[Montgomery Ink 00.5 - 01.0] Box Set

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “Did you take a pic?”

  “Sure as fuck did.” Austin laughed. “I’ll text it to you in a bit. Fine piece of work if I do say so myself. I was bored and didn’t feel like walking anywhere to grab a bite. Figured I’d call and see how you’re doing. We didn’t get to talk much when you were up for Christmas.”

  Almost the entire Montgomery clan lived up in the Denver area. Shep was one of the few who had ventured out. Though he and Austin were the closest and the same age, when Shep had gone up for the holidays, he didn’t have that much time for his favorite cousin. Oh no. Between Austin’s seven siblings, Shep’s three siblings, the other Montgomery cousins, plus all the aunts, uncles, and parents, the holidays were a bitch, giving him no time to breathe.

  “Yeah, it sucked that we couldn’t get together much when I was up there. You should come down here for a visit. Come see the color and culture. Put it in your ink.”

  Austin and his sister Maya owned Montgomery Ink, a shop in Denver and were hella good at what they did. The three of them frequently went around the country to see what inspiration they could find and what they could translate into their work.

  Maybe he needed to do that again and find that thing he was looking for.

  Whatever the hell that thing was.

  “Maybe,” Austin hedged, causing Shep to frown. “We’ll see.”

  “What’s up, man?”

  “Nothing. Just getting old.”

  Shep snorted. “Tell me about it. We’re the same age, remember? What’s going on?”

  Austin sighed. “Fuck it. I’ll come down there. Leave Maya alone with the shop for a bit. God knows she likes to be by herself with the place most days.”

  Shep smiled at Austin’s description of Maya. Fuck knew Austin was right.

  “I’m here when you come down. You know I have the guest room you can bunk in. We’re not kids anymore where you have to find a futon or couch.”

  “Thank God for that. Thanks, man.”

  Shep smiled. “You’re welcome. I think we’re just hitting the age where we’re too old to figure out what the hell we want but know we need to find it someway.”

  “Maybe, Shep. Maybe.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Shep ended the call, feeling a bit better that his cousin was coming down soon. They’d finalize plans later since Austin would have to talk to Maya before traveling. There was no way they’d cross that woman and her sharp tongue.

  Shep finished his coffee and headed back to Midnight Ink. He needed to get some work done. He might not have an appointment that day—something rare for him, thankfully—but there were bound to be walk-ins.

  As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted her.

  That sexy fairy who’d walked into him on the street.

  Her blonde hair was even lighter than he’d thought considering they’d been out in the sunlight before. No, that hadn’t been the sun making her look gorgeous.

  That was all her.

  She wore a light gray pencil skirt with a light pink top and gray jacket. Her heels were demure, but fuck, they made her legs look sexy

  She looked like someone’s assistant or an accountant.

  Totally out of place in a tattoo shop, at least in most shops.

  Midnight Ink didn’t discriminate. They knew some people had to hide their ink because of work so they made sure it looked hella good underneath their clothes.

  This woman though?

  Totally out of place.

  And lost.

  Shep smiled.

  He could totally help her with that.

  Sassy stood by the woman, her brow raised. “Honey, you sure you want this one? I know you were looking at something else a minute ago.”

  The woman turned and bit her lip, forcing Shep to hold back a groan.

  Holy fuck. He was acting like some teenager with a hard-on, rather than a not-so-young man with a hard-on.

  Sassy spotted him and waved him over. “Here’s Shep, honey. He’ll be the one to ink you since he has time and you said it didn’t matter who did it. Shep, this is Shea. She’s all yours.” Sassy raised that brow again and Shep smiled.

  Oh, yes. He wanted to get his hands on this woman in every way possible.

  Ink would be just the first step.

  The woman turned toward him, and Shep bit back a curse.

  Fuck.

  That wasn’t just indecision in her eyes. That was pure fear mixed with something else. Something like determination.

  The kind of determination that led to inked regrets.

  Sassy walked away, leaving Shep and Shea alone in the corner, a stack of albums between them.

  “So, uh, Shep,” she started, her voice just as smooth and sexy as it had been outside. “Sorry again for walking into you earlier.”

  “Like I said, it’s no problem.”

  “So, uh, I guess you’ll be giving me my tattoo? I think I want this little daisy. Or maybe this butterfly. Can you do that?”

  Shep looked down her body, her out-of-place clothes, the fear sliding right off her, and her weight shifting from foot to foot. He raised his gaze and met her eyes.

  “No.”

  Chapter Two

  “No?” Shea Little squeaked.

  “No,” the very sexy tattoo artist, Shep, repeated. He folded his arms—his very sexy, tattooed, muscled arms—over his chest, and she blinked. A lock of dark hair fell over his eyes, making him look even more dangerous—and even a little dashing.

  Oh great, now she made him sound like a romantic rake.

  Not the man telling her no.

  “But…why? Just no?” She couldn’t understand what he was saying. She’d come in to Midnight Ink after talking herself in and out of doing this for two straight weeks, and the first artist she’d spoken to said no?

  That made absolutely no sense to her.

