Ink and Intimacy (New Gothenburg Ink #2)

Chapter 1

KRISTOFER COLT “KC” BEAUMONT

My ears buzzed.

I was acutely aware of the container, large and round and blue, staring back at me.

Reminding me of how I’d taken something that should’ve been healthy too far.

The memories of the hospital sat at the forefront of my mind, making my skin prickle.

The face of the doctor as she’d pursed her lips in concern and loomed over the railing of my bed.

The nurse had tried three times to put in the IV, but because I was dehydrated, they had to call in their IV team.

My heart began to pound.

They’d used a green-light machine to find the branches of my veins in my arms. It was beautiful and strange.

Despite knowing I’d landed in trouble in the past, my fingers twitched. I needed to get bigger. I was a linebacker. It was my job to defend our line and take out the opposing team’s men, and I couldn’t do that the right way unless I was the size of a house.

Hudson’s smug grin flashed in my mind. “We need a man, not a weak-ass bitch.” Then, he’d given me a long once-over, smirk widening until every word cut to the bone.

I inhaled and my gaze shifted to the container of protein powder again.

“Oh, fuck you!” Oli’s voice sliced through my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. I looked at him and Ren where they sat on the white leather couch in Ren’s apartment.

“No!” Ren laughed, his head thrown back, hand on his chest in genuine amusement.

Fuck, he was so nice to look at. The sides of his head were freshly shaved so that the black swirls of the ink on his scalp were visible.

The longer dark strands on top teased his forehead.

His face was all sharp angles except for his mouth.

His lips were rosy and the bottom one was just right for sucking on.

When he opened his hazel eyes, they gleamed with amusement.

The TV was on in front of them, two sportscasters taking up the screen outside of a hockey arena. It was the first game of the Blizzards’ season, and Ren had asked us to come over to watch it. Oli and I couldn’t say no. We loved it here and wanted to be here all the time.

“Come on, this name is fucking awesome.” Ren pointed the screen of his phone at Oli. “The Cluster Pucks. It’s classic.”

Oli was as hot as Ren, but in a softer way.

His brown curls made me want to run my hands through his hair, and he was smaller than me by a lot, so he fit just right in my arms. His big brown eyes were so serious, topped by bold eyebrows that scrunched as he studied Ren’s phone.

His lips were a petal pink I easily lost myself in.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss them both.

I shook myself out of my daze and forced my legs to move so I could join them on the couch. Ren held out his arm when I reached them, and I fell onto the cushion between them, basking in their warmth.

“You still looking at beer league teams to join?” I rolled the soreness out of my shoulders.

Today’s football practice was rough and my body ached.

Each of my limbs felt weaker without my protein powder, but my trainer, Hawthorn, had revised my diet to help.

After I’d passed out last month, he’d gone out of his way to work with the doctors so it wouldn’t happen again.

Coach Nairn, our defensive coach, made his judgment clear—I wouldn’t do anything that made me sick.

He needed me out there, he’d said, and if that meant changing my diet, then that was easy to do.

“Yeah, I have some choices around New Gothenburg. More than I’d expected.” Ren showed me the list, and I eyed it carefully, taking in the ridiculous names. Some were serious, most weren’t.

“And they play each other?”

“And teams around the area.” Oli cuddled up against my other side, laying his head on my shoulder.

His weight calmed a raging unease inside me and my muscles relaxed. I exhaled, then breathed in the berry scent of his freshly washed curls.

“The Cluster Pucks is a horrible name,” Oli said.

Ren snorted. “One of the NHL teams in New York is called The Puckers.”

“How is that even allowed? It’s stupid,” Oli grumbled.

“It’s fucking genius, is what it is.” Ren waggled his eyebrows. He tweaked Oli’s chin and the heavy silver rings on his fingers gleamed. He wore jewelry everywhere, even sitting around his apartment.

I shook my head. Give my two guys the chance and they’d bicker over anything.

They loved each other, but they also enjoyed good tongue-to-tongue action in the form of squabbling.

While it was fun to watch them, fatigue hit me hard tonight and my eyes burned.

All I wanted was to settle in with my boys and watch the game.

“Want a slice?” Ren gestured at the pepperoni pizza sitting in a box on the coffee table in front of us. “It’s Abbiati’s, so you know it’s good.”

“I would’ve preferred the Hawaiian.” Oli sent him a smug look even though Ren wasn’t talking to him, but all he got for his trouble was a smirk. Ren knew exactly what he was doing and so did I.

