Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

As twilight fell, Ben paused to roll down the window of his truck to take a deep breath of fresh air before exiting the interstate and turning onto the two-lane highway that led to Celebration.

What a way to spend a Friday afternoon—driving all the way to Syracuse to Grizz’s studio for an emergency ink supply. He’d left Starling in charge of Skinnovations, and while she was a fantastic artist, she had been acting even nuttier than usual. Her stint as a guest artist had been up a week ago, but she’d stayed on. He could have asked her to leave, of course, but that would involve keeping tabs on her to make sure she came back to headline the festival.

Driving down the highway, he passed the town-limits sign, and as he crested the hill, a small huddled figure came into view on the shoulder. A girl.

Frowning, he slowed down and swung away from the edge of the road to give her room. The truck was a few yards past her before Ben realized who it was. The defensive posture. The hoodie. Kaley. Looking in the rearview mirror, he braked and pulled over. She stopped walking and then whirled around, running the opposite direction. Shit.

Pushing open the door, Ben hopped onto the ground. “Kaley, it’s okay! It’s me, Ben,” he called.

She froze, but didn’t turn around.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. You all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said thickly.

She’d been crying. With a sigh, Ben rolled his shoulders and trudged back up the hill toward her. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“No.”

“Kaley…”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she said sarcastically, turning around. Her eyes were ringed with black and suddenly Ben remembered how Blair had looked that day in Ivy’s office. The day she’d accepted the job as community-events director. It seemed like such a long time ago…she had looked confused. A bit lost. Exactly the way Kaley looked now.

He gave her a gentle smile. “How would you be imposing in your own home?”

“Aren’t you and Blair going to get it on?” She looked directly at him, her eyes glittering with tears.

“Not that I’m aware. What gave you that idea?”

She shrugged. “She’s been really stressed lately. And I thought she could use a night alone with you, so I told her to call you.” Giving him an appraising look, she folded her arms. “Didn’t she call you?”

No, she hadn’t.

But Kaley was right—Blair had been stressed, and all of it was over the bullshit with Ink Fest and the parade contest.

He ignored Kaley’s question. “So where have you been?”

“I told Blair I was spending the night with a friend.”

“So what are you doing out here alone?” He shook his head. “Even in Celebration, that’s dangerous. Where were you going…back to the city?”

“God! People always assume the worst of me,” she burst out. “I
was
at my friend’s. Her parents live over there.” Kaley pointed across the empty field next to the road at a house in the distance, its lights winking in the falling shadows. “Then Cassidy, that bitch, showed up and I left. Simple as that.” With a venomous look, she brushed past him and walked to his truck.

He followed and got in beside her. “Sorry. I know that Blair worries about you.”

“Yeah, she worries about everything,” Kaley muttered. “Like, I’m surprised she doesn’t have an ulcer the size of Canada. It’s stressful just
living
with her. Why can’t I have a normal family like everybody else?”

As he put the truck into gear, Ben glanced at her. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a normal family, either.”

“I’ll bet you at least know who your dad is, though, right?” Kaley looked out the window.

Ben let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah.”

“Is he an asshole?” She allowed a small smile but then steeled her expression again.

“If you call a man who only cares about money—and the stuff that goes along with it—an asshole, then yeah. He’s a grade-A example.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Oh my God. You’re
rich
, aren’t you?”

He inclined his head forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Kaley let out a suffering sigh. “Can’t I hang out at your studio?”

“Hell no. You’re not old enough. How about after I take you home…I come in and run interference with Blair?” he asked casually.

“Ew. And then what? Send me to my room and tell me to put my earbuds in?”

He laughed again.

She didn’t comment, and as they drove down Main Street, he glanced across the commons at Skinnovations. It was the only store lit up, and several cars were parked in front. Looking at the place sent a wave of pride through him, but a wave of apprehension, too. He’d done it—managed to make his studio a success. Managed to make a name for himself, but not the way he wanted to. He’d had Starling’s help, which he hadn’t wanted at all.

