Surrender of a Tattooist: Obsessive Dark Romance Alpha Bad Boy (Tattooist Series Book 2) (12 page)

Cliff finished putting his equipment into the enclaves and away, and then stretched. It had gotten late and his hands were slightly sore. They’d had a huge rush right after the custom clients had left, and he had wound up working a lot more hours than he had planned to.

He picked up his phone and saw that Pixie had texted him to ask if he wanted to come by. He texted back a yes, and then closed up the drawers he kept his ink and other work items in before heading for the door.

Cara was in the front. Her face wore a tired look and he paused for a moment. “How’d it go?”

She smiled. “Good. If today was any indication, I might be able to pay rent and eat a steak or two.”

“That’s always a plus. How was it out on the East Coast?” If they were working together, he was going to make an effort to be civil. He owed Hawk that.

“It was good. For the most part. I mean, I had to bust my ass for a couple years but then I started to pull in higher rates and all. “

“So why did you come back? I mean, it isn’t really my business, I guess, but…”

“Oh, it was a lot of things.” She finished totaling up her take and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “I hated the snow. I hated the cost of living. I thought L.A. was insane but Manhattan is way worse. And I missed having a yard, as weird as that is.”

He nodded. “I can see that. I don’t like the idea of living in an apartment at all and I don’t think there’s much choice in Manhattan.”

“No, they don’t have a lot of free-standing houses up that way, unless you want to live in another borough or state, and if you do the commute is murder. I did live on Staten Island for a while just because I wanted some privacy, and I had to live there so I could afford a place without having to take on roommates.”

“Yeah? I just jettisoned what I hope was the last roommate I’ll ever have.”

“I moved into a hotel room for now. I’m staying at the Chateau Marmont.”

“Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve never been. I always figured the place had to be haunted, given how many people overdosed there.”

She shrugged. “I have a room for now, but if I keep making money I might move into one of the bungalows. Um, I don’t guess I could get you to give me a ride home?”

He knew he was a jerk if he said no, but if Pixie knew he had driven Cara home shit was likely to hit the fan, and he wouldn’t blame her for throwing it either. Working with his ex was one thing, driving her home another.

Cara waved her hand, obviously thinking the same thing. “Oh, sorry. Never mind. I just…I think I’m too tired to think before I talk. I flew in early this morning, and as soon as I got here it was rush and hurry. I’m a little punch-drunk.”

He was not, repeat not, going to tell her he didn’t want to take her because it would upset Pixie. He just said, “I’m going the opposite way. It’s not far from here. The hotel, I mean. If you were planning on taking a cab, that’ll cost you.”

She winced. “I know. I got gouged earlier.”

Jesus. Was he really going to walk off and leave her without a ride? Just then the door opened, and Mitch Rider walked in. Cliff sighed with relief. “Mitch!”

Mitch glanced around. “Hey there, did I get here too late tonight?”

His slow drawl filled the room and Cara blinked then said, “Um, it’s closing time, but I think Hawk’s still here.”

Hawk, coming out of the office, said, “Sorry, Mitch; it’s been a hell of a day and if I tried to tat you today, I’d end up wrecking you.”

Mitch laughed and said, “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Before he could think about it, Cliff blurted out, “Hey Mitch, you head back to Chateau Marmont?”

Mitch nodded, “Yes, why?”

He practically shoved Cara at him. “This is Cara Van Tear, tattoo artist extraordinaire.”

Mitch whistled “I’ve heard of you.”

She smiled a slow sexy smile that Cliff knew too well. “Have you now?”

Cliff interjected quickly, “She was just headed home. Why don’t you give her a lift if you’re headed that way?”

Cara’s reluctance was written all over her face. Cliff didn’t wait to hear the answer. He bolted from the shop, relief filling him.

The last thing he was willing to do was be an asshole to any woman. He’d been an asshole in his past, and every time he thought about that it made him feel ashamed. But he wanted even less to hurt Pixie, and he knew exactly how she would see him hanging out with Cara, even for a minute.

That gave him pause.

He was rapidly falling in love with Pixie, and he knew it. She was an amazing woman, and he knew that too, but what would happen if she didn’t get past that cheating ex of hers? Was he going to spend the rest of his life walking on eggshells?

