Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (10 page)

“Keep your idea zipped up. We have work to do.” She pointed across the street. “Starting with taking inventory in the decorations trailer, and then sorting, boxing, and labeling. It will be tedious and exhausting, which is what I need right about now.” She gave him a tight smile.

“Oh it will be exhausting for sure. But I don’t know about tedious.” He touched her arm again, letting his fingers slide slowly away. “I have an appointment this afternoon, so our…ah…time in the trailer will have to be tomorrow. Can you wait?”

No. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to…yeah. And that was the problem.

“Of course,” she answered with a shrug. “See you.”

And without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, her heels echoing on the narrow wooden steps. It wasn’t much of an exit, but at least she could breathe now. So she filled her lungs with air and let it out slowly as she walked across the street to go fetch Lola from Christmas Crazies. She took another breath. Better.

And tomorrow? She wasn’t going to play his game. Tomorrow was all about moving forward, making plans, and getting back on track. Figuring out how to sideline Ink Fest. Proceeding with planning a huge, impressive Fourth of July parade, no matter what.

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Blair sat outside Debbie’s Doughnuts at a brand-new café table, pretending to work. The morning dew covering the grass on the town commons across the street was rolling off in waves as the temperature climbed surprisingly quickly. She eyed her steaming cup of coffee with distaste. The doughnut sitting next to it didn’t look much better, and she pressed her palm against her gurgling stomach.

Turning her head, she gave a long look at the darkened windows of Skinnovations and her stomach protested again, loudly this time. It had to be some kind of sign, right? To stay away from Ben. So what was she doing sitting here, a few yards from his studio? He wasn’t open until noon, and she wasn’t supposed to meet him until later in the afternoon. Was she hoping that he would pop his head out of the doorway and see her sitting on the sidewalk?
Yes.

And then what? He’d flirt. She’d flirt back.

That wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Looking back down at the table, she eyed her list, which she’d rethought and rewritten only an hour before. Several long columns of items relating to the parade contest stared back up at her and she realized, her upset stomach crumpling, that she could use some input to narrow down some of the ideas.

She needed the accounting girls, who were sitting right inside.

With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and poked her head inside the doughnut shop. There they were, clustered around a table, their heads together.

The place was surprisingly empty, otherwise. Good.

Blair glanced across the room. “Hi again, Debbie. Where’s your usual crowd?”

“Senior-citizen field trip to the city,” Debbie answered as she slid a tray of fresh doughnuts into the glass case.

“Okay.” Blair turned to the accounting girls and gave them a sunny smile. “Hey, ladies.”

Sheila’s head popped up from the huddle. “Hi, Blair. Are you ready?”

Blair frowned. “For…?”

“To talk about parade plans, of course.” Sheila grinned.

Blair winked at her. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Logic.” Sheila tapped her temple. “And the fact that we’ve been watching you sitting outside making your list. How exciting!” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in the woman’s voice and Blair smiled.

“It is exciting. Parades always are. When do you think you three will be available for a meeting?”

Paula patted the empty seat next to her. “Come on, then.”

“Oh. Well, I need to get my things…” Blair glanced back out the door.

“Have a seat. Nobody will mess with your stuff. Besides, we can keep an eye on it right through the window,” Barb said brightly. She dug in her bag, produced a pen, and yanked napkins from the holder in the middle of the table. “I’ll take notes.”

“Um, okay.” With a last glance out the doorway at her list sitting on the table and her bag slung over the chair, Blair walked into the shop and sat on the edge of the offered seat. “So the theme I’m considering is American Families.”

“Who’s the parade marshal?” asked Sheila.

“Isn’t Ivy always the parade marshal?” Blair’s eyes widened.

All three women shook their heads. “The mayor only does Easter and Christmas,” Barb said. “And since this is the biggest parade we’ve ever had, you’ll have to find somebody
famous
.”

Sheila nudged her. “
We
could help find someone.”

Paula nodded, resting her chin on her long fingers. “Consider it done. I know people who know people in Syracuse. I’ll dig up someone perfect.”