Jerking his eyes back to the road, he elbowed Kaley’s arm. “I won’t tell her where I found you.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She glanced at him, opening her mouth, but she shut it again.

“What?” he asked.

“Just…say something good to her. About
her
. She’d kill me if she knew I said this, but…I think she loves you.”

A thrill shot through Ben’s chest, and his breath hitched. Numbly, he nodded, turning onto the narrow street where Blair and Kaley lived. “Okay.”

When he parked, Kaley jumped out and jogged up the front steps. For someone who didn’t want to go home, she seemed in a big hurry, disappearing into the house and leaving the front door cracked open. Warm light spilled onto the porch. An invitation.

He shut off the engine and followed, pausing on the porch to press a hand against his heart. Did Blair really love him? He thought she might. He hoped she did. But hearing it from someone else’s mouth made the idea all the more real. It also made the idea that he could screw it all up even
more
real. He didn’t want to screw it up. Not now.

Swallowing, he pulled open the screen door and pushed the thick oak front door farther open. The tantalizing smell of something sweet—cookies?—reached his nostrils and he inhaled, wondering what it would be like to come home to that, and Blair, all the time. Suddenly, he was nervous and part of him wanted to bolt. The other part forced his steps to the right and into the parlor where he stood in the lamplight, his hands closing over the edge of a quilt draped over the back of an armchair.

A few seconds later, Blair appeared in the dining room doorway, everything about her still and calm—except for her eyes. They were clouded with anxiety. “Hi,” she said, staring at him.

He stared back, taking his time, taking in her soft, rippling hair and curvy body. She wore a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. Her feet were bare, crossed over each other. It took every ounce of willpower not to cross the room and gather her in his arms.

He nodded. “Hey, Firefly.”

A pained look crossed her face, and she glanced back at the kitchen. “I need to check the oven.”

“Okay.” He took a step forward but hesitated. “How are you?”

“I’m not doing too great, to be honest.”

“I know.” Ben ran a hand through his hair. “But I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”

“Sure, have a seat. I’ll bring some wine. And cookies, if they’re ready.” Her usual quick smile was missing as she turned abruptly and walked through the darkened dining room and into the kitchen.

Ben edged around the armchair and gratefully sank into the sofa, which faced the dining room. His legs felt a little rubbery. What a mess. Anything had to better than the agony of this half-assed limbo that he and Blair had managed to fall into. He wanted her desperately, and he suspected that she wanted the same.

Lacing his fingers together over his stomach, he sat there in silence and looked around—at the window seat behind him piled with pillows, the built-in bookshelves on either side, at the coffee table brushing his knees. He struggled up from the plush sofa and scanned the books and magazines scattered on the surface. Anything to distract him…calm him.

He picked up the closest paperback and flipped it open. His eyebrows shot up. It was a graphic novel—Anime—and the illustrations were erotic. A small smile crept around the corners of his mouth as he continued to leaf through it. Damn. Was it Blair’s? He hoped so. The thought that it might be Kaley’s…or
Lola’s
…was disturbing.

A small yelp made him look up and then grin at Blair, who stood next to the arm of the sofa holding two wineglasses, her face frozen in shock. He held up the book. “This yours?”

Indecision crossed her face and finally she let out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m not going to blame
that
on Kaley.” Squeezing past him, she perched on the edge of the coffee table and placed the glasses beside her, facing him. Her knees brushed his, and she slid a few inches away, creating distance. “The cookies are still too hot.”

Ben was tempted to let his legs relax so they were touching hers again, but he didn’t. “That’s okay. Where did you get the book?”

She picked up her glass and took a gulp. “Online. I was…researching all about tattoos and the book popped up in an Amazon search for tattoo illustrations. I liked the cover…but I didn’t realize exactly what the book was until I got it in the mail.” Her cheeks were flushed.

“Hmm.” He closed the book and set it on the table. “Despite that, did you enjoy it?”

