“That’s great,” she said. “Perfect.”
“Good.” He picked up his tattoo gun and switched it on, and the menacing buzz sent her anxiety through the roof again. “I’m just going to do a little line, okay? So you know how it feels.”
“Okay,” she murmured.
“Don’t look,” Jay told her from across the room. “It’s better if you don't look. You might be a bleeder.”
Great.
Bailey stared up at the ceiling and focused on the music coming in from the entry room. It sounded like Ariana Grande, which meant Gem had got ahold of the sound system again. Not that Bailey was complaining. She loved Christmas and Chill.
She let the silky vocals rise above the buzzing tattoo gun in her mind, then took a deep breath. Which filled her nose with the comforting scent of Cash’s soap, or shampoo, or whatever it was that made him smell like summer linen.
And then he put the needle to her skin.
It… didn’t hurt that much. Actually, she wasn’t sure if it hurt at all.
He pulled away, looked up at her. “Alright?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “It’s… It’s not too bad.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.” And then he bent his head over her thigh again and put the gun to her flesh.
She gazed up at the ceiling once more. Now that this was actually happening, she felt kind of silly. She could feel the needle, sure, but not enough to describe it as pain. It was like being prickled by a kitten: more shocking than agonising.
In fact, she’d been more disconcerted by the sight of Cash’s head so close to her—
“Done!” Jay said, his voice rising in satisfaction.
“Cheers mate. Cor, that’s somethin’, eh?”
Bailey looked over to find Jay grinning at his client’s round belly. Except, through abstract shapes and colours, it had been transformed into a… fishbowl? Bulbous goldfish chased translucent bubbles across the man’s swollen skin. Bailey stifled a giggle as Jay began to wrap clingfilm over the fresh ink.
“You’re so talented, Jay,” she said, unable to keep quiet. Cash, it seemed, had no such concern; he was singularly focused on his work, silent as a church. But hey; she should be glad he was concentrating so hard, right?”
“Thanks, Bailey,” Jay smiled. “You’re a sweetheart.”
“I wish I could have colours like that,” she mused. “But I’m probably too dark for it to—”
Abruptly, Cash raised his head, pulling the gun away. He glared at her, startlingly fierce.
“You’re not too anything,” he interrupted. “You’re the perfect natural canvas for all this heavy shit I design. It’s like you were made for…” He trailed off, cleared his throat. “For my work,” he finished. Then, just as suddenly, he bent back over her leg and went to work.
Bailey stared at the top of his head, copper highlights glinting out under the fluorescent light. Then she looked up to find Jay and his client staring too, with similarly stunned expressions.
“He never talks while he’s working,” Jay said finally. “I didn’t even know he… Processed words when he was working. It’s always like he’s in some kind of trance.”
“Aye,” the big man agreed, sliding his T-shirt on. “He is a silent bastard, ain’t he?”
“Usually,” Jay muttered. Then he shook his head slightly. “Anyway, Lee, let’s have you. Come on, mate.”
They left the room, the client—Lee—giving her a cheery wave as he went. And then Bailey was alone with the silent bastard.
She waited for him to speak. To say something that would explain the aberration that had apparently just occurred.
But he didn’t, of course.
God, where the hell was Gem?
Chapter Sixteen
He should’ve known that things would be different with Bailey.
Weren’t they always?
Cash had finished the last of the shading without an ounce of his usual peace. Working on Bailey, he hadn’t been able to slip into a familiar state of euphoria, to float away until nothing mattered but his hands and the skin beneath them.
Nope. She kept him right there. Painfully present. Painfully aware. Bailey Cooper wasn’t just a canvas.
He really should stay away from this girl, shouldn’t he?
He was sitting in the corner of the room, watching everyone else crowd around Bailey as she admired her fresh ink in the mirror. Gem had provided her with a long, flowing skirt, which she hiked up around her thighs.
Jay, Steve, and Gem were all gushing over the tattoo—and he supposed he’d done a damned good job on it—but all Cash could focus on was the shape of Bailey’s legs; the rounded curves of her thick calves and thicker thighs.
One of which was now marked forever. By him.
Abruptly, Cash stood.
The sudden movement had all eyes swinging his way. Fuck. He cleared his throat. “We need to get that covered up.”
“Alright,” she said with a smile. She hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d finished, and her excitement was catching. It filled his chest like a balloon, made him want to cup her face and kiss her nose and—ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He stalked forward and picked up the clingfilm, tearing off a length with a sharp pull. She sat for him, and he wrapped her up, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. It was way too late to pretend indifference. She knew what he wanted. Or he thought she did—but recently, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted.
She was singing under her breath, a tune light as air. He stilled, hovering over her body, straining to hear the lyrics.
“But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so well… I’ve got you under my skin?”
Her voice was husky and weak, but beautiful all the same. As the familiar refrain trailed off, he looked up, right into the heat of her dark gaze.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I love it.”
He nodded stiffly, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.
“Alright young’ns,” Steve said. “That’s enough faffing about for one day. I know we’ve all got plenty to do.”