Blair closed her eyes briefly.
Great. Just great.
“Run it by me first. If Ivy isn’t it, then you’re right—we need someone famous.”

Suddenly, something clicked in Blair’s mind.

Famous. If there really was a famous person as the parade marshal, people would flock to Celebration. There would be so many people watching the parade, the police would have to limit the number in order to keep the emergency routes clear.

Usually when
that
happened, there had to be tickets distributed. And if all the tickets were gone, well ahead of time, there wouldn’t be room for Ink Fest. At least not on parade day.

Blair sucked in a breath. “Oh,
yes
.”

“What?” Barb said excitedly. “Did you think of someone famous?”

“What?” Blair glanced at her. “Uh…not yet. I lost my train of thought.” She let out a laugh and flapped her hands. “Don’t mind me. When I get creative, I get scatterbrained.”

Not really.
But the accounting girls didn’t need to know that.

She nodded at them. “So, back to the American Family theme. The subtheme I’ve given it, which will be the focus, is Let Freedom Ring.”

They stared at her, slightly bemused, but she barreled right on. “I’m planning to divide the subtheme into two categories—both of which are patriotic—Founding Fathers is the first. American Landmarks is the second. I’m keeping it simple.”

The women exchanged glances.

“Sounds kind of complicated. What do landmarks have to do with families?” Barb asked.

“Well, for Founding Fathers…a float could be a family reenacting George Washington crossing the Delaware.” Blair paused. “Or for American Landmarks, it could be a family holding hands around the Washington monument.”

“On…floats?” Paula asked doubtfully.

“Yes, of course,” Blair answered with a confidence that she didn’t quite feel. Now that she saw the idea from the perspective of the accounting girls, it did seem overly ambitious for Celebration. But it had to happen—even if she ended up building the floats herself. There was no other way to win the contest.

Sheila made a small sound, and Blair patted her hand. “I know it’s ambitious. But this is
Celebration
. We can do it. And those floats are just examples—individual families can simplify them a little bit.” She paused. “Only a little, though. I have confidence once they are assigned their unique themes within the subtheme, hopefully they will be inspired to go the extra mile.”

Nobody said anything, but Barb drew an
X
across whatever she’d written on her napkin.

Blair held back a sigh. “I can…
we
can have, say, ten families participate in either category. That’s a lot of floats to build, but with each family working on their own, and with the parade fund supplying the materials, it shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

The women blinked at her and she gave them a cautious smile. “Sound good?”

There was a moment of silence and then Sheila pursed her lips. “Let me get this straight. You want to pigeonhole people? What happened to freedom of expression? This
is
about the Fourth of July, right?”

Blair let out the sigh she’d been holding in. “Yes! But we can’t have a line of random floats with no organization. We’d probably end up with five or six different statues of Liberty and a bunch of George Washingtons. It would be messy-looking. It would be cock-eyed. It would be—”

“It would be Celebration,” Sheila cut her off. “What’s wrong with that?”

Blair met three pairs of hostile eyes.
Damn.
She shifted on the chair and laced her fingers over her middle. “Nothing’s wrong with Celebration. I’m trying to help the town win that contest. We need the money in the budget for future events. We need to win.”

I need to win. I have to win, or I’m stuck.
She pushed the thought away and glanced toward the counter, where Debbie was obviously listening. “What do you think, Debbie?”

Debbie shook her head, the chain on her glasses swinging with the motion. “Sheila is right. You’re right, too.”

“That’s helpful, Debbie,” Sheila said with a sniff.

“You’re welcome.” She walked around the counter and folded her arms over her pig-print apron. “Why don’t you get another opinion, though?”

“Who?” Blair looked around the small dining room at the empty tables and chairs.

Debbie pointed at the window with a smile and Blair turned, her stomach dropping as she spotted Ben, who leaned over the table outside, flipping through her list. A second later, she shot to her feet and jerked the door open.

“What are you doing?”

He turned then, the warm sun glinting off the lock of dark hair that had escaped his small ponytail. There was a wicked sparkle in his eyes and she sucked in a breath. Why did he have to be so
handsome
? As if sensing the reaction that raced through her, he gave her a slow smile.