She paused and took another deep swallow of wine. “Couldn’t we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

Like how much I want you. That I think I’m falling in love with you.

“I don’t know.”

“How about the parade contest?”

“No way. I’m so sick of worrying about that, I could scream.” Her gaze traveled over him and landed on his arms. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

He stiffened, the glass at his lips. Well,
that
had come out of nowhere. Or had it? Why would she ask if she didn’t care about him—didn’t want to know more? But he didn’t like talking about them, especially since everything they symbolized he’d caved in on. He took a sip, buying time.

“Ben?” She stared at him.

“Okay.” He set the glass on the table and ran his hand over the pirate ship on his left forearm. “This one was the first. I saved up for it while I was in art school, and one day when it felt right, I walked into Grizz’s studio with a folio full of pirate-themed sketches and asked to speak to the manager.” He let out a small laugh.

“That was the day you met him?” Blair scooted closer for a better look.

“Yeah. But I didn’t get a tattoo that day. Grizz looked at my sketches, one by one. Then he looked at me—well, stared at me is more like it—and told me to come back when I was ready.”

“What did he mean?”

“At the time, I had no clue. But after I saw his artwork on the walls of his studio, I spent a lot of time thinking. Those sketches of mine had no depth, neither in the skill nor the intent. I thought pirates were cool. But as I reworked them and let my mind wander, I realized what it was about pirates that I loved.”

Blair moved even closer and bent her head. Her hair cascaded over his arm as she bent to trace a fingertip along the bow of the ship on his arm. “What do you love?” she murmured.

He hesitated.

“Freedom. The sense of answering only to myself. The satisfaction of creating my own destiny.” He paused, listening to himself, watching her. “It seems simple and…cliché, but it’s what’s important to me. Was important.” He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore.”

She looked up then and smiled into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with simple. I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

He touched her finger lightly. “If only everything really was simple. But it’s not, is it?”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you. I wish you would trust me.”

“I do.” She met his eyes briefly. “I mean—there are some things I have to work out first. After the Fourth…things will be different.”

“So our relationship is contingent upon you winning the parade contest?” He stared down at the wine in his glass. “Forget I said that.”

When she didn’t reply, he glanced up.

She was staring at him, that familiar look in her eyes—that look that said that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him.

Slowly, she spoke. “No, our relationship has nothing to do with the parade contest.”

Bullshit.

He withdrew his arm from under her hand and took a deep drink of the wine, willing himself to calm down. He’d planned to be casual. Easy. Charming. There was nothing charming about nagging the woman you were falling in love with. It was pathetic.

She stood up. “I need to go check on Kaley.”

“We’re not finished talking.” Ben put down his wineglass and stood as she walked toward the staircase. He had to say something to get through to her, but what ended up coming out of his mouth sounded even more pathetic.

“You gave yourself to me. Why are you taking yourself back?”

Turning slowly, she folded her arms. “I’m well aware that I gave myself to you. I planned it.”

Her words sliced through him, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at her. When was he going to come first? Didn’t she think their relationship was more important than anything else in the world? He thought that. He
felt
that.

But he was too upset to say it.

“So, I’m just another thing on your list? That’s good to know. I’ll bet you didn’t plan this.”

Tearing his gaze away from her, he walked out the front door.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Standing outside her van, Kaley by her side, Blair wiped the back of her hand against her forehead and squinted at the sun. This early summer heat was hell on earth—anyone who thought upstate New York wasn’t hot in the summer had no clue. But it wasn’t just the temperature that was eating at her like a bonfire. Her conscience was, too. Out of all the things she could have said to Ben, she’d chosen to tell him that she’d planned sex with him, as if it was a meaningless item on her damned list. He had every right to be pissed at her—and now that they were both engulfed in work, it was as if they were continents apart, instead of only a couple of miles.

