Building Faith (Long Beach Series Book 2)

by Dani Matthews

  The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur as my mind firmly stays distracted by Ace. When my shift ends at seven, I refuse to go back to my apartment. I really do need to buy a TV or something, because that's the reason I'm taking a bus downtown tonight. There's nothing to do at home to get my mind off of Ace. Sure, Daisy can be entertaining, but sooner or later she'll go do her own thing, and I'll be left to my own thoughts. It's pointless to try reading since I'm certain my mind will wander.

  Feeling desperate for a diversion, I go out to dinner by myself. Afterwards, I take another bus further downtown so that I can window shop until I feel like going home. I'd text messaged Zoey earlier in hopes of doing something with her, but she had plans with Caleb. That leaves me to my own devices tonight. When I'd left for work this morning, I'd already had plans to stay out of the apartment for the evening, so I'd brought along a little extra cash. I figure I'll do a little shopping if anything catches my eye.

  I hop off the bus a few minutes later and begin walking down the sidewalk. It's busy out, and I dodge a few people while being careful to keep to myself. Once in a while I am prone to feeling paranoid, as if someone is watching or following me. I know it’s just my imagination, but it doesn’t stop me from being careful, so I look over my shoulder a few times as I wander into a few clothing stores. Nothing looks appealing to me; I guess I'm not exactly in the mood to buy anything.

  As I walk, I check my phone every so often, but it remains silent. I wish I knew what Ace was up to tonight. Is he thinking of me? It's really hard for me to stay away now that I have an idea about what he's dealing with. I also know that pushing him into talking before he's ready is a bad, bad idea. I'm just going to have to take it one day at a time and hope that he comes to me eventually.

  I've been walking for ten minutes when I come upon Red Gannon's. The second my eyes rest on the tattoo shop, I feel my mood brighten as the earlier feeling of being watched fades. I've been considering getting another tattoo—something that actually means something to me rather than having it simply cover a scar like the ones on my back.

  I slip inside the shop and side step a heavily tattooed guy who is heading for the exit. Loud rock music plays overhead, and I walk around a small group of girls my age and wander to the back of the shop to look at the designs on the wall. There are a few other people studying the designs, but they pay no attention to me.

  As I slowly walk along the wall, I can't resist chewing on my thumbnail contemplatively as I try to figure out what I want. It would help if I knew what the meanings were behind some of the designs. I have no idea how long I've been in the shop, but I start slightly when I turn and find Logan standing beside me.

  He grins. “Hey there. Back again already?”

  I can't help but admire how cute he is, and I distinctly remember how good it had felt when he'd kissed me. Even though I had a good time with him the night we'd gone out, I realize he doesn't leave me feeling weak in the knees like Ace does.

  I try to shove Ace out of my mind as I answer Logan's question. “I was thinking of getting another tattoo.”

  “What did you have in mind? I have an opening in about thirty minutes,” he offers as he gazes down at me with his usual interest. I have a feeling he's still kind of 'in' to me, even though he hasn't asked me out again.

  “I haven't picked anything out yet.” My eyes shift to the designs on the wall. “Nothing is really standing out to me.”

  “Where do you want it?”

  I hold out my right wrist and point to the inside of it. “Right here.”

  He nods. “What's the first thing that pops into your head when you think of getting another tattoo?”

  “Freedom,” I say instantly. “Something that means overcoming something difficult.”

  Logan's eyes flicker with realization, and I know he's probably thinking of the scars on my back. “You'll want something small. Your wrist is pretty tiny, you go too big and it'll look out of place. It should look natural where you want it. Give me a sec,” he says and walks away to one of the tables topped with binders full of designs. He picks through them until he finds the one he's looking for, and he comes back over flipping through the pages.

  “These are what come to mind when I think of what you want,” he holds the binder out to me.

  I accept it and gaze at the hummingbird designs. Some are bold and simple while others are extremely detailed and delicate. “They're beautiful,” I murmur as I study one in particular.