“I’m helping you.” His voice was rich and mellow.

“When I need your help, I’ll ask. Like later. I’ll probably ask later when we meet at the trailer to
work
.” Her voice came out clipped and she took a couple of steps forward, pulling the handle of her bag from the back of the café chair. “Could I have my list, please?”

“Just a sec.” He flipped the pages back and carefully ripped an oblong section from the top sheet. Her jaw dropped open.

“That’s my list!”

“Your precious list. Mmm.” He drew the sound out into a moan as if…as if…her face felt hot.

“Are you making fun of me?” she demanded, jerking the notebook out of his hands.

He stared at her, still grinning. “A little bit.” Waving the scrap of paper in the air, he turned to leave. “I’ll take care of this.” He tucked it into his jeans.

Her hand shot out and wrapped around his steely arm. “Give me that.”

With surging alarm, Blair stepped around him and squeezed her hand into his pocket, yanking the list back out. Ignoring his deep chuckle, she scanned the order-extra-office-supplies column. “Oh.” He could handle that.

“Yeah. A trained monkey could do that part, Blair, so I’m assuming you’ll trust me with it,” he commented, a trace of annoyance breaking through his playful tone.

She flicked a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sure.”

His glance slid from her face to her middle and she glanced down at her breasts, which rose and fell with rapid breaths. Her notebook fell out of her hands, and she watched as it bounced on the sidewalk once and then landed in the street next to the curb.

“Careful, or it will end up like your shoe,” Ben said as he backtracked and picked the notebook off the ground. He held it out and she stared at his strong fingers.

“My what?”

“Your shoe…the Easter parade?”

“Oh.” That seemed like a million years ago. But it had only been six days.
Six days?
Her mind whirling, she took the notebook from him and clasped it to her chest. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He scratched his ear. “Um, look. I hate to do this, but I won’t be able to help you this afternoon. I… Starling and Grizz are still in town and we’re talking shop. It doesn’t have anything to do with Ink Fest,” he said quickly.

“Oh.” Disappointment mixed with a hint of jealousy made Blair look away. When she glanced back at him, she smiled. “Not a big deal.”

He nodded. “I feel like I need to be a good host. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Okay.”

He stared at her for a second, his eyes almost regretful. Or maybe she imagined that—maybe it was only some dust. He
was
blinking.

She was, too. And staring at him.

The bell above the door of the doughnut shop jingled and she tore her gaze away, turning to the accounting girls with a pained smile.

“So, ladies, I’m glad we had a talk, and I’m very grateful for your input.”

Sheila, Paula, and Barb stopped on the sidewalk, their lips pursed. Finally Sheila spoke up. “You’re welcome. We’ve discussed it and decided your idea is okay. But you shouldn’t force families to dress up as stuff they don’t want to be. And if there’s more than one Statue of Liberty, so be it. As long we stay organized, of course.”

It was on the tip of Blair’s tongue to argue, but she held it. “Fine. You want to meet here next week, same time for a progress report?”

The women exchanged glances and then leaned to the side, peeking around Blair to ogle at Ben. “Only if
he’s
invited,” said Paula with a giggle.

Ben coughed.

Shrugging her bag higher on her shoulder, Blair gathered up her lukewarm coffee and half-eaten doughnut from the table. “I think I’ll go…do some more planning.”
Planning to put all thoughts of gorgeous tattoo artists out of my mind.

Chapter Nine

“Not to add fuel to the fire,” Lola said on Friday morning, “but I’m pretty sure that your parade contest might blow up in your face if you don’t play your cards right. You need to loosen up, darling.”

Blair grabbed a box of Raisin Bran from her aunt’s kitchen cabinet and plunked it on the counter. “Ya think?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, young lady,” Lola shot back, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I’m on your side. Good heavens.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Blair sighed as she shook flakes into a bowl and poured milk on top of them. “But I had no idea that Sheila Simmons was going to go gossiping all over town about how I’m trying to suck the life out of Celebration’s Fourth of July parade.”