He was constantly on her mind, even when she was trying to make headway with poking holes in the parade, which wasn’t going that well, either. When she’d asked Colleen to volunteer, the old lady had laughed and said that she wasn’t about to get her manicure dirty. When Blair had appealed to Colleen’s bossy side and told her that she could direct traffic instead, she hadn’t seemed interested in that, either. Maybe
something
would happen to plunge tonight’s float-building party into chaos, anyway.

Just in case, Blair wasn’t going to show up. If the party was going to implode, she didn’t need to be seen as the event planner who stood by and let it happen. What was she going to do instead, though? Sit and home and wonder what Ben was thinking? Probably.

“Why are we standing here, Blair? It’s too hot.”

Blair jerked her head toward her cousin. “I…I don’t know.”

“God, you’ve been so distracted lately.” Kaley grimaced and stomped through weeds leading to a huge old barn on Bill’s property.

Blair followed, silently agreeing with her. It was hot, and her brain was all but fried. The barn would be even hotter, probably, but she had to go inside and at least pretend to inventory supplies. Three weeks ago, she would have been equipped with her list, her laptop, a calculator—hell she probably would have considered bringing an abacus to make sure her math was right. But today? She had nothing but a set of keys and her phone.

It was a weird feeling to be so unprepared. A liberating feeling—almost.

When she’d slogged through the weeds and reached the double doors, she unlocked a padlock and swung the doors open. A musty smell filled the air, and there was a rustling sound among the old metal drums and car parts at the back of the space. She shuddered.

“What are we doing again?” Kaley whined.

Blair narrowed her eyes at the strident tone of her cousin’s voice. It was all she could do not to snap at her, but it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, Blair hadn’t been too easy to live with, either, lately. So she forced her voice to be pleasant.

“The accounting girls were supposed to have delivered the float-decoration supplies yesterday. We need to make sure they’re here, because families are going to start showing up tonight to begin work. You
are
aware that the float-building party is tonight, right?”

Surprisingly, Kaley grinned. “Now that’s the Blair I know. Everything in its place, right?”

“Of course.”

But it wasn’t.

After flipping on the lights, Blair stared at the jumbled piles of stuff heaped on the old wooden floor. Rolls and rolls of crepe paper. Chicken wire. Astroturf. Dozens of cans of paint, most of it used. Who knew how much was even left in some of the cans?

“Oh, shit,” Kaley blurted out. “This is a mess. Don’t
tell
me we have to organize it.”

Blair nodded. “Yes. Let’s get busy.”

She reached down and grabbed a couple of paint buckets, moving them across the floor. With a sigh, Kaley began to kick a roll of Astroturf toward the wall and a cloud of dust rose up around her. She sneezed. Before long, they could hardly see.

“Aw, come on, Blair. We don’t have time for this. The bachelor auction is starting soon.”

Walking around the piles, Blair began to chuckle. And then laugh outright—pretty soon she was doubled over. Gasping, she turned to Kaley. “You’re right, the auction is starting soon. And no, we don’t have time to fix this. People can figure it out on their own tonight.”

Kaley raised an eyebrow. “Um. Okay, you’re officially psycho now. I can’t believe
you
just said that.”

“Well, I did. Let’s go.”

Trailing after her, Kaley muttered, “You do realize that tonight, most of the time is going to be taken up handing out supplies. There will be little kids running around everywhere, and half the people won’t even know how to use a staple gun.”

Blair smiled at her and fastened the padlock. “Better watch it. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“God forbid.” With a huff, Kaley turned on her heel and stomped to the van.

“I don’t think I’m coming tonight,” Blair said casually.

“
What
?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. Plus…don’t you think that everyone will be more creative if I’m not standing over them like some kind of taskmaster?”

Kaley shook her head. “Like I said, psycho. But you’ve finally seen the light, I guess. Does it feel good to give up control?”

“Sure.” Blair gave her a smile. A fake one.

After they drove downtown, Blair parked in front of Debbie’s Doughnuts and turned to her cousin. “Why don’t you go inside and get a soda or something? It
is
really hot, and we’re going to be out in the sun for a while.”