I chuckled. “Nope. I’m on my meal plan.”

Ren and Oli immediately frowned, almost at the same time, their concern palpable.

“Don’t look at me that way. I’m fine,” I argued. Goose bumps raced over my arms and I shivered.

“You’re most definitely not fine.” Ren’s hold around my shoulders tightened and he made a sound at the back of his throat. “You passed out last month and you’re not eating pizza. Only psychos don’t eat pizza.”

“I eat it, just not right now. The season’s really kicking in and I need to train. I need to get bigger. Pizza is trash.”

His face said he didn’t believe a word I’d said. “You’re already big.”

“But I need to get bigger.”

“Why?” Oli pressed a kiss against my bare bicep. My sleeves had been hacked off purposely, by the designer of course. “Ren’s right, you’re huge.”

“What’s that?” Ren cupped his hand around his ear. “Did you just say I’m right?” He stuck his finger in his ear and twisted it around like he was cleaning it out, then leaned closer.

“Fuck you,” Oli grumped back immediately.

Something warm and gooey settled behind my ribs as I watched them argue.

Oli and I still hadn’t completely forgiven Ren for his scheme to break our hearts, but we weren’t exactly mad at him anymore, either.

We had plans set in place for him to prove how sorry he was, and one of those involved going to see his Uncle Errol and Barber tomorrow night.

While Ren and Barber had spoken once, there was a lot of tension to resolve, and Ren had yet to meet the crazy uncle who’d taken Barber in when he’d first moved to New Gothenburg.

“Who’s playing tonight?” I stared at the TV. The New Gothenburg Blizzards were obvious in their blue-and-white uniforms, but their opponents were in yellow and there were several teams with that color.

“They play the Skyhawks.” Ren raised an eyebrow at me, then went back to scrolling on his phone before he made a sound of triumph.

“I’m joining them.” He turned the screen so Oli and I could see.

On his phone was a logo of a hockey player standing tall over a city while holding his stick.

Around the picture were the words “The Homeward Bladezillas.”

“Are you kidding me? What’s with these names?” Oli groaned. “You can’t pick a team based on their logo. What if they suck?”

Ren’s laughter bounced off the walls. Mr. Wiggles, his ferret, glanced up from a sock he was dragging around and scampered toward us. “They’re fucking great. Beer leagues are fun, so they don’t have to be too serious.”

Mr. Wiggles was pure white and agile, and he climbed straight up the arm of the couch, across Ren’s lap, and to me.

He wiggled and circled around my thighs before he settled into a ball there.

While I’d hated him at first—okay, maybe I was scared of him—I’d become his favorite, and he made sure Oli and Ren knew, too.

Whenever we were together, Mr. Wiggles came to me for cuddles and pets.

He was turning into my baby.

“When are you going to call them?” I scratched behind Mr. Wiggles’s ear, watching in amusement as he shifted in excitement, despite trying to sleep.

I was his stepfather and I didn’t hate it.

He was the cutest damned thing that ever existed.

No clue how I’d ever been terrified of him, and I hated how much I loved him. Ren was almost as cute as Mr. Wiggles.

“Tomorrow. See if they need a defenseman. It says here they’re having tryouts. The season started for the beer leagues last week, but they’re short on players.”

“Will you have time around work?” Oli leaned forward, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

He’d joined Ren as his apprentice at Revenge Tattoo recently, and while he’d been practicing on fake skin, he wasn’t getting any better.

He was struggling, despite Ren giving him tips and trying to teach him the tricks of the trade.

“Yeah, I got the boys to help me.”

He was referring to his employees, Flint and Wylie. They’d come from LA to support his new location. I’d gotten to know them while I’d hung around there after my hospital adventure. They were good guys. Softer than Ren, but still smart as hell and funny. They also took care of Oli and I liked that.

“I miss hockey,” Ren said.

He’d told us slamming into people on the ice helped with his anger issues, and we’d encouraged him to join a team.

I still didn’t know a lot about Ren’s family, but his parents weren’t great and his siblings—minus Barber—were assholes.

Actually, Barber could be an asshole, too, but he was more the kind you wanted to laugh at than punch in the face.

“I don’t understand hockey,” Oli grumbled, staring at the TV again.

They were lining up for the face-off with McBride against the Skyhawk’s center, Kolosov.

It would be a good game tonight, even though neither team was mine.

Sure, I lived in New Gothenburg, but I loved the Waves.

I didn’t know why I preferred the LA team. Maybe I liked the players better.