  Shep raised a brow. “Tell me why you want a tattoo.” His forearms flexed, and she pulled herself away from the tantalizing sight.

  “Why?” she croaked, annoyed with herself for sounding like an idiot.

  She normally didn’t have an issue speaking intelligently, but apparently standing in front of a way-too-attractive man, along with her frayed nerves for even thinking about getting a tattoo, was too much for her.

  “Yes, why. Why do you want a tattoo? You stick out like a sore thumb, babe. Not that that’s an issue usually, but right here, right now? You should tell me why you want it. Is this just a sudden urge to show off your bad-girl side? Or do you have more ink under those prim and proper clothes of yours? I’m guessing not, considering you look like you’re freaked the fuck out by just being here.”

  “I’m not freaked out,” she lied.

  Oh, she was definitely freaked out.

  This…this man, though, didn’t have to be so rude and call her out on it. She’d already spent all morning pacing her apartment trying to figure out how to gain the courage to even come into the shop. Now this man wanted to know why she wanted a tattoo when even she didn’t even know the answer.

  Plus, she was pretty sure he’d just insulted her looks—or at least what she was wearing.

  Sure, she knew her normal attire didn’t fit in with what the clientele of this establishment usually wore, but he didn’t have to point it out.

  God, he was infuriating, and she hadn’t even spoken with him using complete sentences. Not logical ones anyway.

  Shea forced her gaze from his strong build and the tattoos that covered his arms and peeked out over his collar, and looked around at the shop. She was pretty sure every set of eyes was focused on them. Some looked intrigued, some bored, others openly gaped at the spectacle of she and Shep arguing.

  Well, him arguing.

  She hadn’t exactly stood up for herself yet, something she knew she needed to do one way or another. It was about time she did so. After all, the whole idea of getting a tattoo was to prove to herself she could be assertive.

  There.

  That was it.

 
; That was what she’d tell this Shep with the dreamy blue eyes, not that he deserved an explanation since he was acting like a butt.

  “Shea?” Shep asked, and she froze at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

  Oh, yes, she liked that a lot.

  Way too much, in fact, considering she didn’t know him, and from what she’d seen, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to know him. He was an egotistical asshole for sure and not someone she needed to get to know.

  She’d just have to ask that receptionist with the pretty pink streak in her hair. Sassy. Yes, that was her name. Sassy seemed as though she’d be able to help her.

  “What?” she snapped, the anger lying under the surface finally threatening to break free.

  Something flashed in his eyes, and he grinned.

  Darn it, the man looked hot when he did that.

  And he had a dimple.

  Great.

  “Why do you want a tattoo, Shea?” he asked softly.

  His tone got under her skin this time. Or at least it did in a whole new way. He seemed as though he genuinely wanted to know, rather than asking just to be a prick about it.

  At least that’s what she hoped she got from his voice.

  Knowing her luck, she was totally wrong and he was actually a jerk.

  “Why do you need to know?” she asked, almost unable to get the words out. She was losing her nerve, and she knew it. She shouldn’t have come. She pulled her purse tighter to her body and lifted her chin. She’d just have to leave the shop.

  There wouldn’t be a second chance for her. She’d been an idiot for even considering coming here and doing something so radical for her.

  Her mother and ex were right. She was a stiff, cold mannequin.

  Totally not appropriate for a man like Shep.

  She swallowed.

  Jesus. Why was she even thinking about this man? This was about a tattoo, and she wasn’t getting one. Shep had nothing to do with any of it.

  Nothing.

  “Sorry to have bothered you and taken your time.” She pulled her purse closer to her and walked quickly toward the door, her high heels clicking on the smooth wood floor. It took all she had to hold back the tears and keep her body from shaking.

  She knew her face had to be red, but she ignored it.

  This had been a stupid, stupid idea.

  A large, warm hand gripped her elbow as she reached the sidewalk, and she tried to pull away.

  “Wait, Shea, don’t go.”

  “Unhand me,” she spat through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

  Please don’t touch me.

  He didn’t let go but pulled her toward him so they were facing each other. Sweat dripped down her silk-covered back, and she tilted her head so she could look at his bearded face as the cloying New Orleans heat surrounded them.

  Shea could hear the hustle and bustle of tourists and locals, either working or sightseeing. She could hear children laughing, couples talking, a lone man humming, another yelling on his phone. Yet all of that became background noise and paled in comparison to those pretty blue eyes rimmed in dark lashes and against striking cheekbones beneath a few days’ worth of beard.

  Shep finally pulled back but was close enough to her that she couldn’t move away and run like she wanted to. Damn it. She hated not being in control, not having all the answers and everything in its place. Yes, this also didn’t fit with her current circumstances, and it annoyed her to no end.

  She shouldn’t have come.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you or grab you like that,” Shep said, concern in his tone. “I just wanted to stop you from running out of the place because I was acting like an asshole.”

  If that was an apology, she still wasn’t sure what she should think.

  “I already said I was sorry for taking up your time. Thank you for coming out here and trying to make yourself feel better, but I think I should go. I’m clearly in the wrong place.” God, even when she was trying to be bitchy, she needed to make people feel better. Hell, those southern roots never died.