Kaley ignored the question. Rolling down the passenger window, she shaded her eyes and scanned the motley group of women gathered on the town commons. “Are we late?”

“I don’t think so,” Blair said. But maybe they were a bit late. Her eyes widened. Maybe she should have worn her watch. Or checked her phone. Or…shit. She opened the van door.

She glanced over at where Sheila, Paula, and Barb stood in a clump, away from the crowd, their heads together. Hopefully hatching some harebrained scheme that had nothing to do with the items on the master list.

With a sigh, she got out of the van and gave them a cheery wave before crossing the street and jogging up the steps of the gazebo.

On the podium was a roster of the bachelors that were participating in today’s auction. Someone—she had no idea who—had drawn a column titled “checked in” next to the men’s names. All of them had checked in except for Marcus and Ben.

“Blair?”

“Yes?” She gritted her teeth.

“Where’s Ben?”

Kaley had not so subtly been bringing up Ben every chance she got. Blair knew she meant well, but the girl didn’t understand complicated. Kaley’s idea of a relationship was about as deep as the text messages she used to communicate with Brandon.

Blair shrugged.

It had been a week—no, make that a week and about six hours—and thinking about him was becoming exhausting. It had distracted her from everything else, which should have been helpful, since she was slowly—and on purpose—letting little details for the parade prep slip away. She hadn’t wanted to go to that extreme, but with Sheila still sailing along, and Colleen unwilling to volunteer, Blair had taken action. She
had
to—because if Celebration won? Oh, God. She’d leave Ben—go back to living alone in the city, forced into some crap internship. It was getting harder and harder to believe that a couple of months ago, that internship had been all that she’d wanted in life.

Last night, even though it had been a bit horrifying, she had actually taken out her list and torn off a small section of things that were crucial. Then she’d thrown the scrap in the trash, scraped leftover baked beans on top of it to make sure she wouldn’t panic and go trash digging, and then she’d gone to bed, trying to ignore the icky feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach.

“Blair?” Kaley appeared at her elbow. “I asked you a question. Where is he?”

“Hell if I know,” Blair snapped. “And you’re well aware that he and I haven’t spoken in a while. So quit asking and back off.”

Kaley’s mouth dropped open in shock. “My pleasure,” she retorted, and pulling her phone from the front pocket of her shorts, she flounced down the sidewalk, her ponytail swinging.

“Damn it,” Blair muttered. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, now she’d have to deal with Kaley’s miffed attitude for the rest of the day—and her own guilt that she’d caused it. Guilt was becoming a regular companion these days.

“
Damn
it,” she repeated, more forcefully this time. Shuffling papers on the podium, she placed the bid spreadsheet down and smacked a pen on top of it. The sound echoed, and her gaze snapped forward, looking out at the crowd of women. A sea of eyes stared back at her.

The microphone was on.

Oh,
Jesus
. Her eyes slid shut for a second, and she let out a long breath. “Sorry,” she said, leaning forward. There was feedback and she clapped her hand over the microphone. “Just a sec.” After reaching into the cabinet inside the podium, she turned it down and then popped back up with a forced smile. “Hi. Welcome to Celebration’s bachelor for a day auction, everyone.”

There was light applause, which faded away quickly. A deep chuckle sounded behind her, and Blair glanced over her shoulder, spotting Marcus, who leaned against the side of the gazebo, grinning. Next to him stood Ben, who wasn’t smiling. At all. But he wore a suit, and with his hair loose and eyes hidden behind sunglasses, he was devastating.

Blair whirled back around. “I’m so glad to see you, ladies. As most of you are already aware, Celebration is entered in a Fourth of July hometown-parade contest sponsored by none other than Macy’s Parade and Entertainment Group. The grand prize is fifty thousand dollars.”

A murmur swept through the crowd.