“What gave you the idea that she wasn’t a gossip?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Blair moaned. “I’ve been distracted. So distracted that I haven’t even set up my workspace. I don’t want to start work on Monday in that rat-trap trailer. I’m cleaning it
today
.”

Kaley trudged into the kitchen. “Is that why you’re dressed like a serial killer?”

Blair glanced down at her perfectly sensible long-sleeved T-shirt, old jeans, and boots. “Uh, what about
this
outfit made you arrive at serial killer?”

“You look like a hitchhiker,” Kaley explained.

“Yeah, you pegged me. I’m going to go stand out on the highway as soon as I finish cleaning the trailer. For fun.”

Kaley shrugged and gave up her lame attempt to get a rise out of Blair. She sighed, too. “O. M. F. G.”

“Care to translate your text speak for me, dear?” Lola pushed a glass of orange juice toward Kaley.

She shook her head. “I want coffee.”

“You drink enough coffee after school with your friends,” Blair commented, carrying her cereal to the table. “And, Lola, Kaley said thank God it’s Friday.”

Lola snorted. “I think you gave me the clean version, but so be it. Now listen, Blair, I know it feels like you’re pushing a boulder up a mountain right now, but all it’s going to take is a couple of wonderful events—managed by you—and the town will come around. In a month or so, they’ll be full of enthusiasm. Probably be begging you to make that parade contest even bigger.”

“That would be nice.” Blair poked at a raisin with her spoon.

Kaley drained her juice and reached into the cabinet for a coffee mug. “I can probably get some friends to help out with floats,” she said grudgingly. “So what are you working on now?” She reached for the coffeepot, but Lola smacked her hand. With a sigh, she grabbed the box of cereal and joined Blair at the table.

“Figuring out how to pay for the parade contest.” Blair grabbed her notebook and waved it in the air. “I have a lot of ideas for fund-raisers.” She thumped the list back down on the table. “But! I have to get that trailer organized before I can do anything. And after that, I’m going to plan the May Day event. And then I’m going to try to get monthly craft fairs going on the town commons.”

“I know one old lady who will love that,” Kaley said, munching on a handful of cereal.

Lola chuckled. “I’ll be there will bells on. All of that sounds
really
promising, darling. Is Ben Lambert going to help you with all of this?”

Blair paused, her spoon in midair. “I assume so.”

God knew what she was going to do about Ben, who had probably taken a step back, realized what a bad idea it was to pursue her and was avoiding her like the plague. His excuse for not coming to work yesterday
had
been pretty sketchy. But the way he’d looked at her…that searching, almost hungry look…

“Argh,” she muttered.

“He’s an enigma, isn’t he?” Lola said, a smile creasing her face. “So handsome, too.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Who?” She looked back down at her soggy flakes, her face growing warm.

Lola laughed. “Okay, I’ll let it go. So how is my wedding planning going?”

Gratefully, Blair looked up and reached across the table for her list. “Not bad, but it would be nice if you set a date, Lola.”

Lola flapped her hand. “A minor detail.”

Blair shook her head and went on. “I can book the gazebo on the town commons for the ceremony and the senior center for the reception. I’ll run out to Sunnyside and look over the reception rooms. Do you care which one you get?”

“Hmm.” Lola tapped her chin. “The one that looks out on the garden would be nice. As long as that old harpy Colleen Callahan doesn’t get her way.”

“Colleen…Ivy’s grandmother?”

“Yes. Do you know she wants to fill the front section of that lovely reception room with a bunch of lethal-looking cactus plants? As if they would grow up here anyway. She says they remind her of Arizona, but I couldn’t care less. She isn’t the
only
resident at Sunnyside. You know what she said about me the other day?”

Blair stared at her. “I’m sure it’s shocking, but could we get back on track?”

“Thank you, Blair.” Kaley grabbed her backpack. “Besides I have to be in homeroom in ten minutes.”

“Of course.” Lola waved a hand at Blair. “Any idea when I’ll get my car back, darling? I mean, you’re welcome to use it, of course, but I’d like to do some shopping.”

“I know. It’s on the top of my list, and I’m going over to Bill’s car lot after work to look.”

