Chapter Three
J ocelyn put her earbuds in and cranked the volume on her running playlist, doing her best to shake off her disappointment with Birch’s absence as she found her rhythm in the early morning sun.
The sluggishness of her tired mind began to break as she jogged along the tree-lined trail she knew by heart. Although she usually slept well in hotels, she’d been kept up late with thoughts of a certain hot tattooist.
Wondering thoughts.
Wandering thoughts.
X-rated thoughts.
Tempted as she was to look Birch up online, she decided against it. He was already so obviously guarded against the scrutiny he lived with in town, it didn’t feel right to invade his privacy through a few well-phrased key words.
Besides, she wanted to hear his story from him, wanted to listen to the smooth baritone voice she hadn’t heard nearly enough of yesterday.
Of course, it was silly to dwell on a man she barely knew, regardless of his questionable reputation. The next few weeks were going to be intense and long, the hours of research nothing compared to the amount of time she’d be spending connecting the dots and formulating her report. She was on the hunt for one thing and one thing only, and that was whoever owned the number company with the questionable connections. Home to work, not to play, no matter how tempting the toy was.
And she knew damn well that giving into temptation was a one-way ticket into the shark tank without a cage.
The steady thumping of a runner came up behind her and she veered to the side as he appeared in her peripheral and slowed to keep pace with her.
“You came,” she said, matching her strides to Birch’s.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
You and me both, she thought to herself, as her gaze lingered a little too long on the ink traveling along his muscled forearm.
Acknowledging his admission with the simple lift of a brow, she continued her punishing pace with him at her side, enjoying the quiet company of his presence for the three miles it took to complete the loop. As they rounded the final corner she slowed, tugging her earbuds out and tucking them into the strap of her tank top.
“You set a hard tempo,” he panted beside her, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to lose me, kill me, or test me at the north end of the lake.”
She laughed and looked over at him, biting her lip when she caught sight of his defined v-cut. “Meet me here tomorrow and I’ll let you know which it is.”
He smoothed his shirt down and came to a stop, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m not sure I’m that much of a masochist. How’s hotel life treating you?”
Pressing her fingers against her throat to check her pulse, she shrugged. “Can’t ask for much more than clean sheets, cable TV, and strong Wi-Fi. My boss always splurges on the best, so I really can’t complain. After I rinse off, I’m going to pick up a few groceries though. I hate being at the mercy of gas stations when I have midnight snack attacks.”
He frowned and stared intensely at the ground for a moment, as though the cement would have the answer to whatever internal debate he was having. With a slow nod, he returned his attention to her. “Want to meet up at the store? I need to stock the fridge before my brother starts foraging in the yard for food.”
Her internal warning system sent out a tiny shock—the reminder she needed to keep her mind on her work and her hands to herself—but it was shoved aside as her pulse quickened and her mouth spoke before her brain could stop it. “I’d love to.”
*
Birch circled the parking lot, his mind preoccupied with working through the potential pitfalls of his decision to meet up with Jocelyn not once, but twice, in one morning.
In four years, he would be free to make any reckless moves he wanted, consequences be damned. Grey would have his engineering degree. River would be cemented in his career without much need for an overbearing older brother.
Winter would still be locked up. But there was nothing he could do about that.
In the meantime, he needed to keep his focus on his home and his growing business. Between tuition and books, Grey’s education was taking almost every spare dime he had on paper. His nest egg of cash was dwindling bit by bit every month to make sure the power stayed on, the groceries were covered, and the internet wasn’t cut off. Add in a monthly deposit to Winter’s canteen account and a small transfer to cover a portion of River’s exorbitant LA rent, and he would be lucky if the stash he’d squirreled away lasted until his nest was empty.
Pulling into an open parking spot, he tossed his sunglasses onto the dash and ran a hand through his wet hair, the urge to drive off escalating when he saw Jocelyn step out of her car in another pair of sky-high heels.
