CHAPTER 12
PLAYBOY
I have to take a second to myself when Lara pulls off her shirt to reveal the bikini top underneath. Do I wish it was a lace bra that’s a little see-through? You better fucking believe it. Still, it’s probably better that it’s not.
That would be far too distracting. Fuck, even thinking about it is a problem. My dick is fucking throbbing and begging to be set free.
Now is not the time.
My head is far too close to her breast as I lean in slightly to angle the stencil just right to cup her shoulder and move down her arm. I’ll freehand in more vines and leaves to stretch toward her wrist to make sure everything is balanced and feels complete.
I can already see this tattoo coming together. It’s going to be gorgeous.
When I get the stencil in place, I lean back and watch Lara’s face as she steps up to the mirror. I don’t care about where it is, I’ve already put it there. What I care about is her reaction to it.
Watching is better than just listening when a first reaction is usually unguarded and honest. And taking in Lara’s face isn’t exactly a hardship.
The woman is beautiful.
I can read her, even when she’s trying to hide her emotions.
“It looks good,” she answers my silent question.
After standing, I stride toward her and stop right behind her. The large mirror captures both of us in the reflection. When I gently grab her wrist, she startles slightly but doesn’t pull away.
I make sure my movements are slow, giving her time to stop me. I gently roll her shoulder to angle her arm and let go before gliding my hand over her hip and up along her back. My hand creates a curve that brushes her ribcage before meeting up with the stencil at her shoulder.
“That’s the part I’ll draw directly on your skin,” my voice is huskier than I’d like it to be.
I’ve been trying extremely hard to be professional with Lara. It doesn’t come easily but diving into educating her about tattooing and all the procedures helped me not lose my cool during our first session.
Lara sat like a fucking pro too. I knew she would from the moment she saw the sketch on my wall and her eyes lit up and went soft at the same time.
I trace the path again, my fingers tips brushing a little deeper along her ribcage. It earns me a shiver from her; it feels like winning a war.
“I don’t know how far on your ribcage I’ll go. It’s painful here and there’s no need to push it too far when most of the vine can snake up your back,” my words are hypnotic and my eyes stick to where I’m touching her.
When Lara sucks in a sharp breath, my eyes snap up and meet hers in the mirror. Awkwardly, I clear my throat and take a step back. I miss being close to her, but I’m not going to push her.
Not now.
As we get settled in and I start working, the air is tense. It usually is, at first, when she’s around me again. If given long enough, she starts to let down her guard. Just a little; I wouldn’t want to get ahead of myself.
When she’s not around me, she’s able to build her walls back up. What she doesn’t understand, what I’m only starting to really grasp, is that I’m willing to chip away at that wall.
No matter how thick it is. No matter how many times she rebuilds it.
I glance up at the frame on the wall and smile to myself. When she looked at it the day that she came storming into my shop, I knew it was meant for her.
It was something that came to me in a dream, already formed and waiting for the right canvas.
The woman in my dream, the one who danced through patches of light with that tattoo, was blonde but the rest of it is hazy.
That was long before Lara moved to Dogwood Ridge.
Still, snatches of the dream have been nagging at me.
When the silence stretches too long between us, I can’t help but ask, “How is Vanessa?”
Lara cuts her eyes at me, but I stay focused. I’m not just asking to make small talk, even though that is part of it. I’m asking because I’m genuinely curious.
I haven’t seen Vanessa since the night I took Dolly’s over to their place. I’ve thought about stopping in and seeing her, but I wasn’t sure if I would be crossing a boundary that I’m not aware of.
Talk about the last thing I want to do.
“Why?” I’m not sure how one word can be filled with so much suspicious malice, but Lara manages it.
“I like her,” I tell Lara honestly. “Vanessa is smart and sassy, but she’s also kind and feels very deeply.” I don’t look up while answering her question. While I’d love to look into her eyes, I’m afraid I’ll kiss her if I do. “I’m not judging either of you or making any trouble.”