He got into his car and sat there for a moment, thinking hard.

Irritation filtered through him, and it was directed at Pixie. He was falling for her, hard. He knew that. What he didn’t know was if she was falling for him. What if she wasn’t sure? And worse, what if she wasn’t over her ex yet?

That suddenly seemed a bigger issue than anything. He’d felt guilty with Cara, but he didn’t still love her. Pixie never seemed to let the thought of her ex out of her mind for very long. How could the two of them ever be together in any real sense?

He cranked the car and gunned the engine. He grabbed his phone and texted Pixie, saying he couldn’t make it. Then he floored it and whipped out of the lot, heading away from the road that would lead him to Pixie.

Pixie read the text again. Her face crumpled as disappointment filled her. She’d wanted to show Cliff the new clothes Joy and she had just brought home. They made her feel pretty and professional at the same time, and she’d wanted to talk to him about his day, and hers.

The text was brusque and held no explanation. Just:
Sorry, something came up and I can’t make it tonight.

Nothing else.

No call you later, or even tomorrow. No ‘hey this happened’ or anything.

Fear rolled in her belly and her heart clenched like a fist, stopping her breath for a moment.

Was he with Cara? Was she the thing that had come up?

Tears formed in her eyes. She could hear Joy out in the living room, getting ready to go over to Hawk’s place, and hurt rolled through her entire body, leaving her bruised and aching.

It was so unlike Cliff, that sharp and inexplicable text. There was only one explanation, and it came in the form of a beautiful blonde with leather pants and a shared past with Cliff.

Her fists balled up.

Joy knocked and then opened the door, “I’m headed out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pixie managed to smile, “Cool. If I don’t see you before I go on my interview, I’ll see you after.”

Joy nodded and closed the door. Pixie waited, her heart hammering in her chest. As soon as she heard the front door closed she burst into tears and staggered over to her bed.

It was an awful feeling; one she had hoped never to feel again. She’d done her best to wall herself away from the pain of being dumped, but it hadn’t done her any good at all.

She’d always believed in love, even when it didn’t work out for her. She’d known for a long time that Joy and Hawk would be great for each other. She had even known that she and Cliff would be great together; what she hadn’t counted on was that witch Cara walking back into his life and taking over.

How could he not be over Cara?

Cara had said it was all her fault, but was it? Cliff had been really ambiguous about it and when she’d seen Hawk before leaving that day, all he had said was that they’d ended a long time ago and he’d figured they were both grownups and past it. But what if they weren’t?

What if they were together right then?

The images that filled her mind crumpled her self-esteem like a paper napkin and left her shaken and angry. Not just angry either. Pissed off. More pissed off than she had ever been in her entire life.

The urge to get in her car and haul ass down to the shop was strong, but she knew the shop was closed. She could drive over to Cliff’s, hoping to catch the two of them in the act, but what if she did catch them in the act? Could her heart take that again?

No.

Absolutely not.

She sat up and stood. She stared around at the room, trying to figure out what to do. The logical part of her wanted to believe that something had indeed happened and that she was just jumping to a conclusion based on her own past and hurts, but her heart, that traitorous beating heart of hers, and the wounds of her past, were all overwriting that logic and screaming at her that he was with Cara, and the two of them were probably tucked up into his bed at that very minute.

She blew out a long breath and tried to tame her thoughts.

Okay, something had happened. So why not ask him what happened?

Because he hadn’t offered, that was why.

The bastard.

That last thought bothered her more than any other. Cliff was a good man, and she knew it. She was letting her anger and her own issues get in the way and twist her feelings for him. That was wrong.

She took a few breaths, trying to center herself. When that didn’t work, she went to her dresser and pulled out her yoga gear.

She’d go do an hour or two of Bikram yoga, let the heat and physical exertion calm her thoughts and body, and then she would call him or text him.

Doing either of those things when she was so angry would do nothing but make sure that they had a huge fight she wasn’t prepared for.

A fight that would probably end up in a breakup she was absolutely not ready for, a breakup that might happen no matter what she did.

She straightened her shoulders and changed quickly. She grabbed her mat and headed out the door, willing herself not to cry.