“Barely,” Gem said, rolling her eyes. “We close tomorrow, anyway.” But she and Jay dispersed obediently. Steve’s dad tone could not be denied.
“What are you guys doing for Christmas?” Jay asked, cleaning up his station.
“Going to my brother’s house and pretending his children belong to me,” Gem said dreamily.
“Because that’s not creepy at all.”
“He has five kids! No-one needs five kids. He can definitely share.”
Jay snorted. “What about you, Bailey?’
Cash watched as Bailey bit her lip, her face hesitant. Which was odd. She loved Christmas.
But then she said, “I’m… It’s just me this year.”
A beat of awkward silence fell.
“Oh,” Gem said finally. “Oh, that’s rubbish. You don’t have any family you can—?”
“No.” Bailey straightened her skirt and stood, forcing Cash to step back. He watched as she fiddled primly with the cuffs of her jumper, keeping her eyes to the ground. Maybe that was enough to hide the sadness that surrounded her from everyone else in the room.
But not from him.
“You should come home with me,” he said.
Wait.
Wait.
Had he just said that?
Shit.
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “With you?”
“I mean… To my mother’s house. That’s where I spend Christmas. With my sister and brother-in-law and… They have two kids. I don’t know if you…” He became suddenly aware of the silence in the room, of everyone’s eyes drilling curious holes into his back. He felt the tips of his ears heat up, which just made the whole situation even worse. He was blushing, for Christ’s sake, like a teenager. He didn’t think he’d ever been so embarrassed in his life. What the fuck was he thinking, inviting Bailey to his mother’s house? Thi
s wasn’t part of the arrangement. This wasn’t his way. It certainly wasn’t what she’d agreed to—
“I’d love to,” she said. The words ran into one another, as though she’d blurted them out without thinking, which was a habit of hers. He loved that habit.
Especially right now.
“Really?”
“Yes. Definitely. I mean—thank you. For inviting me. Oh, only if you’re sure! I don’t want to intrude.” Her smile faded, and he watched doubt take its place. That killed him.
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. Shouldn’t be doing this. “Extremely sure.” It’s a bad idea. “I want you to come.” In more ways than one.
“Oh.” Her smile returned, light as a bird on a bare winter branch. “Okay.”
“I’m leaving on the 23rd. Get back on the 26th. That okay with you?”
“Yeah. Um… Where is it?”
“Oh, not far. Just out of the city. But she likes us all to stay, and my sister comes over from Derby.”
“Okay. Cool. Um… Thanks again. For the tattoo.” She moved past him with a pleased little expression on her face that made him want to pick her up and hug her. Maybe he would. Except—
He turned, suddenly remembering the presence of the rest of the room. His staff stood, gawping openly. “Don’t you fuckers have shit to do?” He snapped.
Jay shot him a smirk. “Aye aye, boss.”
Cash raked his hand through his hair and stifled a sigh. He’d never hear the fucking end of this.
Chapter Seventeen
Cash’s family lived in a fantasy world.
Or at least, that’s how it felt.
They’d driven to the outskirts of the city in a car she hadn’t known he owned. It was small and dark blue and old-fashioned—vintage, clearly, but she had no idea about that sort of thing.
He kept on driving as they left the concrete jungle behind. Cityscapes became snow-cloud skies and barren fields. They passed winter-bare trees, their branches spearing up at the heavens like needy hands raised to the gods.
And then the roads grew thin, winding through the landscape like ribbon. The trees ripened again as evergreens took the place of deciduous plants. They passed a sign that read: Welcome to Cartham, and houses came into view, settled comfortably into vast plots of land along one side of the road. On the other side there stood what could only be called a forest, the trees as dense and erect as an army’s front line.
Bailey raised her brows. “This is where your mother lives?”
“Yep.” He slowed the car down as they pulled up to a set of huge, open gates. They swung into the brick driveway and crawled up towards a grand house of grey stone, its garden festooned with gaudy, flashing Christmas lights that contrasted boldly with the austere vibe of the area. It was like seeing a blow-up snowman and Santa Stop Here! sign in front of Northanger Abbey.
“You’re not the only one who likes Christmas,” she observed with a smile.
“No,” he said as he pulled up. “I’m not. Listen, Bailey… Just to warn you, my mother thinks that you’re my girlfriend.”
“What?!” She squeaked, her smile disappearing. “Why?!”
He winced, clearly uncomfortable. This explained why, as they’d drawn closer to their destination, he’d gone from laughing with her over their disparate music tastes to falling into a brooding silence. He was nervous.
“Well,” he said. “I told her you were coming. And she asked me about you, because she wanted to get you a present—”
“A present? Oh my God, she didn’t need to do that!”
“She loves getting presents. The more the merrier. So I told her about you, and she just kind of… Decided you must be my girlfriend.”
Bailey squinted at him. “Why? What did you say?”
“Um… Nothing, really. I told her your name. How we met. The stuff you like. I don’t know, normal shit.”
