Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (13 page)

“Yes. Hi there,” Ivy said, still looking up. “There’s a cobweb up there, Ben. You must have missed it.”

She nodded, not looking at him. “Well, in any case, it’s great. What can I do for you, Ivy?”

Ivy smiled. It was a knowing smile and Blair had to stop herself from wincing. “I came by to apologize. I had no
clue
this place was so gross. And I’m sorry I didn’t come find you last week.” She rolled her eyes. “When I get bombarded, I lose track. Gotta work on that.”

“It’s okay,” Blair said automatically. “On to better things, right? We’ll have a May Day event, and I’d like to talk to you about a monthly craft fair. There’s the Spring Fling dance, too. I think we could rent a reception room at the senior center for that. I…I’ve been meaning to schedule a meeting with you, but just…got busy.”

No she hadn’t, but how was she supposed to tell her boss that Ben had eaten up her ability to focus?

Ivy shook her head. “No need to schedule. I owe you that much after your first week from hell. Love the craft fair. Run with it. And pop by my office anytime, okay?”

“Okay.” Blair shifted away from Ben, who had been inching closer and looked as if he might put his arms around her again.

“Great job, Ben,” Ivy said, looking around the room. Her eyes lit up and she turned around. “Hey. I have an idea!”

Ben groaned and Blair poked him in the ribs. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Double date. You and Ben. Marcus and me.” She walked to the front door of the trailer and yelled out, “Hey, you. Come in here a sec.” With a grin, she turned around. “It’ll be fun, especially since the only people we go out with are my parents. They’re fun, too, but…yeah. You know?”

Blair wasn’t sure she knew anything at that moment.
Double date?
“I…kind of, I guess?” She sneaked a glance at Ben.

“Hmm,” he said. His eyes were twinkling.

“What is it?” A smooth, masculine voice interrupted her thoughts. Then a tall, perfectly groomed man in a suit wedged his broad shoulders through the doorway. Blair’s eyebrows rose. He looked like a
GQ
model. “You know we’re late,” he said.

“Oh, calm down,” Ivy told him. “Blair, this is my husband, Marcus Weaver. Marcus, Blair.”

Marcus smiled and walked forward. “Pleasure.”

Blair leaned forward to shake his hand “Likewise.”

Marcus’s smile turned to a grin. He cut his sharp blue eyes over to Ivy, who was looking at her watch.

“Shit. We
are
late. I’m speaking at a brunch out at Sunnyside.”

Ben cleared his throat. “How does Friday night sound?”

“For what?” Marcus asked.

“We’re going out, Mister Homebody,” Ivy said. “No arguments.”

Marcus raised his hands. “Fine.”

“That’s settled then.” Ivy took her husband’s arm and walked to the door. “I mean it, Blair. Stop by my office anytime. Can’t wait to see what you do with May Day.” With a wave, she and Marcus disappeared.

The door closed with a soft
thunk
and Blair whirled around to walk into the living room. “Well that wasn’t the least bit awkward.”

“Glad you think so.” Ben winked at her. “Friday should be fun, yeah?”

She nodded.

A date. With Ben. Which she was probably going to obsess about for the rest of the week, wasn’t she? Yeah.

Friday was a long time away.

Chapter Twelve

Waiting had never been Blair’s strong suit, so the next day, she skipped lunch in favor of wandering over to Ben’s studio. She needed to talk to him about the plans for Ink Fest anyway, and she’d only been inside of his tattoo studio a couple of times. Both legitimate reasons for stopping by. At least that’s what she told herself. So why was her heart hammering as she pulled open the door and walked inside the place?

A grin that she couldn’t quite stop stretched her cheeks, and she looked around, expecting at least a few people to look up—probably suspiciously—at the so-obviously-not-a-tattoo-client walking into the studio. But it was empty. Her gaze darting around, she tried to really look this time—taking in the black-painted cement floor and the artwork on the walls. It was easier to look at the skull art now—especially since her little research session last night when she’d sat in front of her computer.

She’d gotten lost in her research, actually—first looking at equipment and then flicking through online image galleries of tattoo designs. There were some disturbing images out there, but also some gorgeous artwork. Ben’s designs fell into the gorgeous category and though she didn’t know much yet, his talent and the uniqueness of his designs were a cut above a lot of the stuff she’d pored over.

She actually recognized some of the equipment flanking the black padded tattoo chair, and as she took a step forward, she studied the wall next to the tall counter, which was plastered with a health-department certificate and a large sign that read
If You’re Under 18, Come Back When You’re Not.
Another sign read
No Haggling. Just Brag to Your Friends When You Leave.

She wasn’t here to haggle. She was here to…what was it again?

Present some ideas for Ink Fest, ideas that could easily be implemented anywhere. Anywhere other than the town commons, that was. An uneasy laugh escaped her lips and she looked up when she heard rustling from an open doorway on the far right-hand side of the room.

Ben appeared a few seconds later, his hands braced on either side of the doorway. He stood still for a moment, and then his wickedly handsome face relaxed into a smile. “Hey, Blair.”

“Hi. Thought I’d stop by and see…what’s going on,” she said weakly, wanting to kick herself. She sounded definitely weird and maybe even a little bit…desperate? Hopefully not.