  “Hummingbird tattoos have many different meanings. The one that comes to my mind in particular is the symbolization of overcoming difficult times and hardships. A hummingbird can represent surpassing them,” he explains to me.

  “You just happen to know this off the top of your head?” I ask with a slight smile as I look up at him.

  “It's my job to know what certain designs mean or else I'm a shitty tattooist. Nothing like putting the wrong tat on someone if the symbolization is the opposite of what the customer wants,” he points out. Then he grins, “Plus, most women come in here wanting the girlie stuff. Hummingbirds are pretty popular right now.”

  I turn my attention back to the hummingbird designs and point to the one my eyes keep gravitating to. “How much would this one cost?”

  “Depends on the size,” he says and quotes a few prices.

  I mentally calculate how much I have on me. “You said you have an opening in thirty minutes?”

  “Yeah, I'm waiting on that chick up front to pick out her piercing. After that, I have an opening before my ten arrives.”

  “Go ahead and schedule me in.”

  Logan says he'll come find me when he's ready, and I walk over to one of the vacant sofas in the room to sit down. I lift my wrist and gaze at where the tattoo will be. I'm excited. After this one there will be no more tattoos. I have no intention of covering myself with them or coming back for more. This will be it.

  Since I haven't checked my phone in the past half hour, I can't resist pulling it out and glancing at the screen. Still nothing from Ace. I hope he's okay. I slip the phone back in my purse and try to stay positive about the situation. He'll contact me sooner or later. He won't throw away what we have, he wouldn't do that.

  * * *

  It's a girls’ night out Friday night. All the guys are going to some new nightclub downtown, and Zoey's decided she wants to go out with me and Bev. She's in my apartment to help me get ready, but in reality, she's spending more time playing with Daisy than helping me.

  I pull out a short, white dress with a flared skirt and study it critically. Would this be okay for the club Zoey’s insisting we go to? I don't really want to wear the yellow dress I wore the first night I met Ace, and I definitely don't want to wear the shorts outfit I'd worn when he'd taken me out on the motorcycle he'd borrowed. As usual, my heart aches as I think of him. It's Friday, and still no word from him. I've been trying to stay busy, and the second Zoey announced we should go out, I'd jumped on the idea.

  Tonight, I'm going to drink my sorrows away and have some fun. I need to do something to release the tension inside me. The stress of what had happened Tuesday night has just left me with an achy feeling in my gut all week.

  “Absolutely not,” Zoey's voice cuts into my thoughts.

  I glance at her. She's wearing tight, black pants tonight and a bold, red shirt that flashes her toned stomach and belly piercing if she lifts her arms too high. She's sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bedroom floor trying to get Daisy to chase some ribbons on the end of the stick she's holding. Her eyes are on the dress as she briefly ignores Daisy.

  “What's wrong with it?” I ask.

  “It's white.”

  “So?”

  She shakes her head and then turns her attention to Daisy. She picks the kitten up and kisses her on the nose. “Sorry, D, but play time is over,” she announces before she affectionately pats Daisy on the rump and sets her down. She gracefully stands up and looks at me. “Let's go to my place. I'm sure
I've got something that'll fit you.”

  “No offense, but I want to be comfortable,” I point out. “All your stuff is too short or too tight.”

  “So I'll find you something that's not too short or too tight. It should be fairly easy, I'm taller than you by at least four inches.”

  I'm about to turn down her offer when I think of the clothes in my closet. I don't really have anything I want to wear, and I'm supposed to be having fun tonight. “Okay,” I cave.

  We lock Daisy up in the bathroom, and I make sure the lock is turned in the knob of the door handle when I shut my apartment door. I follow Zoey to her apartment next door. I have a worrisome thought and ask, “The guys aren't meeting over here, are they?”

  “No, they're meeting at Jake's,” she tells me as she unlocks the door and we step inside.