He nearly tripped over his own feet when he came up behind her on the trail earlier, the view of her swaying blond ponytail and her ass in those tight blue shorts cementing itself permanently in his spank bank whether he wanted it or not. With her skin glistening and her cheeks flushed, his mind had gone straight into the gutter and happily rolled around in the filth.
And now here she was less than an hour later, dressed in sleek, checkered pants and a red high-necked sleeveless shirt that clung to her curves and showed off her toned arms. Her hair was still damp, held back at the base of her neck with a red ribbon his fingers itched to undo.
She was stunningly untouchable.
Her lips turned up in a smile when she saw him and he slammed his truck door closed, crossing the lot to meet her. “You came.” He grinned, shoving all his reservations aside until he could wallow in them alone later that night. “I should’ve warned you; I have a pretty big shopping list.”
“I assumed as much when you mentioned your starving brother,” she replied, tugging a cart free and rolling it over to him while she grabbed a basket. “How old is he?”
Gripping the cart a little tighter when an elderly woman looked between him and Jocelyn with disproval, he veered into the produce section. “Grey’s the youngest. He’s twenty-two and I swear he eats every twenty minutes.” He paused to choose a watermelon, deciding on two since he knew his brother could devour one in a sitting. “He’s a really bright kid, getting his PhD in engineering.”
“He lives at home?” she asked, her blue eyes narrowing. “That’s a three hour round trip to campus.”
Hefting two bags of apples into the cart, he wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, it’s not ideal. We lucked out on his schedule this year and managed to get two of his courses online and the rest on a late start on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. But who knows if we’ll swing it again next term.” Bagging a dozen bananas, he leaned on the cart while she gently squeezed avocados. “I put him on the dorm waiting list in case.”
“That must cost a pretty penny,” she said, leading him to the deli. “Was he able to swing any scholarships out of high school?”
“Bakers don’t get scholarships in this town,” he bit out, wincing at the bitterness in his voice. “Sorry. It’s a bit of a sore spot for me. Grey had top marks across the board but he had a few discipline write-ups, so he couldn’t get the faculty recommendations he needed. And the banks around here weren’t keen on giving a Baker a loan.” Shifting gears, he followed her to the bread aisle. “So you’ve obviously kept up with the running. You do marathons or anything?”
She gave him a look letting him know she had questions, but allowed the change of topic. “I run solely for clarity. During the rest of the day, my mind is on a million things at once, but when I run, it’s easier to zoom in on those one or two things I need to think about and just work it out.” Her brows shot up as he added five loaves of bread to his cart. “Are you preparing for an apocalypse?”
“Would you believe it’s been eight days since my last grocery trip?”
Over the next hour, they meandered through the aisles, Jocelyn adding a box to her basket here and there and him filling his cart to the brim. By the time they were standing in the checkout line, he knew she despised romantic comedies but had a weakness for angsty love songs, knew she had two cats growing up but had always wanted a dog, and knew she had traveled to Europe twice but had yet to see the Eiffel Tower.
He managed to keep the discussion away from himself as much as he could, answering enough light questions to mask the amount of dodging he did when she pried a little deeper. While she spoke about university and her first floundering years with her accounting firm, he kept his stories recent, not wanting to address any part of his life before his release three years ago.
After all, she’d likely hear about it soon enough when her old friends figured out she was in town. So, for one morning, he left the Baker name in his truck and allowed himself to enjoy getting known without the stigma dragging him down.
*
Birch yanked the top drawer of his filing cabinet open and turned to Ryder. “Oh my God, you have got to stop stuffing these deposit receipts everywhere.” Hauling out dozens of crumpled papers, he piled them on the desk and made a futile attempt to flatten them. “Are there any more anywhere I haven’t checked?”
Ryder pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed another handful onto the pile. “I think that’s all of them.” His dark eyes narrowed as he looked over the mess. “You know, you can just pack it all up and I’ll drive it out to my uncle tomorrow. He gets paid to put this shit in order, so why do half his work for him?”
