by Nikki Ash
Sympathy drips from her words and fills her expression. I hate it and wish it wasn’t there. I don’t want her, or anyone else’s sympathy. When I got the call and dropped everything, my whole life, to travel back home to California from Virginia to take care of my sick younger brother—dying of a nasty brain tumor—I knew his death was inevitable just like he did. Sympathy feels like a filler emotion when death is unavoidable.
“I’m ready to be back.” I took three months after his passing to drive along the coast of California and then back home on my motorcycle. I’ve taken all the time I need. What I want now is to get back to normal. To tattoo again, feel the buzzing of the gun between my fingers, and to mess with the curvy gorgeous woman across the street.
Jessie gives a shrug and caps the water bottle. “All I’m saying is we understand, and I’ll keep this place running as long as you need me to.”
I level her with a look and tuck the pen into the pocket of my jeans so I’ll stop playing with it. “I’m here, Jess. I’m not going anywhere so get used to the boss being back.”
She laughs, tossing her teal-colored hair over her shoulder. “Now that’s the Travis I know.”
She leaves me to my thoughts, heading back to the main floor to work on her client.
Swiping an energy drink from the fridge, I shut myself in my office. Popping the top, I take a swig of the liquid cringing at the fake grape taste and immediately drop it into the trash, questioning how anyone drinks that stuff.
Picking up a stack of papers, I look through them and find that, at least in my quick perusal, Jessie has done a solid job keeping track of everything. I knew she would, but I guess a part of me hoped to find some flaw in the way she handled things in my absence just so I would feel useful.
There’s a piece of paper with names and numbers of clients who specifically wanted to wait until I returned for more ink, so with nothing else to do, I start making calls.
The door to my apartment creaks open and I flick the light switch on, bathing the entry in light. There’s something incredibly lonely about coming back to the same place, day in and day out, with no one there to greet you. No one who cares about you. No one who loves you.
Kicking the door closed with my boot, I lock it and secure the latch.
The apartment is small, and all I have to do is take two steps to my right to walk into my bedroom and the attached bathroom. Immediately, I remove my boots and then shuck my shirt to the floor. My pants next. Less than a minute after I walked into the apartment, I’m in the shower. The plumbing is shotty, so the water pressure sucks and sometimes the water changes from hot to ice cold back to scalding, but it’s mine. I could afford something nicer if I wanted, but since it’s just me and I’ve always been a workaholic as long as I have a place to crash that’s all that matters.
I spend way longer than necessary in the shower, but when I get out I feel halfway human so that has to count for something.
Yanking on a pair of shorts, I don’t bother with a shirt as I head across the hall to the tiny galley kitchen. There’s a half-eaten sandwich in the fridge from earlier. Not the most ideal dinner, but it’ll do until I can pick up groceries tomorrow. Grabbing a drink, I settle onto the loveseat that serves as my couch and turn on the TV. There’s no cable so I connect to Netflix and pick a show at random that should distract me for a while. Something about horrible bakers—and man, they are terrible. Not that I could do much better.
Kicking my legs up on the coffee table I stifle a yawn.
It’s been a long day. An even longer year. But I’m ready to return to a relatively normal life. I know the ache in my chest from the loss of my brother will never fully go away. I never imagined living a life without him in it, but I guess the universe had different plans.
I don’t regret dropping my entire life to go back home to take care of him. When my mom called and explained the situation, I knew she couldn’t do it alone. I was even more horrified that Colin didn’t want me to know at all—not because he felt I wasn’t worth knowing, but because he knew I’d do exactly what I did and rush to his side.
I would’ve been absolutely livid and hurt if I hadn’t gotten to spend his last few months by his side.
Still, even while I was gone, Alba was always in the back of my mind.
I don’t understand what is about the woman that I can’t get out of my head. From the moment I laid eyes on her I’ve been enamored. She’s wicked smart with a sharp tongue and undeniable wit that I find extremely attractive. I thought one night with her would be enough to quench my thirst, but I was wrong. I’m sure after the way I completely left town the last thing she’ll ever want is a repeat.
All I can hope is given enough time, I can convince her I’m worth the risk.
Chapter Three
Alba
“Who’s the prettiest baby in all the land?” Dahlia gurgles as I wipe the warm cloth beneath her double chin during her nightly bath. Bubbles float through the air along with the calming scent of lavender. Her chubby legs kick and splash at the water. “You are.” I tap her nose and she lets out the most adorable laugh that lights my whole world. She reaches for my finger, wrapping her fist around it and squeezing tight. “Look at you my strong girl.”
Plucking my finger from her grasp I finish wiping her down and pull her from the bath, wrapping her in a towel. She gives a little cry, sad to be leaving the water, but quiets once I start rubbing lotion into her skin.
“If someone gave me a full body massage like this every night, I’d be a happy camper too.” I smile down at her and she grins back, reaching up to try to grab my hair.