I hope she can hear the truth in my words. The last thing I want to do is to hurt Vanessa or inflict any more pain on Lara. I’ve done enough of that already.
It’s not like I don’t understand why Lara is getting defensive. I spent far too long showing her all the reasons not to trust me.
Lara doesn’t relax completely and studies my face as I slightly curl my shoulders inward while focusing on the work. Being this close to her isn’t helping me at all. She smells sweet like sugar and vanilla.
I can almost taste her on my tongue and it’s making my mouth water.
‘You’re not using her as your path to redemption, are you?” Lara’s tone isn’t malicious, but I can feel the threat she’s not voicing.
I better not be using her daughter to get to her. It’s not a bad leap to make, but that’s not what I’m doing. Well, at least, not completely.
I let out a long sigh as I wipe away some excess ink and stretch my back a little as I sit up. The strain of sitting and curling my body into one position or another isn’t nothing. Aches and pains are normal. It’s one of the reasons I make sure to stay on top of my workout routine.
And because the ladies love it.
But I haven’t even looked at another woman since before the BBQ blowup, which is what I’m now, affectionately, calling it.
“I’ll admit that is part of it,” my voice is full of reluctance, but telling half-truths isn’t going to help me with a woman like Lara, not after what I did. “I do need to make things up to her because she was used as evidence by Lola which was never fair to Vanessa. Or you.”
Lara looks at me for a long moment, like she’s trying to find the lie. She won’t find it.
“I also know how much Vanessa means to you. I’m not trying to soften you through her, not really, but I’m also not stupid enough to think I’ll make any headway if I ignore her or try to pretend like I didn’t hurt her either,” the words sound raw as they leave my mouth.
Because I know I hurt Vanessa. Intentions don’t matter; only the result does. I’m not on a mission to just make things right with Lara.
“Vanessa deserves kindness, understanding, and to feel safe in the place that is now her home,” I murmur the words, trying to keep my focus on my work instead of studying Lara’s face.
“You’re right,” she breathes out, “she does deserve kindness.” She winces slightly as I move to a new part of her arm, a more tender spot. Other than that, there’s no indication that she’s in any pain. “Are you trying to heal your own inner child through her because of who her birth mother is?”
I lean back, feeling the weight of her question on my shoulders. She doesn’t ask it like it’s a reproach. There’s not even disappointment in her voice, only mild curiosity, and the need to protect her daughter.
The chuckle that comes out of me is self-deprecating as fuck. Anger surges through me for a moment.
Not because she’s wrong to ask. But because it’s such a plausible explanation that I have to check myself for a moment.
And because I’ve given her enough reason to wonder about any and all ulterior motives I might have. If I could kick my own ass right now, I definitely would.
Lara has no reason to give me the benefit of the doubt. That has my anger melting into something more like acceptance.
I knew this fight would be a long one, but I’ve committed to it.
As I lean back over her and take back up my tattoo gun, I force myself to open up.
“It’s probably part of it,” I keep my voice casual.
“It’s not like I had some horrible childhood though, regardless of who my mother was.
No one blamed what she did and the choices she made on me.
No one made me live like a cloud lived over my head just waiting to rain down addiction and bad decisions on me. ”
“I’m sure you made plenty of bad decisions, cloud or no cloud,” Lara snarks, but there’s no real malice in her tone.
“You’ve got that right.” I smirk at her and glance up to meet her eyes before focusing back on her skin.
Her soft, delicate, creamy skin. The skin I’m putting my mark on.
No matter what happens—whether she forgives me or not; whether I ever have her in my arms or not—she’ll always have my art on her body. The thought sends a thrill down my spine, and I have to fight hard to keep the smile off my face.
“Just because there is more than one reason to do something, doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” I point out.
Lara deflates, her bravado and protectiveness seeping out of her. As she relaxes, I find the knot in my gut loosening.
