Love, Me: A Pleasant Valley Novel

by Anna Brooks

  “I’ll go take care of it.” Without another word, I brush past Polly and hightail it out of the kitchen to escape the embarrassing situation. That’s never happened before. Nothing like that has ever happened to me.

  I’ve never completely forgotten Bryan. Not what he looks like, or what his voice sounds like, or how his laughter lit up an entire room. His energy was almost too much sometimes, but it was who he was. He was the man who loved me so much he said it hurt him; it physically pained him to think about what he would feel like if we weren’t together.

  Vaughn is the complete opposite. He’s calm. And quiet. When he walks into a room, people notice him, too, but not because he’s loud. He has an air about him that screams confidence. Why am I even comparing them?

  Polly comes out of the back to bus some tables, and I finish cashing out a couple of customers then check on a table before I head back to the kitchen to clean up. I’ve taken a few deep breaths and feel much better now.

  When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Vaughn cleaning out the sink. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No big deal.”

  “Thank you.”

  His mouth opens to say something at the same time his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his back pocket and glances at the screen before shoving it back in. “I’ve gotta go. My appointment is here.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you around, Rayne.” He stops right before he passes me and smiles then pushes through the doors. A few seconds later, I hear the chimes on the front door, and Polly comes back with a mischievous grin on her face.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Just wondering why the hot guy from next door had his hands all over you, is all.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “He was just helping me out of the way, his sand— Shit! He didn’t get to eat.”

  “Relax.” She pats my arm. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a delivery.”

  The front door chimes again, and we both head out front to take care of the rest of the customers. For the next two hours, my mind jumps back and forth between what I’m supposed to be doing and a man I shouldn’t be thinking about.

  I rub the ring on my chain to refocus then begin the closing duties. Before I put away all the ingredients, I make another sandwich for Vaughn and walk out with Polly. She waves her fingers at me before I turn and go to the door beside my restaurant.

  When I push through Vaughn’s place, I’m shocked to see the inside already up and running what appears to be smoothly. Only a couple of weeks ago, I happened to peek through the window to find the inside was empty. A tattoo machine buzzes from the back, and rock music plays through the speakers. The black and red chairs blend in with the dark floor, and pictures of tattooed bodies cover the walls.

  I don’t want to interrupt whatever he’s doing, so I wander around and examine the artwork. Some of the pictures are beautiful, some gory, and others are so realistic I have to squint my eyes in order to find the small lines that give away the fact that it’s a tattoo and not a photo.

  I wander around some more, and after about ten minutes, I begin to walk toward the back. “Hello?”

  The buzzing stops, and right as I’m about to turn the corner, Vaughn walks around it and almost runs into me. “Whoa.” He laughs. “What are you doing here?”

  I take a step back and hold out a paper bag. “You never got to eat.”

  “Oh, thanks.” He takes the bag and looks at my other hand containing the deposit. “Is that the money from your drawer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were going to wait for me to finish up so I could walk you out, right?” He raises a dark brow.

  “Umm.”

  “Rayne?” Ugh, it’s killing me that just hearing my name roll off his tongue causes my belly to tighten.

  “Yes?”

  “Good.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him down the hall. “I only have about a half an hour left, and then I can walk you out.”

  When we get into the room, I smile shyly at the man sitting shirtless on a black leather chair lifted into the air a couple of feet.

  “Lenny, this is Rayne. You okay if she sits in here while I finish up?”

  “Sure, man.”

  “Hi.” I wave.

  He gives me a head nod as Vaughn pulls a chair away from the wall. I sit down, and Vaughn puts on a pair of black gloves then continues to ink the design on Lenny’s arm.

  “You have any tats?” Vaughn asks me.

  I clear my throat. “No.”

  “Want any?”

  When I was younger, I used to. “No.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll change your mind.”

  He seems to think he can be persuasive on several things, but I’m going to prove him wrong. I think. “No, you won’t.”

  “If Vaughn Morris offers to tattoo you, little lady, don’t turn it down,” Lenny chimes in, his deep voice echoing in the small room.

  “Why? Is he good or something?”

  “There is no or something about it.” He nods at his arm. “He’s the best.”

  “Really?” I cross my legs.

  “I’m not going to force you to get a tat, but the offer’s always open, darlin’.” Vaughn cuts off Lenny and gives him a look clearly telling him to shut up.

  Deciding to lighten the mood and the tension quickly filling it, I tell him, “Well, if I ever change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “You’d better.” Vaughn does something that pauses the buzzing and pins me with an expression that’s either meant to melt my panties or warn me. Or both. “I don’t want anyone else touching your skin but me.”

  My lips part, and through the small breaths I’m trying to take, I manage to nod. Everything that comes out of this guy’s mouth screams sex, and he makes me realize how much I miss it. God, I miss sex. And I hate him for that. Or maybe I like him for that. Hell, I don’t know what to think around him.

  He resumes tattooing, and we all continue with idle chitchat for about forty minutes as he finishes. Lenny hands over a large wad of cash to Vaughn and says goodbye before leaving.

