The Valentine's Arrangement (3 page)

Kale felt Ronnie shift closer to him and then he felt the thin latex of her gloves brush against his tender skin as her fingers grazed over his back. He wanted those gloves off her hands so he could feel the warmth of her skin running along his. He wanted her to touch him, really touch him.

“So how’s it coming?” Kale asked, trying to shift the mood that seemed to be suffocating the room, and shift his thoughts to ones that wouldn’t make a tent form in his jeans.

“It’s looking brilliant,” she said, her voice full of satisfaction.

“I was told you were the best. I have to admit, I was a little surprised when I saw that the renowned Ronnie Clark was a woman.”

“Why? You didn’t think a woman could hold the title?”

“No. I was surprised because not one of the fuckers who sent me to you told me that the person who did their tattoos was saucy, outspoken, or stunning, let alone a woman— I’m pretty sure that little detail didn’t just slip their mind.”

Kale’s buddies from his unit had some pretty impressive ink, and when they told him to go to see Ronnie Clark at No Regrets tattoo shop, they knew good and well this woman would give Kale a run for his money; Kale knew now that those assholes had set him up.

“Flattery doesn’t earn you any brownie points, Soldier.”

Kale chuckled quietly to himself. She wasn’t taking his bait, not that he expected her to.

“I don’t need brownie points.” He could basically feel Ronnie’s eyes rolling and he was enjoying ruffling her feathers.

“I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure the girls just line up for the chance to jump into bed with the real life Captain America.”

“Captain America, huh?” Kale laughed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m more of a Hulk fan myself.”

“So you like comic book superheroes?”

“I’m a female tattoo artist with a thing for fictional heroes, you caught me,” she said insouciantly.

“That’s kind of hot.” Kale looked over his shoulder at her. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the pile on top of her head and they were veiling her face, but he could clearly see the irritation pouted on her lips as she glared at him through the silky strands.

“Yeah because that is exactly what I was going for when I picked up the nerd hobby of obsessing over comic books.”

Kale laughed at her monotone responses. This woman was seriously a tough cookie to break. “Okay, so you’re a sexy smartass who can tattoo better than any man around here, you have a soft spot for superheroes, and you like to wear sexy heels to work. What else?”

Ronnie lifted her eyes from his back and narrowed them at him. He had to suppress his laugh.

“You writing a fucking book?” she hissed.

“Na, more like a list. Come on, what else you got for me?” he egged on.

“I have a feeling I’m seriously going to regret this,” she said, shaking her head back and forth as she returned the needle to Kale’s back. He gave himself a proverbial pat on the back. He was wearing her down.

“I’m a secret Twilight fan,” she mumbled.

Kale laughed hard and Ronnie jerked her hand away from him. “Damn it Emerson, hold the fuck still or I’m leaving this tattoo the way it is!”

Kale took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that from you…at all. Comic book superheroes, yes. I get it, they are badass, but sparkling vampires? I didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah, and you better not repeat it,” she said, a smile cracking on those full lips of hers.

*****

“Alright your turn, what’s your story?” Ronnie asked as she slipped her hand down Kale’s side. Her eyes jerked toward her hand when she felt the smallest of trembles roll over him.

“What do you want to know?” His voice was low; confirming that the tremble Ronnie just felt wasn’t from the tattoo.

“How long have you been in the Army?”

“Since I was nineteen.”

Ronnie saw where this was going. “Ha ha and how long has that been?”

“It’ll be ten years in March,” he said, his voice straining slightly when she pressed the needle over his spine. She lifted the needle and softly wiped the bleeding flesh. His muscles flexed under her touch and they were firm and thick. She needed him to keep talking, anything to distract her traitor mind from going where she didn’t want it to go.

It was as if she spoke out loud because his body tensed and her fingers froze. She wasn’t going to be able to get much work done with him responding to her every move like this.

“Alright I’m done,” Ronnie said, pulling away and turning around toward the counter.

“You’re finished? Seriously? It’s been what, an hour?”