Finally, I stuff her squirming limbs into her pajamas and sit down on my bed with her in my arms, grabbing the book I always leave on the nightstand and start reading to her.
Her eyes grow heavy and I set the book aside, rocking her in my arms until she’s fully asleep. Slowly, making sure to keep rocking her, I settle her into the crib down the hall in her nursery. She stirs a little, letting out a tiny cry when my arms are no longer holding her. I hesitate, waiting to see if she’ll drift back to sleep and when she does, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
Climbing into bed, I turn the TV on—I always keep the volume low so I don’t have to worry about it waking her—and flip through the channels, settling on a ghost hunting show.
With that playing in the background I grab my sketchpad and pencil from the side table. I always try to spend a little time every night sketching something for my own pleasure and not anything commissioned for a client. I never want my art to feel like work.
Slowly, the drawing comes into shape. The flowers and vines curling around each other.
Dahlia makes a noise in her sleep through the monitor and I freeze, glancing over to see if she’s going to wake up. She gives a wiggle of her nose, but her eyes stay closed.
Stifling a yawn, I set the sketchpad aside and get comfy beneath the covers. I think I only stare at the TV for five minutes before I’m fast asleep.
“She woke me up four times last night.” I pass off the baby to an eager Astrid who takes her excitedly, along with the diaper bag. “I have to run and get coffee before I keel over.”
“Make sure you get a muffin too,” she warns, twirling in a circle to make Dahlia giggle. “I have a feeling you didn’t eat breakfast and you’re a monster when you’re hungry.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, digging my wallet out of my bag.
“See,” she says in her baby voice to Dahlia, “mommy is mean when she’s hungry.”
“I hope she throws up on you.”
“My princess would never,” she calls after me as I leave through the front door.
Striding down the street, I walk into the local coffee shop that’s a town favorite. Having Griffin’s within walking distance of my shop has been a godsend on days like today when I need an IV full of caffeine.
While waiting in line I start digging through my bag for my wallet so I’ll be ready to pay when it’s my turn a
nd things can keep moving.
“I’ve got this, babe.”
Disgust crawls up my spine as I cease plundering through my purse and turn to find Travis standing beside me in line. His dyed black hair is pushed away from his face and he’s dressed head to toe in the dark color as well. His neck tattoos seem to glow from the lighting in the shop but I know that’s not true. It’s just me who’s helpless to take my eyes off the ink.
“Got what?” I bite out.
“Our order.”
I don’t miss his use of the word our like we planned to meet here or that we’re something other than acquaintances.
“I can get my own.”
“I’m perfectly aware of your capabilities of ordering and paying by yourself, I like that about you, but today it’s on me.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He looks right back, his blue-gray eyes threatening to make me feel guilty. Not over the coffee, but the baby only a few stores down who he doesn’t even know about.
I tried to tell him, I remind myself. For months I contacted him and heard nothing. I didn’t keep her a secret on purpose, but now … I don’t know how to tell him and what’s to say he won’t leave town in a blink again? I won’t let Dahlia deal with an absentee father. I can be all she needs.
“Why?” My tone is suspicious because when it comes to Travis, I’ve learned that he always seems to have some ulterior motive.
“No reason.” His smirk tells me those two little words are complete bullshit.
“What do you want?”
“Sit with me and have breakfast.”
“No, I have to get back to work. We’re opening in twenty minutes.”
And I have our child to check on.
“Give me fifteen then.”
“I don’t understand you.” We move forward in line and if I wasn’t so desperate for coffee and food—because Astrid’s right, I need to eat—then I would turn tail and leave so I didn’t have to deal with him.
“I don’t understand you either and it’s one of the things I like most about you.”
“You’re not allowed to do that,” I snap, my words holding more bite than I intend.
“Do what?” He arches a brow. “Compliment you?”
“Exactly.”
There’s only one person left in front of us to order.
“Why not?”
I squirm. “You’re just … not.”
Turning, I look in the opposite direction at the bustling café so he can’t see the hurt on my face. Travis is nothing. He means nothing. So why can’t my heart get the memo? Sure, we had a flirtation despite our non-stop bickering, and the one night we shared together might’ve been the best sex I ever had, but it all means zilch now. He left. Life moved on.
When I finally grow brave enough to look back in his direction of course he’s staring at me with an amused smirk. What a jerk face.
The lady in front of us moves over to wait for her order, which means it’s my turn to give mine. Travis swings his hand dramatically for me to step forward and I glare at him and have to use all my self-control to not roll my eyes.
“Hi, Emory,” I flash a smile at Griffin’s grandson, “I’ll take the vanilla iced latte and one of the lemon blueberry muffins.”
“Anything else?”
Travis bumps my hip with his, effectively shoving me out of the way. His long slender tattooed fingers are already plucking his credit card from his wallet. “Yeah, I’m going to have a cold brew with coconut milk and one of the chocolate croissants.”
Emory rings everything up, oblivious to the daggers I’m glaring at Travis.
