Love & Curses (Cursed Ink) (2 page)

He strode across the gravel lot, the dull fluorescent lamplight casting a long shadow to his side and up the wall of the parlor. As he approached his car, he pulled out his keys but paused before using the fob to unlock the doors. Maybe he should drop by the festivities over on Bourbon Street and check out the hotties having a good time.

Stuffing his keys back into his pocket, he rounded toward the party four streets over and the prospect of an easy lay with a drunken co-ed. But as he turned, his feet stuttered. Some old woman, dressed in a long skirt and a loose shirt, stood a half a dozen feet in front of him.

“Benjamin Walker.” Her voice sliced the space between them.

He frowned. “Yeah.”

She twisted her hands together, twining and untwining her fingers. A string of incoherent sounds flew from her mouth.

He narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”

Heat lightning flashed in the distance.

“I curse you, Benjamin Walker.” She pointed a shaky hand at him and muttered a few more unintelligible words. “I curse you to roam the world, watching those around you find true love while you continue in your self-absorbed existence.”

He glanced around, searching for his co-workers. “All right guys,” he called out with a disconcerted chuckle. “Good joke on the new guy. Now, call the old biddy off.”

No one stepped from the shadows to end the prank.

The woman waved her arms. “You give people tattoos, give them the illusion their life will change. I curse you, Benjamin Walker, for breaking a young girl’s heart. May the ink you use on others mark the truth on your very soul.” She lifted her face and hands toward the sky.

A fork of lightning cut the darkness overhead, and a sudden breeze blustered through the parking lot. Long strands of hair danced around the old lady’s head, her clothing whipping against her thin frame. When the wind wrapped around Ben, tearing at his shirt and pants, clawing at his hair, he jolted at the unexpected frigidness. Icy tendrils seemed to pierce his skin and invade his body, squeezing his lungs, crushing his heart.

A moment later, the pressure vanished. Released, he sucked in a greedy breath.
What the fuck?

Raising his head, he glared at the old woman as anger crashed through him. “This is about Calista?” he roared.

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

He strode toward her, closing the distance in three steps. “That freaky bitch put you up to confronting me, told you to wave your arms and say some mumbo-jumbo to get even with me?”

“No.” She gave him a menacing look, her eyes the same golden hue as Calista’s. “The curse was all me. And now, it is done.” She pivoted and walked away, her movements surprisingly agile considering her rickety appearance.

Ben stared after her as she disappeared around the corner of the tattoo shop.

“Hey,” he yelled and jogged to catch up. But as he rounded the building, he found only an empty sidewalk. The old lady had vanished. “Damn.”

He rubbed his hand across his chest, trying to erase the twinge of cold, which was no longer there. The pain he’d experienced still fresh, he pressed his palm to his sternum. Yeah, his heart was still beating. He glanced up and down the unusually quiet street, his nerves on edge. The whole thing had been seriously freaky, beyond real.

The frivolity from Bourbon Street danced on the air, beckoning him to partake. Instead, he stalked back to his car, no longer in the partying mood. Jamming his hand in his pocket, he drew out his keys, popped the fob, and opened the door. He twisted to peer over his shoulder in the direction the woman had gone.

“Curse?” He shook his head and settled into the driver’s seat, closing the car door behind him. Starting the engine, he looked out the window. “Bullshit.”

Chapter Two

Calista balanced the takeout bag of Red Beans and Rice in one arm, her mail, purse, and law school books in the other. Keys held between her teeth, she climbed the back porch steps. Halfway up, the heel on her shoe broke. She struggled to keep her balance but lost, and screamed as she tumbled down the four steps, landing face first in a mud puddle next to the stairs.

“Damn it.” Her ankle and knee throbbed in pain. She slapped the wet soil beneath her and gingerly sat up. Okay, add scraped up elbow to the list. Glancing over her shoulder, she found her dinner strewn over the walkway, her mail scattered in the wind, and her textbooks open and submerged in the muck.

Didn’t it just figure? Her whole day had been a disaster. It only seemed fitting her night would end up in a big, fat pile of mud.

Irritation broke the last bit of control she’d held on her emotions. Enough, she’d had enough of it all. Leaning against the bottom step, she gave in to the tears that had threatened all damn day, covered her face with her damp, grimy hands, and let them flow.

Her life was friggin’ pathetic. Two weeks had passed, and she still couldn’t believe how her relationship with Ben had ended. She’d done it again. Given her body and heart to a man who didn’t want them. Oh sure, he’d wanted her body—he’d been abundantly clear. But a good time was all Ben Walker had been after.

She’d been so stupid. Listened to his pretty words and totally ignored the signs staring her in the face. The way he’d only wanted to see her at night…in his room. How he’d never even wanted to get a meal with her or meet her friends or do any damn thing that meant getting out of bed.

Stupid.
God, she was such an idiot. The things she’d told him, shared with him. She’d poured her heart out like a fool, and he’d never wanted anything more than a good lay for as long as it would last. Shit! Even after their argument, he expected her to call him.

Why the hell did she keep falling for these losers? Why did she keep offering her heart and getting it tossed back in her face? All she wanted was someone to love and for them to love her back. Was it too much to ask?

She shook her head. None of it mattered because she was done. Done putting herself out there. No more. If she had to go through life alone, then so be it.

She shivered, the realization bringing a fresh round of hot tears flowing over her cheeks. She was still nothing but a pathetic, stupid,
stupid
woman. And crap, why did it still hurt so damn much?

“Calista?”

She cringed, the concerned voice of her neighbor grating her ears. Oh God, a witness to her humiliation. Could this day get any worse? “Go away, Andy. I’ll be fine.”