Cliff heard his phone ringing, but he didn’t answer it. Pixie had texted him an hour before to ask if he was okay, and he hadn’t answered that either.

He knew he should. He wanted to, but he really needed some space before he talked to her so he could work out what he had to say in his head.

He started a load of laundry, not bothering to sort the clothes before he heaved them into the washing machine. Out his window he could see the neighbors’ kids playing football, and he sighed as he leaned against the washer, watching the kid’s parents talking as they watched their kids.

That was what he wanted, a real relationship. Family. Everything he’d had growing up.

He turned away and headed back into the living room. His phone had gone silent, and he picked it up and checked it. Pixie had only called the once; the other call had come from a regular client.

“Two phone calls in six hours… how lame am I?”

He winced.

Most of his friends had wandered away when he’d stopped staying out all night drinking and partying. He hadn’t made a lot of new friends yet either, something he really needed to do.

He tapped a finger on the screen on the phone, wondering if he should call Pixie back now or not. He wasn’t sure if he could figure out a way to tell her what was on his mind without sounding like he was rushing her into something, so he set it back down without pressing the screen.

He needed to know if she was ready for a relationship with him, and other than straight out asking her if she was, he didn’t see a way to find that out.

He needed to know because, if she wasn’t, he was going to have to dial back his feelings for her. The idea of being hurt again by a woman who didn’t feel as much for him as he felt for her wasn’t a good one; it wasn’t something he wanted either.

Cara had astounded him with her confession, and, while he wanted to let that go, the more he thought about it the more it enraged him.

No matter what she said, and she had had valid points, she could have just talked to him. If she had loved him as much as she had said she had, she would have wanted to work that out.

She’d put her tattooing ahead of them, no matter what she said. She hadn’t left for any other reason, and under that self-serving confession that truth remained whether she saw it or not.

Nobody who loved someone would have been willing to just walk like that.

Now he was with Pixie, who he had managed to fall in love with too, and he was facing a similar situation. If she didn’t care about him the way he did about her, it would be far better to break it off right then and spare himself the pain.

And if she did love him, then she had to give up that specter of her ex, except that was easier said than done.

If she wasn’t ready to let go of all the baggage that came from a crashed relationship, how could they have anything good?

He wasn’t perfect either. He didn’t mind not flirting with other women. He’d long since stopped dating women who ended up under his needle, and flirting was usually just part of the service as far as he was concerned, and he was never serious when he did it.

What he did mind was wondering whether or not Pixie was going to turn into a psycho jealous girlfriend. That was last thing that he wanted or needed in his life.

Nobody needed that in their life.

He wanted to believe that she wasn’t going to turn out like that. The fact that she hadn’t called him a million times or demanded to know what was happening made him wonder if he had misjudged her, and that made him feel even more ashamed for breaking their date so rudely. It also made him wonder if she even cared if he showed up.

Conflicted and confused by the whole thing, Cliff paced the confines of his small house.

He saw her car pulling into his driveway, and he went to the door and opened it.

Pixie, dressed in sweaty yoga pants and a thin tank, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, got out of the car and walked toward him.

She was angry. He saw it written all over her face. She stopped just short of the door and asked, “What the hell, Cliff? I was beginning to wonder if you’d dropped dead. Or if you were just trying to break up with me. Or what. I mean, that text was shitty. What the fuck?”

She was right. He said, “I needed some time to think.”

Her eyes blazed. “Really? Maybe you should tell me about what. You know, I was trying really hard to just…just give you some space. If you’d said you needed it, I would have honored that, but you didn’t say anything and…and I don’t know what the hell is going on. What did I do?”

He shouldn’t be angry.

But he was.

He was angry at himself for being an asshole to Cara. He was angry that he had to even deal with Cara. He was mad at himself for not going to Pixie, or at least telling her he needed that space. And he was angry at her too, even though he knew that was pretty irrational. “I don’t have to give you an explanation for every move I make.”

Shit. That was not what he had intended to say.

Pixie’s face went white. She spoke in a low and deadly voice. “You’re right. You don’t.” She turned and headed for her car.

His brain screamed at him that he was being a real jerk, to go after her, but he couldn’t get past the doubts and worries.

She pulled away, leaving him standing in the doorway, thunderstruck and remorseful, but still frozen in place.