Glancing at the clock to make sure he had time before his next client came in, he began sorting the receipts by date. “He also bills by the hour, so doing this probably saves us a couple hundred.” Tapping a stack of invoices he’d sorted earlier, he nudged it toward Ryder. “These are missing names. I’m going to need you to go through your schedule and fill in the client info.”
With a glare, Ryder grabbed the pile. “I’ll deal with it tonight. If anyone pays cash today, toss it in the safe and I’ll deposit it all Friday.”
He was smoothing out the final receipt when his afternoon appointment walked in. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Jay,” he called across the desk, clipping the unruly stack together and dropping it into the drawer. “You all ready to get that beast colored in?”
The young guy nodded, already rolling up his sleeve and exposing the healed outline of an eagle Birch had started two weeks ago. “Can’t wait.”
Jay was an easy client. He knew what he wanted, knew where he wanted it, and knew his limits. He’d come in at eighteen for his first one, a brightly colored cartoon on his left calf. It had taken Birch three sessions to complete, Jay’s pain tolerance waning right around the two-hour mark.
Four tats later and Jay was a solid one-hundred-and-twenty-minute appointment. How far they got each time was irrelevant, because the guy knew his cap and he stuck to it. It made for easy scheduling and a calm session, unlike the occasional one who came in severely overestimating their ability to tolerate the pain.
As the two-hour mark approached, Jay began to shift in the chair, a clear sign it was time for Birch to wrap up.
“So is Ryder around?” Jay asked, watching the ointment being applied to his new ink.
“He’s off for the rest of the day,” he replied, placing the gauze and grinning. “Why? My coloring skills aren’t good enough for you anymore?”
Jay snorted, accepting his care sheet and shoving it into his back pocket. “Like I’d let that sausage-fingered thug mark me up. I was just looking into maybe getting a piercing.” Following Birch to the desk, he counted out his bills from his wallet and handed the money over. “If you talk to him, let him know I want to set something up.”
He scrawled out a receipt and slid the cash into an envelope. “Will do. Want me to schedule you in for two weeks from now, same time? We should be able to get it done in under two hours.”
With a thumbs up Jay walked out the door, doubling back clumsily and catching the door before it closed just as Jocelyn strode in.
“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder, tossing her purse on one of the waiting room chairs and sliding her computer bag underneath. “Oh my God, Birch, I am starving. I’m going to put in a delivery order for Maria’s Pasta Palace. What do you want?”
He stared down Jay until his client’s eyes left Jocelyn’s ass, at which point Jay gave him an apologetic shrug before letting the door close. With his inner caveman appeased, he replayed her words in his head. “Want?”
She sprawled out in an empty chair and kicked her heels off. “I’ve been traipsing all over this damn county trying to track down the actual address of a number company I need to touch base with. And none of the addresses on file are correct. Two of them don’t even exist. I want food, I want company, and I want food.” She hesitated a moment, a flash of uncertainty crossing her features. “Unless you’re busy tonight.”
Something was still short-circuiting in his head, his mind unable to move past the blatant eye-fucking Jay had given her when she walked in. “Busy?” Her brows lifted and his brain slowly caught up. “No. Yeah.” Giving his head a quick shake, he grinned at her. “No, I’m not busy; yes to Maria’s. But I have one more client coming through for an art consultation in an hour.” Reaching over to the wire basket he kept beside the coffee maker, he tossed her a granola bar. “Eat.”
She snatched the bar out of the air and those piercing steel eyes of hers lit up. “Sorry. My mom has spent over thirty years trying to teach me to ask when I want something, not command it.” Opening the snack, she smirked. “I forget when I’m hungry.”
“Some guys find it hot when a woman takes charge.”
“Really,” she murmured, drawing his attention to her mouth when her lips wrapped around the bar. Swallowing, she licked her lips and cocked a brow. “And are you one of those guys?”