“This auction is to raise money for a float building fund,” Blair continued. “Now, because this year’s Fourth of July parade is different, the town has already advanced extra budget so things can get started earlier. Your participation today will help replenish that money.”

The women applauded, and Blair offered them a smile. “So dig deep in those handbags, ladies. And get ready to win the bachelor of your dreams.” She paused. “Although you know most of them are not technically available. And if you want to bid on your own husband, be my guest.”

“Are you kidding me?” called Ivy, who stood near the edge of the crowd. “Let someone else put up with him for a day.” There was a burst of laughter, and Blair waved at Ivy, who gave her a thumbs-up. It was time to start.

Nodding, Blair turned to the men lined up on the sidewalk. Some of them stood proudly, their chests puffed out. Some of them nudged each other and horsed around. All of them—short, tall, tubby, or bald—were doing her a big favor. They were good guys, and it took good guys to stand up in front of a group of women and allow themselves to be auctioned off so the town’s Fourth of July parade could be really special.

Even as another wave of guilt washed through her, she turned her best smile on them. “Ready, guys?”

The first man in line, Bill—dapper as always—smiled back and walked up the steps to stand next to her. “Make me sound good,” he murmured and took a bow as the ladies cheered.

Lola put her fingers between her lips and whistled. “Fifty bucks!” she called.

Blair bent down to the microphone. “I haven’t even read his biography yet.”

Next to Lola, Colleen Callahan leaned forward on her walker. “Oh, hell. We all know who he is. I bid seventy-five!” She turned to Lola with an exaggerated wink.

“One hundred!” called another old lady. “He’s brave to go first.”

“Well, damn it. One fifty!” Colleen cried out.

Blair cleared her throat. “Do I hear two hundred?” she called out hopefully. Nobody said a word for a few seconds and then laughter burst out. “Okay. One fifty. Going once. Going twice.” She paused. “Colleen, you’ve won a date with Bill Benson.”

There were cheers and clapping as Bill tipped his hat and walked down the steps, straight into the arms of Lola, who gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Grinning, Blair wrote down the total and motioned for the next man, trying not to wince. It was Vern Tinsley, the cranky—and frankly—creepy old guy who ogled people from his favorite seat at Debbie’s Doughnuts. And thank God, Debbie bid on him.

After four middle-aged guys, who pulled a hundred dollars apiece, it was Marcus’s turn and a gaggle of women from Sunnyside sighed, clutching their purses to their chests. Amid some fierce bidding, he posed like a
GQ
model and smiled, finally going for three hundred dollars.

Five more men took their turns, and after Blair patted sweat away from her forehead with a paper napkin, she paused to take a long drink of water and look back down at the list.

There were only two names left. Peter Collins and Ben Lambert.

Glancing toward the sidewalk, she saw the two men, who were as different as night and day. Ben—tall, thrilling, and infuriating. Peter—short, ordinary, and simple. Except for the fact that he was carrying on with Starling. Blair jerked her gaze back to the crowd.
Starling
. Was she here? Would she bid on him?

“You gonna auction off your boyfriend or what?” called a raspy voice.

Oh, yeah. Starling was here. It was on the tip of Blair’s tongue to say, “No, I’m going to auction off yours first,” but she held it. And ignored Starling.

“Peter?” she said into the microphone. He shuffled up the sidewalk, his suit wilting in the heat. Standing next to her with a defeated look on his face, he nodded.

“Make it quick. I doubt I’ll do very well,” he muttered.

Blair put her palm over the microphone. “Sure you will. You’re the principal.”

“Exactly,” he responded.

A wave of sympathy for him made Blair frown, and she uncovered the microphone. “I don’t know about you, ladies, but I wouldn’t mind a date with a smart, kind man. Let’s start the bidding off at fifty.”

There were no takers, and Blair glanced at him, then back at the crowd, willing Starling to put her hand up. To yell out something. She didn’t. Nobody did.

“Come on, ladies, I know you’ve spent a lot of money today and I’m very grateful. So how about a little bit more?”