  “I just need a few minutes to clean up. Why don’t you wait up front, and I’ll meet you there?”

  “Sure.”

  I sit on one of the chairs and flip through a magazine for a minute until he appears, walking and eating his sandwich at the same time. “Ready?” he asks after he swallows.

  “Yes, but sit down and finish eating. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “You sure?”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

  He sits in the chair across from me and devours his food. “You know how to make a fuckin’ sandwich.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How long have you worked at the restaurant?”

  A soft smile pulls my lips upward. “The question is when haven’t I worked at the restaurant. My parents have owned it for twenty years, and I literally grew up there.”

  He licks the tip of his finger. “I’m glad I decided to move into this place. Best decision ever.”

  I laugh, and we both get up to leave once he’s finished.

  He follows me and tosses his bag in the trash, shuts off the lights and music, and then closes and locks the door behind us. Two men linger at the end of the sidewalk smoking cigarettes, likely from the bar at the corner two doors down from me. Vaughn wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me tight against his side.

  Aside from Kennedy and Brad—who are like brothers to me—and the occasional gay man at the club—who don’t count—nobody’s had their hands on me since Bryan. I haven’t allowed it. I thought I’d never allow it.

  When I try to pull away a bit, Vaughn’s grip only gets tighter. “No way.”

  I give in and let him have his way because, in all honesty, it does creep me out when I have to walk out here alone and people from the bar are standing outside. Usually, I’m able to leave early enough that if someone is outside, they’re not drunk yet.

>   The other option is to walk out of the back of the restaurant, but since there’s an alley and a dumpster, I refuse to be there by myself. Bad shit happens in alleys.

  As we pass the guys, I’m thankful for the man next to me, and for the first time in two years, I allow myself this moment of security. Kennedy and Brad comfort me in their own way. The way a best friend does when they see you hurting. But this is different with Vaughn. Unexpected.

  And it pisses me off that I like it.

  I hit the key fob on my key chain, and when the lights flash on my car, Vaughn reaches it before me and opens my door. I toss in my purse and the money then lean against the doorframe. I don’t trust myself around him, so I need to push him away. I haven’t broken my promise to Bryan yet, and no way am I going to do it with a guy I barely know. “So what’s your deal?”

  “What?”

  Might as well just get it out there. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  His laughter catches me off guard, and I cross my arms.

  “I got that when you slapped me across the face. I said I was a dick, and I meant it. I’m not gonna lie; I’d love to get you under me, but if you don’t want me takin’ you there, then I ain’t gonna beg, sweetheart. I’m not the one who begs in my bed.” He shifts his feet, and I swallow loudly. “Believe it or not, I actually think you’re pretty cool, and I like being around you. Plus, if you’re friends with Brad, I know you’re good people. I only moved back a little while ago, and as much as I like Brad and Kenny, I’m never going back to a gay bar again. Just thought it might be cool for us to hang out sometime.”

  I want to believe him, and a part of me wishes I could allow him in my life. Should I risk it? No, I can’t. Vaughn is somehow fogging my mind already, and it needs to stop. Plus, for Bryan, I can’t take the chance. When he comes back, I don’t want him to think I wasn’t true to my words.

  “I don’t need any more friends, Vaughn.”

  His eyes flash disappointment. “Wow. Okay.” He bites his lower lip. “That’s fine.” When he begins to back away, a rock forms in my stomach. I reach for him, but he jerks his arm out of my grasp.

  I didn’t mean to make him feel bad. Shit, I’m not good at this. I wasn’t expecting him. I didn’t prepare for him. “Vaughn.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’d probably be better if you stayed away . . . for your own good.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He lights a cigarette and tucks the pack back in his pocket. “It means whatever shit you’re hiding from might actually surface if you admitted it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “If I admitted what?”

  “That there’s something here.” He motions between us. “That you want me just as badly as I want you.”

  Is he a mind reader or something? This is why I can’t with him. “I don’t want you.”

  “Do too.”

  “No.” I cross my arms. “I don’t.”

  “Okay, Rainey girl. Since we’re not friends, I won’t tell you to have a good night.” He then turns and walks away and gets into a beat-up old pickup. Any denial that I’m attracted to this man vanishes when I watch him ride away, not once turning to look back at me. Shit.

  My fingers shake as I grab my phone and dial Bryan.

  “Hey, it’s Bryan. I can’t answer because I’m doing something awesome, so leave a message.”

  “Hi. I umm . . . I was just calling early today. I wanted to remind you that I love you. That’s . . . that’s all. Okay, bye.”

  Chapter 4

  Vaughn

  I get home and toss my keys on the wobbly table just inside my door. I’m renting a studio apartment a few blocks from the tattoo shop. It’s a decent place, kind of small, but it’s got a small nook right by the window, and I use that for sketching. The natural light is a big bonus, so as soon as I saw that, I knew I wanted this place.

  As I go through the mail, the card I sent falls to the floor, and I reach down to pick it up. I wish the fact it’s unopened surprised me, but this is what happens every single time I send a card to my mom. There are no tape marks on the envelope like maybe the words inside wanted to be read.