Ronnie slipped off her gloves after she discarded the used needle and turned around to face Kale. He had turned around and was sitting on the edge of the chair—his glorious, shirtless chest right in her line of vision.

“I’m not finished. I’m just done for the night. Come back tomorrow and we can finish it then.” She handed him a mirror and Kale stood up and faced his back toward the full-length mirror on the back of her door.

The entire front view of his body was facing her now, and she allowed her eyes to skim over the deep v of his hips and across his broad shoulders and down his thick arms and tight abs. She felt her face flush and she turned away.

“Mic, I’m almost done here. You ready?” she hollered from her room, trying to distract herself.

“Damn, Ronnie. This looks amazing.” Kale pulled the mirror down and handed it to her then looked at his watch. “It’s still pretty early, how about I buy you a drink.”

Ronnie sighed and closed her eyes. Apparently, she was going to have to fucking spell it out for him. “Look here Soldier, you know what I told you about mind fucking me? Well, the same rule applies for attempting to fuck me.”

“Alright Sweetheart, it was just a drink,” Kale said flatly, his eyes vexed.

“Yeah well, I always go out for drinks with Mic on Friday nights anyway.” Ronnie walked around Kale and placed a large bandage across his back. His body was still and rigid, it didn’t react to her like it did moments ago and she couldn’t help but think she pissed him off.

Kale slipped his shirt on over his head and picked up his coat off the chair. He smiled at her but the dimple in his cheek never formed. She risked her dignity and looked him in the eyes. Once again, they were unaffected. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and then he turned from her and walked away.

*****

“Two shots of Patron and two Buds,” Mic said to the bartender as Ronnie took a seat next to him at their usual dive bar in the building next to the tattoo shop. It was filled with smelly old men who had smoked their way past a lung transplant and had drank so much they had long forgotten the meaning of sober. It was a rough crowd and an even rougher atmosphere, and it was black listed; which meant soldiers weren’t allowed to come here courtesy of the Post Commander— just the way Ronnie liked it.

“Alright Angel, what’s going on with you tonight? You seem a little off.” Yeah, he had no idea just how off Ronnie really was.

“Mic, you know I hate when you call me ‘Angel’, I’m definitely no Angel.” Ronnie took the shot that the bartender sat in front of her and tipped it back.

“Ah, you think a good Angel would be hanging around my sorry ass? Na, you’re my little dark Angel.”

She laughed and took a drink of her beer. Mic is one of the tattoo artists she worked with at No Regrets and he was probably her best friend there. Sure, he was fat and bald and old enough to be her dad, but he dished it out as much as Ronnie and he could hold his own around her. She loved that about him.

“You gonna talk or am I going to have to buy the whole damn bottle of Patron first?” Mic asked.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? I’m not off tonight, you’re just delusional.”

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Ronnie. I know you better than that and if I had to guess, you’re more stubborn than usual mood is because of that guy you were tattooing before we closed up. Am I right?” Mic lowered his head and looked up at Ronnie.

“Probably, considering all the guy did the whole time was attempt to flirt with me and ogle me like I was a piece of eye candy laid out there for his viewing pleasure.” Ronnie hissed, even though the way he looked at her was anything but that. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, and it was hot.

“Every man looks at you that way Ronnie; fuck, I even look at you that way.” Mic bounced his perverted old man eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes. “You’re used to that. Something tells me you liked it and that’s why you’re in extra bitch mode tonight.”

Who was she kidding, she did like it. And if she was being honest, she liked looking at him too.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Ronnie lifted her thick eyebrows and stared at Mic, trying to get him to back the fuck off.

“Nice try,” Mic laughed. “It’s time to get back on the wagon, Angel. You’ve been single now for three months and haven’t gone out with anyone. You’re young and beautiful. You should be running circles around these fuckers. This soldier that has you all roused up may be able to show you a good time.”

“Yeah, and that’s all he’s looking for. A little R&R sex, someone to ease his longing for a warm body, and someone to make him forget everything. Then he will be on his merry little way.”