Lola shook her head. “No, no. You haven’t met him yet, and I want to introduce him properly. Let’s have a nice dinner tomorrow tonight and he can come over. You worry about getting a car on Monday.”

Blair stared at her list mournfully. Up until a week ago, everything she put on it got crossed off, in order. Every day. And now? She was like a gerbil on a wheel, remaking the same list over and over, with the stupid, idealistic hope that she’d be able to accomplish something. So far? She’d done nothing but put the moves on Ben, wander around a musty trailer, and decapitate an Easter chick. What would today bring?

She didn’t even want to think about it.

“Uh, that will be fine, Lola. But why don’t you play chauffeur today? I don’t need the car since I’ll be knee-deep in party decorations.”

“With that totally yum tattoo guy,” Kaley said. “What are you waiting for?”

Blair didn’t answer her. She grabbed her list, slipped it in her purse, and walked out the back door. And as Lola and Kaley climbed into the car, anticipation spread through her middle. What
would
happen today? Because if she was going to make an
honest
prediction, which she was pretty good at doing, she’d say that Ben hadn’t really backed off.

And if she was going to be analytical about it, she didn’t want him to. But she had to at least
try
to not want it. She couldn’t do her job if her tongue was examining Ben’s tonsils. She had to focus, for her future’s sake.

When Lola pulled the car over next to the school, Blair twisted around in the front seat to smile at her cousin. “Thanks for offering to help with the parade floats.”

Kaley blinked at her for a second. “Um. You’re welcome.” Then with a goofy grin, she hopped out of the car and ran up the sidewalk.

“She’s a good girl, all things considered,” Lola said as she drove the few blocks to downtown.

“She is.” Blair twisted her purse strap.

Lola stopped the car next to the trailer and squeezed Blair’s hand. “You’re a good girl, too. But I have a piece of advice. Don’t forget to behave like a woman.”

Blair frowned. “What does that mean? I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Yes,” Lola interrupted. “You’re capable of so much, darling. Including falling in love.”

“Falling in love? That’s nuts.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But I guess I should expect it, coming from someone who’s love crazy.”

Lola smiled. “It’s the best kind of crazy I’ve ever experienced. I highly recommend it.” When Blair didn’t answer, she winked at her. “Now get out of my car. I have snacks to buy for the book-club meeting.”

Blair didn’t hesitate. She slid out of the passenger seat, tossed a wave over her shoulder, and climbed the wobbly cinder-block steps of the trailer. With stiff fingers, she pushed the key in the rusty lock and opened the door. A warm wave of air, tinged with the nasty smell of animal droppings, greeted her.

“Eww.”

She didn’t have time to mull over Lola’s cryptic comment, because this problem demanded immediate attention. As she stepped into the living room with her hand over her mouth, a rustling noise stopped her in her tracks. It came from beyond the kitchen, near the bathroom door. She looked down the dark hallway, stacked head-high with boxes.

She shuddered but gave herself a mental shake. She could handle this.

Glancing behind her, she pushed the door open wider with her foot in case she needed to make a quick escape, and then, tiptoeing, she crossed the creaky kitchen floor and placed her purse on the table. The rustling got louder, followed by some chirpy clicking noises that made her stomach flip over. She carefully slid open a kitchen drawer and untangled a flashlight from a pile of junk, switching it on. The beam of light bounced over the walls and she trained it at the hallway, inching forward. “Hello?”

Why was she saying hello to what would probably turn out to be a disgusting mouse or something? Or a rat. Eww. Hopefully not, because the rats that had skittered near the sewer opening outside of her apartment in the city had been huge. Up here in Celebration, they were probably a lot bigger. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed logical, with all the fresh air and running free and all that.

Taking a deep breath through her fingers, she stepped forward, reaching out to jostle the nearest box. “Get out of here,” she commanded. “Go!”

There was silence for a minute and then the scrambling, scratching noises started up again, closer this time. Her throat thickened. She should back up, walk right out of the trailer, and call animal control. Did Celebration have animal control?

