanted to help her and guide her. So what if she had a kid? Kids were alright. I could deal with a boy. She may have thought her life was boring, but I could tell she wasn’t.

  “We can definitely make some ripples,” I told her.

  I took away the binder of flash art and opened the binder of work I’d done and turned to a photo of a quote I’d tattooed on someone’s side. It was a paragraph they’d pulled from a book. There were a few different variations of the same theme on that page, and I hoped she’d find something she liked there. I’d never wanted to impress a woman so badly.

  “Oh, wow,” she said as soon as she saw it.

  “I don’t remember the author or the book – something I’d never heard of. And come to think of it, I meant to read it after they told me. Guess I should have gone to the library to pick it up, huh?”

  She blushed. Score. She didn’t say anything in response, but she looked over the pictures of the passages and quotes I’d done like she was finally starting to get an idea of what she might want.

  “I was thinking maybe you’d like something like this – a meaningful passage that you feel maybe represents you, this stage of your life, or whatever.”

  “I don’t know,” she said with reluctance. “Maybe I should have thought this through a little more.” I saw she was starting to get overwhelmed again, just as she had been outside. I knew if I didn’t make a move, she was going to leave, and I’d never see her again.

  “Well, if you need more time to think about it, I understand. If you’d like, we could get together sometime and talk about it. Maybe over coffee or a few drinks?” I suggested.

  She looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take up too much of your time. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. I really should be going,” she said, her words coming out frantically, as she shoved the binder into my hands and got up from the bench.

  By the time I closed the binder and stood up to follow her, she was out the door. Her friend was right behind her, hurrying to catch up and shooting me a nasty look. I had been too eager, and it had cost me not only a customer but a chance with the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.

  A handful of eyes in the shop turned to me. I just shrugged and put the binders back in their spot along the wall. As I started back towards my workstation, I noticed a small purse sitting on the floor underneath the bench. I hadn’t noticed that she’d been carrying a purse when she came in, but I knew it was hers in that inexplicable way that everything just makes sense sometimes.

  Chapter Three

  Lilah

  “What happened in there?” Jenna asked on the ride home.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, already feeling embarrassed for overreacting.

  “I’m not going to take that for an answer. One minute you’re talking to him about tattoos and going on and on about your divorce, and the next, you’re running out of the shop. What the hell?”

  “He asked me out,” I admitted.

  “Okay, and…” she responded, like it was nothing.

  “And what? Isn’t that weird enough?”

  “You’ve been saying you wanted to change your life up. Now’s the chance,” she argued.

  I looked out the window as we drove out of the city. She was right. Cole, the owner of the tattoo parlor, could have offered me a great opportunity to get out of my comfort zone. But it was kind of like that tattoo. I wasn’t quite ready to take that next step yet.

  Maybe I’d been lying to myself the whole time, and I wasn’t really going to make any changes. Maybe I was going to continue doing the same things I had always done. Maybe I needed to forget the whole thing and go back to the life I’d been leading. I had a son to think about. I didn’t need to be getting mixed up with all of that out there.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jenna prodded.

  “I just freaked out. I don’t even know why. Too much at one time maybe? I’m sorry, you probably think I’m a wreck.” Tears of frustration threatened to fall from my eyes.

  “No, really, it’s okay. You’re right. It is a lot to try to change at one time. But take it easy on yourself, okay?” she said, reassuring me. “No one said you had to do this overnight, or even at all.”

  I laughed. “I feel like a wimp.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I went in there to try to prove something to myself, but when the opportunity presented itself to me, I balked. I ran. Literally. I turned and nearly sprinted out the door.”

  “I’ll admit, it was a little drastic, but don’t beat yourself up. That’s not going to help at all,” she said, continuing to talk me up and encourage me.

  We arrived at my house and pul
led up the driveway. It was a small white house with a yard for Micah to play in. My ex had left it to me in the divorce, claiming he never liked it anyway. He said he’d only bought it so we’d have room to raise a family.

  “Good luck handling that mortgage without me,” he’d told me at the final divorce hearing when we’d signed off on the final draft of our divorce papers. Luckily, the mortgage payments were low enough that my salary at the library was able to cover them.

  “Are you going to be okay to stay alone?” Jenna asked as she parked behind my car.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for putting up with me this evening. Maybe next time, I’ll actually do it.”

  “Don’t sweat it. See you tomorrow?”

  I reached down to grab my purse. “Uh-oh. I think I did something worse than embarrass myself by running out of there.”

  “What?” She looked over at my seat.

  “I left my purse.” As if the evening needed to get any worse. I tilted my head back and groaned.

  “We can go back if you need to?” Jenna offered.

  “You don’t mind? I don’t have a spare key.” And even if I did, my car key and the keys to the library were on there. I might have managed to get into the house without my keys, but I wasn’t going anywhere else after that.

  She laughed. “I don’t mind. Maybe we can stop and grab a bite to eat on the way back.”

  She put the car in reverse and started to back out of the driveway, but at the same time, a motorcycle pulled up and turned down the driveway, coming up behind us.

  “Who is that?” I asked, squinting through the glare of the headlights at the man on the bike. “Oh, my God, is that the guy?”

  “You mean, the dude you were talking to?” Jenna replied.

  “Yeah, I think it is. We may not need to go back after all.” I tried to hide my excitement. I didn’t want it to be too obvious that I was thankful to get another opportunity to talk to the owner of the tattoo parlor. Not to mention I was impressed that he was enough of a gentleman to bring my purse to me.

  “Well, if you’re fine, I think I’ll leave you two alone,” Jenna said with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows.