He let out a small chuckle. Lord, was everyone laughing at her?

“I don’t think so, honey. Your knee and arm are bleeding, and your tears are falling harder than the rain we just had.” He gathered her things and placed them on the steps. “Come on, give me your hands, and let me make sure that pretty face of yours is okay.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want him seeing her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face. Truth be told, he already thought she was a major fuck up. She didn’t need to give him any more proof. He was one of those rare, stand-up guys. He’d watched her cry and listened to her whine for almost two years.

Five years older than her twenty-eight years, Andy had his crap together. He owned his own restaurant for shitsake and was so far out of her league. Tall, lean, and good-looking in a down to earth sort of way—he didn’t compare at all to the bad boy type she always fell for. But for some reason, he continued picking up the pieces for her when one of those bad boys broke her heart again. God, what he must think of her—a freaking emotional charity case.

Ben would be the last. She didn’t have any more heart left to be broken. Lesson learned well this time.

Reluctantly, she lowered her hands from her face and stared down at the sodden ground where she sat. Andy knelt in front of her, tucked his finger under her chin, and lifted her face to meet his gaze.

“Well, no blood here. Just some mud.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “And lots of runny mascara. I thought they made the stuff waterproof these days.”

She smiled. He had a way of making a bad situation seem bearable.

She slapped his arm. “I should stock up, huh?”

He shook his head. “No, you should find someone who won’t cause you to need it.”

She sucked in a breath. “How…how did you know?”

“Because the only time I ever see you give in the way you are now is when some asshole has treated you bad.” He took her hand in his and tugged. “Come on, let’s see how much damage you’ve done. Can you stand?”

She tore her gaze away from him, guilt squeezing her lungs. She always let him take care of her. However this time, she was embarrassed by what he saw in her. She was a gullible fool, and she wished she didn’t deserve his pity.

She tried to pull her fingers free, but he wouldn’t let go
. “I’ll be fine, really. I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around here and watch me make an ass of myself.”

“Nope, not really.” He helped her to her feet

Pain shot up her leg, and she yelped, her ankle giving out. Scooping her up in his arms, Andy climbed the steps to her back porch. Her keys jangled in his hand—when he’d picked them up, she hadn’t seen. A moment later, he had the door open and headed toward the living room.

Sitting on the couch first, he settled her on his lap. “Your skirt is all muddy. Wouldn’t want to get your couch dirty. Take a breath then we’ll get you patched up. I’ll even share the Shrimp Ettouffe I brought home from the restaurant.”

Shame scrabbled to clutch her throat. He was being too kind to her.
Again
. Shaking her head, she tried to blink away the tears, tried to erase the callous remarks Ben had said the day she’d left. But being in Andy’s arms brought everything missing in her life to the forefront. It wasn’t fair. “I’m barely hanging on here.”

“You’re doing fine, honey. Let it go. I’ll be right here till the flood passes.”

That was all it took. She buried her face in his chest, sob after sob quaking through her. True to his word, he held her tight through the torrent of tears. When at last she lifted her head, she stared at his handsome face. Why were all the guys like him so unattainable to her? Why couldn’t she find an Andy for herself?

Chapter Three

After tossing and turning half the night,
getting about two hours of sleep
, Andy crawled out of bed and dragged himself into the shower. But the hot spray did nothing to take his mind off the woman he’d
been twisting himself inside out
over for better than a year.

Calista owned his heart. She had from the day he’d moved in next door and saw her on her porch rocking in an old wooden chair swing. Abandoning her books, she’d come over to help, and he’d been blown away by the smile on her face and bright glint in her eyes. God, he’d wanted to ask her out right then, take her to some local place for dinner to say thanks for all her help. But while they’d carried boxes into his living room, she’d mentioned the guy she was seeing
at that time—the guy she had a date with later that evening. The guy who’d taken her to a cheap motel, rolled her in the sheets, and promptly disappeared the next day. Afterward, she’d put on a brave face, but her furrowed brow and sunken eyes had told of her pain.
Andy grimaced. The whole thing still
pissed him off.

Over the past year and a half, he’d watched her smile slip and the light burn out. He wanted nothing more than to show her what love could really be. He ached to hold her in his arms at night and be the one she woke up to every morning. But he’d known from the very first day, he wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for.

She liked the bad boys—basically, assholes who held an air of excitement or mystery, or whatever the hell made them attractive, but refused to settle down. So, he’d silently watched her get her heart broken over and over and offered her his shoulder to cry on when one after the other crushed her dreams.

He slicked the soap over his skin, letting his hand rest on the raging hard-on he’d had since he left her the night before.

She wasn’t a stupid girl, far from it. She worked at a local law firm as a paralegal and was taking night classes to become a lawyer. No, she was extremely intelligent—except when it came to men, in his opinion anyway. If the damn woman would just open her eyes, he could guarantee she would never have her heart broken again.

He braced one hand on the shower wall and stroked the rigid length of his erection, Calista the only thing on his mind. He wanted her, with everything in him, he longed for her. Her touch. Her mouth on his. Her body arching beneath him. His grip tightened, his strokes faster, the memory of her bottom firmly seated in his lap. He closed his eyes as he pumped his hand, bringing on a climax that was far from satisfying.

Letting his forehead rest against the tile, he slammed a fist into the wall next to him. Fuck yeah he wanted her, but he wanted all of her, heart and soul, in his life permanently and for more than a damn leaning post. Maybe it was time to show her what was right in front of her.

He left the shower, dried off, and grabbed a pair of jeans and light blue T-shirt—no need to dress in anything more, he didn’t have to be at the restaurant for hours. But Calista would be leaving soon for work, and he wanted to walk with her. Time to start being proactive in his life.