  “You won’t find a better place for ink, Shea.”

  She raised her chin. “That may be, but I’m not in need of ink anymore. I made a mistake. Goodbye, Shep.”

  She turned, but he caught her elbow again. “Jesus, Shea, you put up that ice princess mask quickly, but hell, I saw the fear in your eyes when I walked up to you. Plus I saw it when we bumped into each other on the street before I even knew you were coming to Midnight for a tattoo. Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

  He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and she froze. The gesture was so intimate, so close, that she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t even know this man, and he was touching her, making her want to know about his own ink.

  There had to be something wrong with her.

  “I…I…why are you doing that?”

  “Doing what?” he asked, his voice low.

  Jesus, his voice was sexy. It had a low, throaty sound that rumbled against her skin, forcing her to hold back a shiver. She thought only sexy guys on TV or in the movies had voices like that.

  “Why are you touching me? I told you not to touch me.” Her voice had risen at the end of that, her fear of something…new coming out.

  “I’m an artist, Shea, not a mind reader.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I’m an artist. I fucking love what I do.” He stopped and shook his head, this time a little doubt entering his eyes that confused her. “Well, I’ve always loved what I do. I’ve been in a little rough patch lately, like I need to find my muse or whatever.”

  Shea snorted. “Seriously? Does that line work on anyone? No. Don’t even bother answering. I’ve already told you I was sorry for taking your time, and now you’re taking mine. Just let me leave, and I will be on my way. Soon I won’t even be a memory for you, and you can use that muse line on some unsuspecting coed.”

  Shep threw his head back and laughed. It had to be wrong that she loved the way his throat worked as he did so.

  Yeah, she totally had issues.

  “Honey, I’m way too fucking old to be looking at some coed, and that wasn’t a line, the thing about the muse. I’ve been in a funk, and that has nothing to do with getting laid or even working on your ink. And I do, by the way, want to work your ink. When I saw you on the street a little while ago I was intrigued. That doesn’t happen often. Not anymore. So, yeah, I want to see what tattoo you want and why. I want to get to know you.”

  That threw her. Get to know her? Just what exactly was he saying? And now he wanted to ink her? This Shep was making her head spin in more ways than one.

  “You’re going to have to take this one step at a time for me, Shep,” she finally said after she took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “One minute you’re acting like a brute, telling me I can’t have a tattoo and I stick out like a sore thumb. You say you aren’t hitting on me, but you’re intrigued and want to work on my ink, as you put it.”

  Shep smiled, a flash of white against his beard. “Sounds about right.”

  “You make no sense. I’m just going to go.” She was done. She had been an idiot to even think about coming down to Midnight. Though this hadn’t been an impulsive decision—not by far—she still felt out of her depths. That feeling wasn’t something she enjoyed, and giving up at this point seemed like the best option.

  “Don’t go, Shea.”

  She hated how much she loved the sound of her name on his lips.

  “Why should I stay?”

  “Because you came here for a reason. I don’t know what it is yet, considering I’m still waiting for that answer to my first question. You should also stay because, despite the clothes you’re wearing, the ice you’ve shielded yourself with, and the fear in your eyes, you still had the balls to walk through those doors. Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re not that scary in there. Okay, maybe Caliph is, but other than that, we’re good. We wouldn’t hurt you,
and we’re not the scary deviants you might think we are from watching movies or some shit.”

  Shea had no idea who Caliph was, but she knew the people in that building weren’t too scary. She didn’t judge people on their appearances like so many others did, like so many judged her.

  “I need to go,” she whispered, scared now for a whole other reason.

  “Tell me why you want a tattoo.”

  She huffed out a breath and looked into his eyes. “I want one because…because it’s not me. Or at least not the me everyone else thinks I am. I’m tired, Shep. So, so tired of being...this.” She pointed down at herself and sighed.

  He cupped her face, and she gasped, unprepared for his heated touch. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Shea. Now, what do you want?”

  You.

  She blinked. Well, that stray thought was just freaking crazy. She didn’t even know him.

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I want something that’s me. I just don’t know what or who that is.”

  Shep pulled away slightly, and she felt the loss of his touch down to her bones. “Okay then. I’ll help you. Whatever you want, it should be something that’s just for you, a design that makes doing something different worth it.” He grinned. “Plus, in order to find out what will work for you, I get the opportunity to know you better. A definite plus for me.”

  He wanted to get to know her? Her? The ice princess in pale clothes who liked to blend into the woodwork if she could?

  “Do you always get so personal with your clients?” she asked, a strange line of jealousy threading its way through her. She didn’t want to be just another woman he got to know before he inked her and left.

  Well, hell, now she sounded crazy.

  He brushed her cheek with the tip of his finger, and she held back a shudder. “I’ve never done it like this before,” he said softly. “I'm marking someone's skin forever. It's always personal. It doesn't matter if I don't know everything about them or what makes them tick. I do know what that tattoo means to them—at least a semblance of it. I can't just sit back and watch you make a decision you might regret.”

  “You don't know me well enough to know I'll regret it.” No one did.