“Hey mouse. Come on. I’ve got a lot of work to—”

Then her flashlight beam caught a patch of fur and she saw it. It wasn’t a mouse. It was a
fucking
raccoon. A mama raccoon with a nest full of babies, and she hissed like a cat, her mouth wide open, little razor teeth exposed, hell-bent on tearing Blair’s face off.

With a scream, Blair stumbled backward and boxes tumbled to the floor behind her, blocking her path. With another scream, she kicked at the boxes blocking the warped bathroom door and yanked on the doorknob until there was an opening wide enough for her to squeeze through. She slammed it, and then shoved against the warped plywood until the door closed. Mostly.

“Oh shit,” she said in a whoosh of breath. “Oh,
shit
!” She couldn’t handle this.

But she had to get out of here somehow, right? One hand braced on the door, she turned and looked around the bathroom. It was square and small, with a sink, toilet, and tub. A tiny window, too small for her to crawl through, occupied the far wall and a shower-curtain rod hung crookedly above the tub. Blair narrowed her eyes at the rusty tube. A weapon. It was something.

But right as she was wrenching it loose, she heard steps crunching on the gravel outside the trailer. She let go of the rod and reached for the window, fumbling with the catch. With a grunt, she slid it sideways a couple of inches. “Hello?” The crunching noise came closer and a second later, Ben came into view, grinning.

Great. She couldn’t admit defeat now.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Blair glanced over his face. He looked tired. Gorgeous as usual, with his white teeth, scruffy pirate beard, and strong, tanned throat…but tired…and anxious. “What’s wrong?” she blurted out.

“I might ask you the same thing.” Ben walked closer to the window and looked up. “You stuck in the bathroom?”

“Not by choice.” Blair glanced behind her, but it didn’t appear as if the raccoon had managed to break through the bathroom door to murder her. She looked back at Ben. “Um—”

“I’m coming in,” he said, turning quickly and walking away.

“Wait!” Blair shoved at the window and pushed her head through. “Wait. There’s a raccoon in here.”

Ben retraced his steps. “You’re trapped in the bathroom with a raccoon?”

“No! Oh my
God
. If that thing was in here with me do you think I’d be this calm? It’s out in the hallway. She is. I think it’s a she because there are babies, too. And I’m sure it’s a raccoon, although I’ve never seen one in person,” Blair answered, her voice faltering as she heard the scratching start up in the hallway again. “Oh, God. She’s moving again.”

Incredibly, Ben threw his head back and laughed. “Hang on.” He dug in a front pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled for a second then raised it to his ear. “Joe? Do you do wild animals?” He laughed again, looking at Blair. She glared at him.

Ben chuckled. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Joe. Do you have an animal trap in your work truck?” He paused. “Nice. Got a situation down at the storage trailer. Yep. Thanks.” He hung up and looked back at Blair. “Ten minutes.”

She nodded. “Good. But why do you have the town’s maintenance manager on speed dial?”

He shrugged. “Everybody does. It’s a small town. How do you know Joe?”

She tore her gaze away from where it rested on the hard curve of his chest. “It’s a small town,” she mumbled.

This was ridiculous, sticking her head out a bathroom window and carrying on a conversation with a hot guy in an alley. An alley…which met another, darker alley in a “T” formation. And she could see that other alley right across from the trailer, running in a straight line into dim shadows. Shadows where she had given in to desire, opened herself to Ben, and—

“Well, Joe will be here in a minute,” Ben said. He eyed her curiously, his gaze resting on her lips.

Blair nodded again, angling her head and pulling back into the bathroom. She looked around for a second, her heart pounding, and then she sat down on the toilet lid. “Damn.” Was
every
day in Celebration going to be like this—unpredictable and freaky? Small towns were supposed to be sleepy and comforting and routine, not like a sideshow carnival.

And why couldn’t she control her reaction to Ben? Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had an edge. But so did a lot of guys and she wasn’t affected in the least. She’d even dated some of them, but it had been as if she was on the outside looking in and examining the relationships, clinically. Judging whether or not there was chemistry. There hadn’t been. But with Ben there was no time to judge…there wasn’t even time to think clearly. She just
felt
, and it scared the crap out of her.