Taking his receipt, Travis places a gentle hand on my spine, guiding me to a table.
“I’m not eating breakfast with you.” And your hand definitely doesn’t feel pleasant at all.
“We’re not eating breakfast.”
“What do you call this then?” I reluctantly pull out a chair at the table he picks and plop in the seat with a disgruntled breath.
“Coffee and a snack.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean forward. “I don’t understand what you think you’re going to accomplish?” His eyes drop to my breasts, which have grown annoyingly larger since I got pregnant. “Stop looking at my boobs.”
He clears his throat. “Sorry.” His apology is slightly sheepish and at least feels genuine. “I can’t help it. You have nice tits.”
“Travis,” I bite out.
“I’m a guy.” He gives a shrug like this is all the explanation I need which I guess it is. Our order is called out and he narrows his eyes on me. “I’m going to grab that. Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. Only because I want my coffee,” I gripe.
His lips twitch as he fights not to smile. Sliding from the table he rises to his full height and I have to bite my lip to hold back a sigh. He might irritate me to no end, but there’s no denying he’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Returning with our order he passes me my muffin and iced coffee. I narrow my eyes with suspicion since he’s stolen my order in the past.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He takes a bite of the end of his croissant, chewing carefully like he’s afraid I might make him choke on it or something equally nefarious.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
He winces, pressing a hand to his firm chest. “You wound me, Alba.”
“I’m sure you’re bleeding out and dying on the inside.”
He grins. “You have no idea.”
“Start talking. You have less than five minutes until I eat this whole muffin and then I’m gone.”
“Can’t we catch up like old friends?”
“We’re not old. Nor friends.”
He laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “This is why I like you.”
I arch a brow. “Because I hate you?”
He bites his lip in a gesture that I know he doesn’t intend to be sexual but oozes in sex appeal. “Oh, babe, we both know you don’t hate me.”
I take a sip of my coffee and set the cup down on the table. “I don’t?”
He leans in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Haven’t you ever been told the line between love and hate is thin? You think you’re on the side of hate, but I know better.”
I narrow my eyes. “That so?”
“Mhmm,” he hums.
“So cocky.”
“Confident, not cocky—there’s a difference, babe.”
Stirring my drink with the straw, I hesitantly ask him, “How long are you back in town for?”
“Permanently.”
“Why’d you leave?”
He plucks a marker from his pocket and starts doodling on his cup, not quite meeting my eyes. Pursing his lips, he finally says, “Because I had to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Something shadows his face. “I know.”
My stomach drops. What if he has a wife and children somewhere else? I mean, I doubt it, but you never know and he’s acting weird.
His tongue sticks out slightly between his pouty lips as he works on whatever he’s drawing on his cup.
“For someone who wanted to have breakfast you’re sure being quiet.”
He looks up, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “You’re the one who said we couldn’t have breakfast and I need a lot longer than five minutes to talk to you.” Standing, he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”
Before I can reply, he switches our drinks in a blink of an eye, striding out the door before I can even offer a retort.
Picking up the cup, I study the roses and thorny vines he drew easily in only a minute. Spinning the cup, I find them wrapped around a number. His number. It’s different than the one I tried so many times to get ahold of him on. Looking out the window of the coffee shop I watch him disappear from sight and into his shop.
My stomach rolls, because if Travis is indeed back permanently there’s definitely no hiding the tiny
human that’s half his who’s currently only a matter of feet from him and he doesn’t even know it.
Fuck. I’m so screwed.
Chapter Four
Alba
Locking the shop door behind me I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted after working on a four-hour piece, but at least I’m not in pain like the client. It was worth it. The intricate dragon is one of the most detailed pieces I’ve had the pleasure of doing. Thankfully, my mom picked up Dahlia after she was done with her work, so I didn’t have to worry about the baby.
“You’re just finishing up too?”
“Ahh!” I shriek, throwing my heavy purse—I swear my entire life is in that thing—at the perpetrator.
“Jesus Christ!” The breath gets knocked out of Travis as my purse collides with his stomach. “What is that?”
“Don’t sneak up on people!” I shriek, causing more than a few heads to turn in our direction. Dropping to my knees I grab my bag, stuffing the few things that fell out back inside. Thankfully none of them are baby items.
“I didn’t sneak,” he defends, swiping a tube of lipstick and passing it to me. “You’re just oblivious.”
I narrow my eyes on his ridiculously handsome face. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?” I wiggle my fist menacingly but the way he laughs I must not look ferocious at all, which makes me frown. Here I am trying to look menacing and I probably look like a yapping puppy.
“You can try.” He rubs his jaw. “Could you even reach my face?”
“I’d find a way,” I grumble under my breath, walking around the building toward the parking lot a block away. “Why are you walking with me?”
He gives a shrug, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thought I’d walk you home.”
My steps falter, panic rising, but then I remember he thinks I still live downtown. “I moved.”