  My own mother. She doesn’t read my letters. The curiosity never gets the better of her. And this year for her birthday is no different. So I do what I’ve done every year since I was fifteen. I open up the card and dial her number. It rings four times before the answering machine picks up.

  “You know the drill. I’m going to read what I wrote on your card.” I clear my throat before reciting the words on the inside.

  Mom,

  Happy birthday. I hope you have a great day.

  Are you doing okay? I worry about that all the time.

  If you ever change your mind . . . I’m always here. I’m sorry, Mom. So fucking sorry. I can’t change things. I can’t take them back. I wish, for once, you’d just sit down and talk to me about it. Just once, Mom. Please.

  I moved back to town, as you can tell from the return address. Don’t worry, though, I won’t stop by. I know how you feel about me visiting.

  I will always have this number if you want to get hold of me. I’ll never change it. Take care of yourself.

  Love,

  Me.

  * * *

  Ever since I left my mom that voicemail yesterday, I’ve been in a shit mood. I’m a twenty-six-year-old man who misses his mommy. How pathetic is that? It was probably stupid for me to move back here. I should go back to the South, but now that I’ve met Rayne, I don’t want to leave until I find out more about her.

  She’s lying through her damn teeth, and as much as it stings that she said she doesn’t want to even be friends, I’m willing to hold out for her, because something’s . . . there.

  My neck is stiff from working all day, and I’m almost done with a large flower pattern on a big-chested blonde. She asked, and I agreed to go grab a drink with her afterward. I know the only reason I did is to prove something to myself since Rayne’s rejection, and I also know I’m a damn idiot.

  Since I finally got my security system installed, when the front door beeps, I look up from the tattoo I’m wrapping up and see on the monitor Rayne standing inside. A smile forms on my mouth, but then I remember our conversation, and I forcefully flatten my lips.

  “Once you get your shirt back on, you can meet me out front, all right?”

  My client Tracie didn’t need to take off her top; I could have easily done the side tat with it just pushed up. It’s not the first time, though, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. If I said I never took advantage of the offers I received after tattooing a woman, I’d be lying.

  She nods. “Okay.”

  The gloves slap against my skin as I pull them off, and when I walk around the corner, Rayne smiles and quickly holds out a bag. “Peace offering. I was a bitch.”

  It takes seeing her again to question myself. She looks genuinely sad right now, and as much as I want to take her peace offering, I think it actually might be better if we just left it as we did last night.

  She might be cute, and she might have a body to die for. Hell, a part of me thought, just for a split second, that we could hang out. I felt like such an asshole for coming on to her at the club, and if I had known she was Kenny’s best friend, I never would have touched her.

  But I did touch her. And fuck me, I loved it. Her body molded against mine, and it felt so damn good. She smelled delicious, and her skin tasted so sweet. She was—no, she is—the perfect remedy. I just want to be consumed by her.

  If that wasn’t enough for me to want to get to know her, she got all sassy with me. I loved it. I love that she slapped me and that she doesn’t just put out. Easy is good . . . but man, it’s boring. And Rayne is not boring at all. She’s intriguing.

  I’m not the kind of man who wants a challenge in a woman. I want easy. I want fast. And she’s none of those things. Hell, she’s more than all of those things combined. My heart softened for a moment, and I ac
tually thought . . . I don’t know. I’m just missing the connections that have been severed for eleven years. A desperation I’ve been seeking clawed its way out of the corner it’s been hidden in. Momentary stupidity, I guess.

  “Yeah, you were. But that’s okay. No hard feelings.”

  When I don’t take her sandwich, even though I want to because I’m starving and I know it’ll be amazing, she sets it on the counter, twirls what appears to be a class ring on her necklace, and looks at the floor before making eye contact with me again. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t want any friends either, Rayne. It was my mistake. I just felt like a dick for the way I treated you, and because you’re Kenny’s best friend, I didn’t want hard feelings.” My tone leaves no room for argument, but I can’t take the fucking hurt in her eyes. It’s brief, it’s subtle, but it’s there. She’s upset.

  “Oh, well. I umm . . .” Her voice trails off, and her eyes widen as a pair of heels clicks across the floor.

  Tracie links her arm through mine. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll just go, and umm, see ya later.” Rayne darts out, and her long auburn hair sways across her back as she disappears outside. With the goddamned moneybag under her arm.

  Fuck.

  “Come on.” Tracie tugs at my arm.

  A huge spiral of guilt bangs around in my chest. Fear. Anxiety. Fucking stupidity. “I can’t anymore.”

  She purses her cherry red lips. “What? Why not? You just said two seconds ago that you were ready to go.”

  “I forgot about an appointment.”

  “Oh, well. Here.” She leans over me, brushing her large tits against my arm. Grabbing a pen from the desk, she writes her number on a piece of paper. “Call me.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  As soon as she’s out the door, I toss her number in the trash. She hasn’t known me long enough to care if I call her or not. She’ll go out tonight and find another man to bring home, and I’ll be long forgotten. I shut everything off and turn on the alarm and lock the door. It’s almost four, so I doubt Rayne’s still anywhere around, but I hope I can catch her.