But Ben didn’t seem to think anything was weird. He walked toward her, his hands in his jeans pockets. “Cool.”

Nervously, Blair hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. “So…am I interrupting something?”

“No.” He shrugged and leaned on the counter. “Business is light today.”

“Okay.” She stared down at his fingers, which he rubbed against the metal trim surrounding the edge of the countertop, remembering the feel of them on her body. She drew in a breath. “So, I was wondering…I mean, I’d love it if you’d show me your equipment.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment while she digested them and within a couple of seconds, her face was flaming hot, remembering his hardness cradled between her thighs as he’d kissed her senseless.

“I can manage that.” He raised his eyebrows and started to smirk, but to his credit, he played it cool. “Come and have a look.” Inclining his head, he walked to the tattoo chair and patted the seat. “Try it out.”

She smiled. “Sure.” Setting her purse on the counter, she followed him over and hitched herself onto the chair, settling her back into it. “Comfy.”

He laughed and sat on the low stool next to her. “It has to be.” Swiveling on the stool, he reached onto a small counter and picked a piece of machinery up from where it lay on top of a neatly spread towel. “Remember this?”

“Nope.” She paused, grinning. “It’s a nail gun, right?”

For a second Ben’s face froze, and then he burst out laughing, the sound rich and deep. “Ouch. This is my tattoo machine.” He turned it over carefully in his hands, pointing to various places. “This is where the needles attach. These are the springs. Here are the coils. And this is where the power supply attaches.”

“You plug it in to the wall?”

He smiled. “No. It goes to a battery.”

“So where is the ink?”

Ben set down the machine and opened a cabinet underneath the counter. “Stored here. I only use a little bit at a time, poured into disposable caps.”

Blair knew that from her research, but she nodded. “No turning back once you start, huh?”

“Well, it’s meant to be permanent, that’s for sure.”

She gazed at him, searching for something else to say. “How did you get into tattooing?”

He ran a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “I started out wanting to be a commercial artist, but everything I sketched just…looked like tattoos. I studied all types of mediums, but I kept coming back to line art. Then I studied the history of tattooing, and I got hooked. Made it my ambition.” He paused. “Took a long time, though.”

“Why is that?” Blair folded her hands in her lap to keep them still.

“I didn’t have any money.” He laughed. “Correction—didn’t know how to live
without
money. But I learned.”

“You…grew up wealthy?”

A shadow passed across his face. “Yeah. Left it behind the first chance I got. My parents made it easy. They cut me off.” He glanced at her and then down at his hands. “Not sure why I told you that.”

She stared at him. “It’s okay. When was the last time you talked to them?”

“Ten years?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have Grizz. He taught me how to tattoo, and he’s been a great friend.”

“Does he…know about your struggle with your parents?”

“I wouldn’t call it a struggle. More like a clean break. But no. Grizz never asked, and I never offered. It’s easier to keep things separated.” He looked at her, his jaw set—almost in a challenge. Almost as if she would pry further.

Blair reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’d like to say I know how you feel, but I don’t. My mother handed me off to Aunt Lola when I was less than a day old. Not sure that counts for anything.”

Ben looked down at where her fingers rested on the soft cotton of his T-shirt. “And your dad?”

“No clue.”

They were silent for a moment, not moving, and then Ben leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then he kissed her lips, lingering there—drawing a sigh from her mouth. His kiss was soft and tender—it made her heart swell. When he pulled away and she opened her eyes, he gave her a slow smile. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“Too easy,” she said on a rush of breath. Because it was true. Despite the fact that his mere presence sent her hormones into overdrive, she felt completely comfortable talking to him. It was strange. A bit scary. So she smiled back, pushed away from the chair, and swung her legs over the edge. “So, enough about me. How about Ink Fest?”

He chuckled, his breath tickling the side of her cheek. “How about it?”

“Um”—she stood up—“I’ve been working on the layout of the vendor booths. And some theme ideas.”

“Oh yeah?”

As she walked toward the counter, Blair peeked at him from the corner of her eye. How could he sound so casual all of the time? “Yeah,” she answered, unzipping her purse with fumbling fingers. “You want to take a look?”

“Sure.”

She turned around, a folder in her hands. “You do realize that I don’t know jack squat about tattoo festivals aside from the research I’ve done?”

“That’s okay.” He stood up from the stool and stretched, his chest expanding.

Blair barely kept her mouth from unhinging at the sight of his long, solid torso…and his arms—covered in those impossibly intricate, menacing-looking pirate ships. She wanted them around her, his fingers running down her back.

“Who did your tattoos?” she blurted out.

“Grizz. We collaborated on the designs.” He twisted one arm, admiring it. “All I have to do is look at them and be inspired to do my best work, every time I give someone a tattoo.”

She nodded. “I’d like to try again—to watch you in action, that is. If it would be okay.”

“Sure.” He walked toward her, his eyes gleaming with…something.

“How’s tomorrow?” she said quickly, grabbing her purse and swinging it over her shoulder.
Damn. Could she sound more eager?