  My heart fluttered. I had been reaching for the door to get out, but I hesitated. I still wasn’t completely sure it was a good idea to be left alone with him. Jenna picked up on it.

  “Don’t worry. Don’t let yourself freak out again, okay? You’ll be fine. Thank him for bringing your purse back. Maybe invite him in for a few minutes before he has to run back to the shop. He’s obviously into you, and it’s painfully obvious from where I’m sitting that you’re into him. You know, he’s also got the whole chivalry thing going on by figuring out your address and bringing your purse to you instead of hoping you’d show back up,” she explained.

  I glanced over my shoulder. He’d pulled off into the yard, getting out of the way of Jenna’s Mazda MX-5 Miata. When he got off his bike, I had the opportunity to check out his body, and I had to admit that he looked good. I needed to get over my fear and talk to him.

  “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I told her, exhaling dramatically to calm myself. “Text me when you get home.” I realized at that moment that my phone was in my purse, too.

  I got out and walked around the front of the car as she backed out of the driveway. He was off the bike and pulling the purse out of one of the saddlebags in the back. He didn’t seem to notice that I was walking over to him.

  “You forgot your purse – I got your address off your driver’s license. I hope that was okay?” he said, handing it over to me as I made my way to him.

  “Yes, of course, thank you,” I replied graciously. “And thanks for bringing it to me. That’s really nice of you. Want to come in for a drink or something?” I turned slightly and pointed my thumb over my shoulder at the house.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I should probably get back to the shop soon.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll only keep you a minute, then, so you can get back soon. How’s that sound?” I persisted. I was nervous, but I wasn’t freaking out. Now that he was here and we were talking, I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” He held up a gloved hand, telling me to lead the way. My eyes ran down the muscles in his arm, taking in his shape and his ink. He was a beautiful man.

  “I don’t have much to drink,” I said as we got to the door. I fished my keys out of the purse and unlocked it, letting us into my home.

  “That’s fine. Whatever you’ve got will do,” he said.

  I led him through the living room and around to my kitchen where he pulled out one of the chairs to sit at the table. After unceremoniously throwing my purse on the table, I opened the fridge to see what I had, knowing I only had a couple of things to drink. I hadn’t really kept any alcohol in the house since the divorce. I’d focused on keeping drinks for Micah, not so much for entertaining guests.

  “How about some lemonade? I don’t actually have anything stronger to offer,” I said, pulling out a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade I had made the night before. There was only enough left for a couple of glasses anyway.

  The tough-looking biker sitting at my table chuckled. “Lemonade’s good,” he said. He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. He didn’t look threatening at all.

  I poured us two glasses and put the empty pitcher in the sink. I walked over and set the glasses on the table, then sat in a chair across from him.

  “Cole, right?” I made sure I remembered his name correctly.

  He took a sip of the lemonade before answering. “That’s right. That’s good lemonade, Lilah. Really good.” He sounded amazed. Then again, being a tough tattooed biker, I had no idea when he’d last had any lemonade. It probably wasn’t hard enough for his tastes.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. It’s all I really have to offer as thanks for helping me. I wish I knew what else to do.”

  “You can let me take you out sometime,” he said.

  And there it was again, the moment of panic. I wanted to live a life without boundaries – since the boundaries I’d lived with for so long had been so tight – but I was terrified. The dangerous-looking man in front of me thrilled me, and I could already see myself falling for him easily. He had the most gorgeous eyes and a welcoming smile. He was obviously a gentleman when he wanted to be, if not all the time, but I was certain he turned up the machismo when he needed to.

  I didn’t want to fall in love with anyone. I didn’t want to find myself in another situation where my life would be limited either self-imposed or otherwise. I certainly wasn’t ready to introduce my boy to a man who wasn’t his father. I didn’t even know how that was supposed to work.

  “Just one date,” I told him. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit to more than that.”

  “I understand. Like you said back at the shop, you are recently divorced, and you’re just now trying to take control. All I’m asking for is one date. If you decide you want more than that afterward, that’s on you.” He winked.

  A slow, wide smile spread across my face, and I felt myself blushing. I had just agreed to let Cole take me out. He was nothing like anyone I had ever dated before. Just by accepting his offer, things were already changing for me.

  “Maybe we can talk a little more about tattoos, and you can show me more of yours,” I said.

  “Maybe, but I should probably get back to the office. In the meantime, you keep thinking about what you want. I would be honored to be the artist you trust for your first tattoo,” he said.

  I pulled my phone out and looked at the time. I had to let him go. Micah was going to be home soon. He stayed over at a friend’s house some afternoons after school, and they’d agreed to bring him home on their way back from dinner.

  “I’d like that, too,” I said without thinking, distracted by my thoughts of my son. I didn’t want anyone coming up and seeing the motorcycle in the yard. It wasn’t that I
was ashamed that I was talking to a biker or even a tattoo artist, but I didn’t want to explain why anyone had been by at all. It was my business, and I wasn’t ready for anyone to know. It was enough that Jenna had an idea of what was going on.

  We got up from the table, and I walked him to the door. He walked in front of me, giving me a great shot of his vest with all his patches on it. He had a logo on the back that looked like a skeleton riding a motorcycle with a jagged blade behind its head. The words around it said Steel Devils.

  “Are you in a motorcycle club?” I asked.

  “I am. Steel Devils MC,” he replied, turning around as he stepped out of my door. “Ever been on a bike?”

  “No way.” I shook my head.

  He nodded. “Didn’t think so. Maybe I’ll take you riding sometime. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lilah, and I’ll see you soon. I hope you and your boy have a good night.”

 

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