  I love Zoey and Caleb's apartment. The walls are painted a brown that's hard to describe. It's not a boring brown; it has a hint of gray and burgundy to it. It looks great with the white furniture. Dark blue, gold, and burgundy pillows give the room a pop of color. There's a half table against one wall, and a few dragon statues give the room character. An artistic canvas print hangs on the far wall with all the colors of the pillows in it. The way their apartment is set up is way different than how mine looks. Sooner or later, I really need to add some décor or something, especially since I have no intention of moving back to Harrison.

  We enter the bedroom, and I try not to pay attention to the large bed that dominates one wall, or the fact that they've got a set of large mirrors on the other. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out they like to watch what they're doing in bed.

  Zoey opens up a closet that is jam packed with clothes. She starts digging.

  “You have like five wardrobes in there,” I muse.

  She glances over her shoulder at me. “I've made up for lost time this past year.” She shrugs and turns away. “I didn't enjoy much of anything until I met Caleb. He's renewed my passion to live life, and I'm definitely enjoying it.” She pulls out something that's slinky and silver dangling from a hanger. “Here, this would look hot on you. Especially since it's backless, you can show off your tattoos.”

  I accept the scrap of silver and eye it critically. “This is a shirt?”

  “Yeah. Take your tank and bra off,” she says, stepping towards me.

  “My bra too?” I ask, frowning.

  “Just trust me.”

  I slip off my shirt and hesitate with my bra. I've never undressed in front of her before.

  Zoey reads my expression and rolls her eyes. “I have a pair of my own, you know. It's not like you've got something that I haven't ever seen.”

  Well, now I'm feeling a bit prudish. I reluctantly slip off my bra, and Zoey barely even glances at my breasts. She helps me figure out how to put the shirt on, and then she secures it behind my neck.

  “Go look in the mirror,” she tells me.

  I walk over to the large mirrors and see that the silver material hangs down my front in a satiny, cowl neck, effectively hiding my now braless breasts. I turn and peer over my shoulder. The halter top is backless, and my tattoos are bared to anyone that'll be walking behind me tonight.

  “We should put your hair up, too. Do you mind?” Zoey asks.

  I have to admit I like the shirt. “Sure.”

  “I have a pair of black dress shorts that should fit you nicely since they're pretty snug on me. Let's get you changed; then I'll do your hair.” Zoey turns away and goes back to her closet. “By the way, I totally dig that new tattoo on your wrist. Logan did a good job,” she says over her shoulder.

  “Thanks, I think so, too.”

  We spend about thirty minutes fussing with my hair and makeup. My freckles get covered, and I know Ace would hate it. He's not with me tonight, so in the end, it doesn't really matter.

  By the time we get to the club, Bev is already there and waiting. I try hard not to feel a bit of jealousy and resentment towards the other woman since she's been with Ace. It bothers me, but I have to remind myself that they hooked up before I ever met Ace. I have no right to feel jealous.

  Bev buys us shots, and I don't bother holding back. After three shots of the nastiest stuff I've ever swallowed, I'm feeling pretty good and agreeing to go dance. Dancing is pretty easy when you're buzzin' hard. I get my groove on and even dance with a few guys. I don't let them get too grabby with me, and when they try to, I put an end to dancing with them.

  When midnight rolls around, I realize I can't even walk straight, and I am giggling as if everything in the world is suddenly hilarious. Zoey and I are sitting at the table while Bev orders some mixed drinks at the bar.

  Zoey peers at me. “Aw, I got you trashed,” she realizes as she looks crestfallen. “I forget you're not used to drinking.”

  “I have to pee,” I announce to no one particular. My bladder is about to explode.

  Her eyebrows lift. “Yes, let's hit the restrooms. I think when you're done, we'll flag a cab and get you home. No more alcohol for you tonight, or you'll never go out with me again. I don't want you puking your guts out all day tomorrow,” she says as she rises to her feet and helps me stand up.

  I trip over my own foot, and Zoey keeps me from falling. A groan escapes me as the world spins slightly. “Just let me pee and dump me in a cab. Don't waste part of your night riding back with me when you can stay here,” I mumble to her.

  “I don't think you'll make it to your door on your own,” Zoey laughs.