He stopped next to the counter, and the grin fell away from his face. He shook his head. “I don’t have any clients tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“But business will pick up soon.”

She gave him an encouraging smile and gestured toward the framed drawings on the wall. “I’m sure it will. You’re obviously very good.”

“Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence and she nodded. “So…about the booth layout?”

“Let’s get some lunch, and then I’ll take you on a downtown tour. Sound good? And if you’re not busy tonight, you could show me those plans for Ink Fest. Unless tonight’s too soon?”

Too soon? She was ready now. Too ready, and for a lot more than just a business meeting.

“That would be fine,” she managed. “Thanks for showing me around your studio.”

He gazed at her, a world of promise in his eyes. “My pleasure.”

Blair gazed back, a smile curving her lips. He didn’t know that she was picturing him shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips. Or did he? She let out a self-conscious laugh.

He grinned. “So…lunch?”

“At the Lovin’ Cup?”

“There’s no place else to go unless you want to make a picnic out of Hostess cupcakes and slushies from the convenience store down the block.”

She shuddered. “That would be a no.”

“And it’s supposed to rain. So that settles it.” Ben grabbed her hand and led her across Enterprise Street. When they reached the other side, she wiggled free—the warm strength of his palm sent electric thrills through her and she couldn’t deal. Not right now.

“I haven’t been to the diner yet,” she told him.

He gave her a teasing glance and stuffed both hands in his jeans pockets. “It’s tasty enough. But I wouldn’t advise ordering the chili.”

“Oh?” Blair stepped onto the sidewalk bisecting the commons and walked beside him. “Why not?”

“It sucks. It’s like roadkill mixed with ketchup.”

“You’ve…tasted roadkill?” Blair couldn’t resist asking. “Was it crunchy?”

Ben chuckled. “Okay, now you’re making me lose my appetite and that’s pretty hard to do.” He elbowed her gently. “Don’t tell Crystal I warned you off the chili, or you might end up as roadkill yourself.”

After jaywalking across Main Street, she looked up at him innocently. “I wouldn’t dare. I have a ton of things to do before I die.”

“What’s on the top of your list, Firefly?” he asked.

She paused outside the glass door of the diner. “Win that parade contest,” she answered firmly. At least she could be honest about that.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

He shrugged and opened the door for her. “I don’t know…guess I thought you’d pick something more…personal.”

“I don’t have much time for personal.”

As she stepped inside the small diner, Ben waved to the small crowd of customers and then bent to whisper in her ear. “You’d be a lot less…frustrated if you made time for it.”

Frustrated?
Like—sexually? Was that what he’d meant? Of course it was.

Well—she might want him so bad that she was practically vibrating, but she wasn’t
desperate
. Okay, a little desperate, but she could control herself. Jesus, she’d resolved to control herself. What had happened to that?

She narrowed her eyes at him, narrowing them even farther when he laughed.

“Let’s eat,” he said, gesturing to an empty booth near the window.

Shaking her head, Blair walked across the worn black-and-white tile floor and slid onto a vinyl seat. Whipping a menu out of a metal holder at the end of the table, she began to flip through it.

Ben slid in opposite her. “I’m just saying,” he commented.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, looking at him over the edge of the menu. His brown eyes were full of mischief, and his lips were twitching. She glanced at his strong throat and then back at his eyes. He winked.

She returned her gaze to the menu. “How’s the club sandwich?”

“Passable.”

“Good enough.” She closed the menu and put it back, then folded her hands on the table. Ben did, too—and his fingers rested on top of hers, sending heat and electricity racing through her. For the second time that day, she pulled her hands away, this time reaching for her purse. “Um—I have my preliminary ideas for Ink Fest right here.”

“Blair.”

She looked up, her tongue tracing her lower lip. “What?” Didn’t he realize that he couldn’t toy with her in public? She might crawl across the table and right onto his lap. She needed to redirect him, and the easiest way to do that was to bring up the idea of moving his festival.

Ben didn’t say anything for a moment, but then he sat back, lacing his hands behind his head. “Nothing. Go ahead.”

With a nod, Blair pulled out a folder and opened it. “So, the first thing to consider is what to do if it rains during the festival.”

“I’d like to think positive and assume that it won’t.”

She smiled at him. “It might. And if it does, then you need an alternate venue.”

“Nope.” He smiled back.

Opening her mouth, Blair looked up at him but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crystal bearing down on them, so she arranged her face in a pleasant expression.

Ben chuckled again and waved at Crystal, who plunked down two glasses of water on the table. “Hey, Crys. How’s the arm?”

“A little achy, but I’ll live. An awesome tattoo is worth a little bit of short-term pain.” She sat down in the booth next to Ben. “But my
feet
are already killing me and lunch has barely started.”

Blair smiled at her. “Hi. I don’t think we actually met yesterday. I’m Blair Whitaker.”

Crystal reached across the table and shook her hand. “Crystal Waters. You’re the talk of the town, you know.”

Blair knew. So she nodded. “Yeah…I’m the chick killer. But I’ll make it up to everybody with the May Day festival.”

“And the Fourth of July parade, right? You wouldn’t believe some of the talk I hear in this place about that,” Crystal said.