She has every right to question me and my motives; that was never a problem.
I just hate it.
And I want to show her she can trust me. That I’m not the guy I showed her I was. I realize that I showed her a skewed version of myself for too long. It’ll take time; it always takes time.
Fuck.
Patience is hard.
“I’m sorry,” it sounds like the words cost her something, maybe more than she’s willing to pay. “That was rude of me.”
“You were just protecting your daughter,” I counter.
I’m not mad; I understand her and her motives.
“Yes,” she admits quietly before clearing her throat, “but that doesn’t mean I get to use your pain as evidence before anything happens. Even when you were being a dick to me, you never targeted Vanessa.”
“She’s just a kid,” I explain even though I don’t need to.
“True,” she acquiesces and sighs. “Still, it wasn’t okay for me to use your past against you.
That’s exactly what Lola did and I never want to be anything like her.
” The disgust on her face has one side of my mouth curling up.
“You took a risk when you wrote that letter and shared your past with me. It shouldn’t be used against you. ”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I murmur softly, my eyes fixed on where the needle drags across her skin. “I was a dick to you.”
Lara huffs out a sound before fixing her blue eyes on me. When I glance up and meet them, for a moment, I’m lost.
“You were operating under half-truths and manipulations.” She states it as a fact, not an excuse.
The words settle around us and, somehow, the distance between us doesn’t feel so vast. Maybe this plan is working. Maybe there can be something more here than just bitter memories and wronged hearts.
Perhaps, one day, I’ll get the chance to really find out why this woman has me tied up in knots. Even when I thought she was related to the devil. Even when I was sneering insults in her direction.
“Just because I recognize that doesn’t mean I like you or forgive you.
” Her tone isn’t vicious, but her words land hard anyway.
I try not to let them snuff out the bit of hope I was just coaxing into something more than a spark.
“I’m simply acknowledging I don’t have to be a bitch about everything. ”
I bark out a laugh and wipe away the ink from her skin. “Fair enough, Cupcake, fair enough.”
Her nose still scrunches up at the nickname, but she doesn’t glare at me.
“Since you know about the town I grew up in, since you live here,” I keep my voice light, “tell me about where you grew up.”
I’m not asking about Lola; I’m asking about the rest of it.
She studies my face for a moment and whatever she sees there has her walls coming down just a little bit. Not much, but enough.
How I manage to keep her talking throughout the rest of the session is a mystery to me. Hopefully, when I see her again, I’ll be able to hold onto some of the ground I gained today. I know I won’t get to keep it all, and will have to work for it again, but it’s okay.
I have the time and I’m learning to breathe through my impatience. Honestly, I fucking hate it. But it’s what I need to do.
When we’re all done and the next appointment is confirmed, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of paper. I don’t know why my hands are shaking as I unfold it, but they are. If Lara notices, she doesn’t call me out on it.
Thankfully.
On the paper is the drawing of an iris and my heart clenches in my chest at the sight of it.
“Vanessa drew it,” Lara’s voice is soft in a way it only is when she talks about her daughter. The fondness there is something I crave. “She meant to show you when you stayed for dinner but got distracted. She made me promise to bring it to you today.”
My neck gets warm as I run my fingers through my hair. I am absolutely not getting choked up while looking at a ten-year old’s drawing.
I don’t even think about it, I roll myself over to the wall and tack it up where I’ll be able to see it all the time. When I roll back and survey the placement, I give a nod of satisfaction. It looks like was always meant to be right there.
When I look over at Lara, she has a look on her face I can’t quite read.
“If I’m lucky enough to get another one, I’ll put it up in my room at the clubhouse.”
“Okay,” Lara’s voice is gentle, almost reverent.
And then she walks out the door. I’m left wondering if she’ll turn me away if I show up at her place with dinner again.
I’m addicted to being around my girls. And they are mine. I just need to earn their trust first.