  This earns her an indignant look from me. “All I have to do is use the elevator, press two, walk down the hall to my door—which is still number 17C, unless they changed it while I was gone. How hard can that be?”

  Thirty minutes later, I am kicking myself for insisting on being independent in my drunken state. I try the knob on my door for the millionth time and groan. It's locked, and I don't recall grabbing my key off my dresser. Unfortunately, my spare is in Zoey and Caleb's apartment. I talked Zoey into continuing her night with Bev, and Caleb is out with the guys.

  I'm too tired to stand on my feet any longer, so I turn my back to lean against the door and slowly slide down it until my butt hits the floor. Sooner or later, Zoey and Caleb will show up.

  I wake with a groggy start to the realization that someone has picked me up and is carrying me. Fear shoots through me, causing my heart rate to pick up as I immediately begin to struggle.

  “It's me, Angel,” I hear a familiar voice reassure. That's when I smell the scent of Ace's cologne and recognize the rock-hard chest I'm resting against. I relax in his arms and force my heavy eyelids open. I blink hazily as I note that he's carrying me into his apartment. I'm gently set on the couch, then I see Ace squatting in front of me, frowning. “What were you doing sitting outside your apartment?”

  I can't help but give him a loopy smile. “I've missed you.”

  His frown turns into a scowl as he leans closer to me. I think he's going to kiss me until he inhales deeply. “Are you drunk?”

  “Trashed,” I correct as I fight back a yawn. “I got locked out.”

  “Locked out of your apartment? Don't you have your key?”

  “It's on my dresser. Caleb and Zoey have my spare,” I frown as I try to use my toe to pull off my high heel on my other foot. It's not cooperating.

  “Stop,” Ace orders, putting his hand on my thigh to get me to look at him. His expression is more than a little pissed off, causing me to stare at him with surprise. “Where is Zoey?” he asks slowly and distinctly, like he's just barely holding on to his temper.

  “At the club,” I tell him. “I insisted on getting a cab and coming home on my own.” I smile at him brightly. “Independence, remember?”

  Ace sighs and runs a hand over his jaw as he studies me. “It's hard telling when they'll get back. You want to crash on the sofa?”

  “If I can get my shoes off,” I mumble as I try to kick one off.

  “Babe, they buckle. They ain't sliding off with ju
st a push of your toe,” he says patiently as he picks up one foot and unbuckles the shoe easily. He sets it aside and turns his attention to my other foot and removes the shoe. “Better?” he asks as he runs his hand over my right foot, rubbing the arch slightly.

  I release a small moan and collapse against the back of the couch. “Don't stop. That feels good.”

  Ace mutters a curse under his breath and stands up to lean over me. “I think it's time you go to sleep. Here, lie down.” He pushes on my shoulder, and I allow him to ease me down until I'm on my side. My eyes immediately drift shut. “Faith? Do you mind if I hold you?” he asks quietly as he loosens my hair from its up-do before brushing a strand away from my ear.

  “I'd like that,” I murmur drowsily.

  I'm almost asleep when I feel Ace gently ease a pillow under my head. He climbs onto the sofa behind me, and a light blanket settles over us. One of his arms slips beneath me and the other wraps around me, enveloping me in his embrace.

  I feel safe and protected—exactly where I want to be.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Ace

  I'm having the most amazing dream about Faith's little ass when I wake up to the reality of it pressed against my groin. I fight back a groan as I lie behind her on the couch, struggling to erase the dream from my mind as I enjoy the feel of her sweet body curving into mine.

  “Her boob's hanging out,” I hear Jeremy muse from somewhere directly in front of us.

  My eyes pop open, and I lift my head slightly to peer blearily at Jeremy. He's standing in front of the couch, arms crossed while his eyes are focused on Faith's chest with appreciation.

  What the...?

  I ease up slightly and peer over her shoulder. Sure enough, the poor excuse of a shirt she's wearing is gaping open, and one of her small breasts is bared to Jeremy's prying eyes. Irritation sweeps through me as I reach over and adjust the material to hide the tiny, pink bud and the swell of her tit.