Mic finished his beer and slid it across the bar. “And what is wrong with that?”

Ronnie tipped her beer back finishing hers as well. She raised her hand signaling for the bartender to bring them another round. She turned toward Mic who was staring at her, waiting for her to lash out. “You know what,” she said, “nothing is wrong with that.”

Chapter 3

You back for more?” Ronnie asked as Kale walked in the shop right on time the next night.

A smirk pulled up on Kale’s lips and Ronnie was relieved he seemed to be in a good mood. She was afraid he would still be pissed after last night.

“Bring on the pain, Sweetheart,” Kale said, shrugging out of his coat. Like last night, he was in a solid t-shirt, but this one happened to be pale blue, almost grey, and it made the blue in his eyes that much more piercing—like he really needed something to make him more fucking attractive. He kept his eyes on her as she sized him up and that little cocky-ass smirk he kept on his face—probably because he knew she was watching—was really starting to piss her off. Fuck this.

She walked toward him, keeping her eyes on him and an impassive expression on her face. She passed him, walked to the door, and turned the lock.

Kale raised an eyebrow to her.

“Get your head out of your ass”—she rolled her eyes—“it’s just us tonight and I won’t be able to hear anyone come in while I’m working.”

Kale lifted his hands as if in surrender all the while trying to suppress a laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

Ronnie’s brown eyes smoldered, hot and angry, then turned into slits. “You didn’t have to.”

She strutted passed him, his eyes were unashamed as they watched every move of every muscle in her body. She could still feel his eyes on her as she walked down the hall and she cursed her damn cheeks when she felt heat rise to the surface.

Kale followed her back to her room and he was already taking his shirt off when she turned around to face him. He was purposefully trying to be sexy and damn it, it was working.

“Go ahead and turn around and I’ll line up the transfer.”

He turned around slowly and she stepped toward him. The unfinished tattoo that spread across his lower back was already beautiful. She moved her appreciative gaze from his back to his narrow hips and down to his ass. She had the urge to run her nails down his back and hook her fingers into the waist of his jeans. Damn it. Instead, she rubbed a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol across his skin. Goose bumps prickled on his arms and the span of his back widened as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Shit that’s cold,” he huffed.

“Don’t be a pansy.” She continued to wipe the cold soaked pad over his back and enjoyed watching the muscle flex and tighten under her touch.

Another urge swept through her and she found herself wanting to skim her mouth over his back and blow warm breath onto his skin, but she didn’t. She placed the transfer paper onto his back and lined it up with the tattoo she had done yesterday. It wasn’t nearly as sexy as her urges but the contact still had his body tensing. She pressed the paper to his skin and then slowly pulled it off.

As soon as she pulled away, Kale turned around and took a step toward her, closing the little distance that was between them.

Ronnie was tall. She was damn near five foot ten when she was wearing her four inch heels, which she always was, and Kale still towered over her a good five inches. His head was tilted down toward her and he was staring at her; at her eyes, then her mouth, then back to her eyes, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, or at least touch her, but he didn’t.

She wanted him to touch her, but then at the same time she didn’t. It was like being around him made her a freaking basket case of hormones.

“You have a personal space problem?” she asked, taking an infinitesimal step backwards.

“Didn’t think it was a problem,” he said his expression serious and intense. Fuck.

“Maybe not for you,” she challenged, because it sure as hell was a problem for her. If she was going to keep in control of this little situation she seemed to have let herself get wrapped up in, then he was going to have to keep his distance. She already let herself think having a fling with him was okay, and she regretted thinking it the second Mic put the idea in her head. Ronnie was done with men and everything that came along with them; dates, sex, romance, and most definitely love. If only she could stand other females then maybe she could become a lesbian, but hell, she barely even liked to be friends with women so that idea was out.

She turned away from him to prep her work area because even the little annoying ass angel propped up on her shoulder couldn’t drown out the taunting words of the vixen devil that was perched on her other shoulder telling her to lean forward and run her hands down the length of his body. Ah, hell.

*****