Inked By the Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights 2 #9)

1. Liv

one

Liv

Iblame my siblings for the tattoo. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but drama is about the only thing in my life right now that feels spontaneous—something I’ve missed since my siblings have each found and/or lost love over the past few months.

Lately, every day brings a list, a deadline, and at least one sibling asking me to cover something while they chase romance.

I love my siblings, and I’m glad they're at least taking a chance on love.

I just miss the old me who could say yes to something so ridiculous without checking the staff schedule first.

Before everyone started falling in love, breaking up, disappearing on dates, and treating our family winery like a hobby instead of the business that pays our bills, I was the carefree one—Liv, twenty-three, a professional wine tester, an occasional paperwork avoider, and a full-time believer that any problem can be solved with good music, better wine, and pretending spreadsheets don’t exist.

First, it was Lex and Taila, who fell in love at her wedding weekend to Marx at the winery, when she thought Lex was a hired male stripper for her bachelorette party.

Then it was Lana, who fell for the groom, Marx, that same weekend, only to have their whirlwind romance crash and burn soon after.

Then there was my treacherous twin, Lyra, who skipped out on work to spend the day by the river, only to find Owen, the love of her life, while trespassing on his property.

Which somehow leaves me standing behind the tasting room container at the winery at nine-thirty on a Tuesday morning with three invoices, two vendor messages, an employee schedule that needs to be finalized, and a headache starting behind my eyes,

The worst part is that I’m actually getting good at running the winery.

That alone should make me proud. Instead, it feels like someone swapped my favorite pair of high heels for sensible flats and expects me to be grateful for the arch support.

I don’t want to come to resent the winery, because I really do love it.

I just don’t want loving it to mean becoming the person who always has to stay behind while everyone else gets to live, which is way too ironic, since my name is literally Liv.

“This is unacceptable,” I announce to no one in particular.

Lyra looks up from her phone with an actually dreamy glow on her face. Her cheeks are pink, her smile is dreamy, and her hair is suspiciously too perfect for someone who claims to have spent the morning helping Owen repair a fence.

I narrow my eyes, refusing to let it go. “You weren’t helping Owen fix a fence—you were kissing him.”

She blinks, giving me a look of feigned surprise. That little faker—I know that look—I perfected it. “What makes you think that?”

“Your face. Your face has that obnoxious glow whenever you come back from spending time alone together—I call it mountain-man face.” She snorts at my description, but I catch the sly little smile she’s trying to hide. I slap an invoice on the counter. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” She says, letting her smirk turn into a full-blown smile.

“Three months ago, do you know what I was doing at nine-thirty on Tuesday mornings?”

“Sleeping?”

“Exactly.” I used to stay up late, swim in the moonlight on the lake, and sleep until almost noon every day. Now I’m up at dawn and in bed by ten each night.

“You still worked.” She points out—which is true. But it was on my terms—my schedule.

“Selectively.” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for her next retort.

“You hid from Lex in the barrel room.”

Shoot, I didn’t know anyone knew about that. “That’s called delegating.”

“You took naps behind the cases of Merlot.” Lyra laughs, and I hate how happy and carefree she looks—not because I don’t want her to be happy.

But her happiness, and the rest of my siblings' happiness, or, I guess, in Lana’s case, heartbreak, have forced me to be the responsible one who knows more about liquor licenses and spreadsheets than I’ve ever wanted to know.

“Where are you going?” I ask when she grabs her purse.

Her expression turns guilty. “Owen needs help with another fence.”

Absolutely not. I am not going to be stuck here trying to figure out why Tom and John don’t want to work the same shift while Lyra is out having sex with her boyfriend by the river. “I have been working on the schedules for two hours—it’s your turn.”

“You’ve only been working on them for twenty minutes.” She comes around the corner and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“You said that yesterday, the day before, and the day before that,” I call after her as she walks out of the winery.

I slowly turn toward Lana, who’s sitting at one of the tasting tables with her laptop open, but I know darn well she hasn’t looked at the screen once—she’s been looking out the window all morning. She’s also been quiet all morning—too quiet if you ask me.

“How are you doing?” I soften my tone, not wanting to upset her. The breakup hit her pretty hard. In the beginning, she cried every day—now it’s almost like she is numb to everything.

“Fine.” Nobody who says fine the way she just did is fine.

I walk over and place my hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to slash Marx’s tires?”

She looks at me with a soft smile. “No.”

“How about keying his truck?” The jerk Marx broke up with Lana, then has the nerve to buy the property right next to hers and turn from a city guy into a mountain man.

“How about I put itching powder in his underwear?” That comment finally earns me a genuine smile from Lana.

“How would you even get his underwear? Forget it. I don’t want to know.” She holds up her hands and waves them back and forth to emphasize her point.

Lex walks in just as I’m getting ready to suggest another punishment for Marx. “Liv.” I let out a loud groan, knowing he’s going to add more work to my already busy schedule. “What is that all about?” His eyes narrow.

“Nothing.” I mumble, knowing there is no way I’m going to be able to get out of whatever he needs me to do.

“I need you to connect with the bourbon wholesaler and ask about our next shipment.” Lex hands me the contact information, then rushes out of the room—I’m sure he's on his way to see his girlfriend.

That’s it. It’s time I do something for myself, for once. I pull out my phone and search for tattoo shops in Temptation Ridge—like I don’t already know who that is. Keanu Reed, thirty-three, co-owner of Temptation Ink with his younger sister, Kira, and my secret crush.

Before I change my mind, I dial the number. Lana glances up from her laptop. “Who are you calling?”

“My salvation,” I mumble.

“What?”

The phone rings, and a woman answers after the second ring. “Temptation Ink. How can I help you?”

“Hi. I’d like to book a tattoo. Something small.” I glance at Lana to see her reaction.

She mouths, “What are you doing?"

I turn away before I laugh at the shocked look on her face. “I was thinking my hip,” I tell the woman on the phone, who I’m almost positive is Kira.

There is silence behind me for only a heartbeat before I hear Lana whisper, “You’re getting a tattoo?”

And for the first time in weeks, I feel like my old self again.