“Well, maybe it’s just wishful thinking on her part. Don’t mothers always want their sons coupled up?”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “I just wanted to warn you. I don’t—I mean, she’s kind of enthusiastic. And I don’t want you to feel pressured or—”
“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I know what this is, Cash.” Even though he hadn’t touched her since that day at work. Even though he’d asked for her number and done nothing with it but text her cute dog pictures. Even though they were sitting outside his mother’s house right now.
She wouldn’t allow herself to forget. Ninety days.
His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, even though the car was parked, and she reached forward to cover them with one of her own. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”
But then he looked at her with those piercing eyes, so well-suited to this green little village, and she saw vulnerability in their depths.
“What are you so worried about?” She asked softly.
“I…” He heaved out a sigh. “It’s hard to explain. But my mother, and my sister… We’ve all been through a lot together. They really mean the fucking world to me. And they think of me in a certain way—the wrong way. They’re determined to see the best in me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want anything to change that. I need them to believe that I’m… That I’m like them.”
“Like them?”
“Yeah. Like them, and not like my…”
He looked ready to choke on his words. His knuckles were bright white, the tendons of his hands raised beneath her fingers as he gripped the wheel tight.
“Like your father?” She guessed.
He looked at her sharply. “How did you—?”
“Generally it’s our parents who fuck us up. And clearly you have no problem with your mother. So…”
“Right.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. My dad was kind of… Fuck. I don’t know how to say this.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Bailey said softly, silently willing him to look at her again. But she wasn’t ready for the agony in his eyes when he did.
“I can’t tell you. Not all of it. But you make me want to… I don’t know. To try. Everyone said, when I was a kid, you have to talk about it. I never wanted to. But I—my mum made me, uh, see a therapist. Fuck. That sounds weird, doesn't it?”
She smiled gently. “I study cognitive psychology, remember? Taking care of your mental health isn’t weird to me.”
He tried to laugh. It almost sounded like the real thing, too. “I suppose. Well… Long story short, my dad was a monster. And I’ve spent a long time trying not to be like him. But sometimes I worry that…”
Only, before she could find out what he worried about, the front door of the house opened. Light spilled out into the growing darkness of the afternoon, and Bailey knew that the swirling mess of concern and confusion in her gut would have to wait.
A woman stood in the doorway, tall and broad, a child perched on her hip—despite the fact that he must have been six or seven. Another child barrelled out from behind them, older than the first.
“Uncle Cash!” He roared, so loud they could hear him from inside the car. Cash gave her one last, long look before he opened the door and got out, sweeping the kid up into his arms.
“Hey, kiddo,” he grinned, and there was pure love in his voice.
Bailey gave herself a second to fiddle with her hair. Just one. Then she put on her big girl knickers and got out of the car.
The air was icy cold, a slap in the face that made her giddy because it meant Christmas was coming. Of course, it would still be this cold after Christmas—in January, and February, and probably even March—but there wouldn’t be magic in the air anymore. Not like there was now.
She let her excitement fill her, lift her up. Never mind her nerves, or the things Cash was trying to say, or the fear that shot through her every time his smile made her happier than it should. It was Christmastime. Nothing truly bad could happen.
Could it?
She was jolted from her reverie when Cash laid a hand on her shoulder. He smiled down a
t her, his big body protecting her from the wind. The boy in his arms had rich, brown hair and blue eyes, but his sharp features and petulant mouth were like distant echoes of Cash’s own.
“Will, this is my friend Bailey. Bailey, this is Will, my eldest nephew.”
“Hello,” the boy said, his tone curious. He was wearing pyjamas and a thick, blue dressing gown. Batman slippers adorned his feet.
“Hi,” Bailey said, her voice soft and uncertain. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked to a kid. But this one didn’t seem so terrifying.
Cash gave a theatrical groan, sagging with fake weariness. “God, Will, you’ve grown so much I can barely carry you! I’m gonna have to put you down…”
“No, Uncle Cash!” The boy bounced and giggled, kicking his legs. “Not yet!”
“Oh, alright then.” Cash looked over at Bailey, and his smile was so wide and unguarded and real, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll grab our stuff later.”
“Okay,” she nodded. They walked towards the front door, little Will talking a mile a minute about school, the pancakes he’d made earlier that day with his grandmother, the presents he thought he might get.
As they neared the house, Bailey felt herself falling behind Cash, her gaze lowered. Accepting his invitation was one thing, but now that she was actually here, it hit her how much an outsider she was. An intruder. Fuck. She almost certainly should’ve stayed home.
Cash stepped into the house and put his protesting nephew down so that he could greet the woman who’d opened the door. He pulled her into a huge bear hug, lifting her off her feet—along with the little boy in her arms, who squealed excitedly. Bailey stood awkwardly aside, taking in the hallway.
It was light and airy, decorated in warm neutral tones and covered in Christmas decorations, just like the front of the house. Mistletoe hung over every doorway she could see, and tinsel was wrapped around every inch of the bannisters, trailing up the long staircase.
“Bailey,” Cash said, capturing her attention again. “This is my sister, Monroe, and my other nephew, Charlie. Guys, this is my friend Bailey.”
Merry Inkmas: A BWWM Romance Page 10
