Abiding Ink (Inked in the Steel City #4) (4 page)

“Sure. I’ve actually already got some recipes set aside. But didn’t they already promise to visit on Christmas?” She’d been planning on celebrating with her brother and sister for the past few weeks, at least.

“Well, they said they’d stop by, but until today I wasn’t sure if they’d stay for dinner and everything.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know.” Her mother’s euphoric expression faded, giving way to a frown. “I thought maybe they’d want to rush out of here and go spend the day with your father.”

Mallory’s heart sank. “Mom…”

“Guess I was wrong.” Her mother’s smile crept slowly back into place. “I’ll have the three of you to myself for a whole day. I can’t wait.”

Gripped by silent panic, Mallory cast her gaze around the kitchen, searching for something – anything – to change the subject. She felt so awkward – so useless – when her mother brought up her father. Every time it happened, she ached to say or do something to make it all better, but she had no idea what that something could be. She knew very well that the pain of her father’s betrayal hadn’t faded from her mother’s heart, and the void he’d left wasn’t one a daughter could fill. And she hated that – hated that she couldn’t help.

“What’ve you got in the shopping bag?” her mother asked, mercifully changing the subject. “Christmas presents?”

“Actually, no.” Mallory had to fight a smile. “I went on a little shopping trip with a few of the nurses from my shift today.” Wanda had organized the excursion, and it had been fun – more fun than Mallory had anticipated. “I bought an outfit for Dr. Anthony’s holiday party.”

“Ooh, you’ve got to let me see. Go put it on.”

Mallory retreated to her room, lifted her purchase from its bag and admired it for a few seconds before stripping out of her jeans and sweater. Then, carefully, she slid into the dress.

It wasn’t what she’d set out to buy, that was for sure. But as soon as she’d laid eyes on the glittering midnight-blue sheath, she’d stopped in her tracks. Fact was, the color would go perfectly with Tyler’s eyes. That thought was what had sealed the deal – that and Wanda, who’d talked Mallory into trying it on and had then insisted that it was perfect.

Opening her closet door, Mallory stared into the mirror inside. It showed her exactly what the department store’s fitting room mirror had – a beautiful dress. A sexy dress. It fell to just below her knees, but it was figure-hugging, and a narrow but plunging keyhole cutout in front kept the mandarin collar from being too demure. Raising a hand, she traced the gap with a fingertip, feeling her skin pebble underneath.

So much for her plans to wear something nun-worthy to the party. For something so dark and simple, the dress managed to be pretty flashy. But it wasn’t Dr. Anthony’s reaction she thought of as she traced the keyhole – it was Tyler’s.

He’d agreed to be her date when she’d asked him, dressed in baggy scrubs. What would he think when he saw her in the dress?

The thought was exciting – maybe a little too exciting. She wanted to impress him more than she’d anticipated. Maybe the desire had something to do with the fact that she’d stopped by Hot Ink’s website again. And again. Each time, she hadn’t been able to resist clicking on his page, where a portrait showcased him in his element – tattooing.

Watching him clumsily push around a meal cart at the hospital had been cute, but looking through his portfolio had assured her that he was, in fact,
very
good with his hands, at least when it came to wielding a needle. His art was so impressive that she’d be willing to bet a paycheck that he was exceptionally good at anything that required a delicate touch. Hell, maybe the meal cart had a bad wheel. He was no klutz, that was for sure.

“Mallory?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Do you need help zipping up or something?”

“No, mom,” she answered, striding to the door and stepping out into the hall. “I’m coming.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “So, who’s the lucky man?”

Mallory gave a little twirl, as much to avoid meeting her mother’s gaze as to show off the back of the dress. “What?”

“That’s the kind of dress you choose with someone in mind. Who is it?”

“Actually,” Mallory conceded, spinning to a slow halt, “I do have a date for the party. He’s a volunteer I met at the hospital.”

Her mother nodded slowly. “The dress is gorgeous. It really flatters you…”

“But?” Mallory said softly, sensing the word hanging in the air.

“I just hope he’s worthy of you. That’s all.”

“Mom.” Mallory gave one of the little waves her mother was famous for. “I just met him a couple days ago, and it’s only a work party. I thought it would be nice to have a date instead of going alone. It’s not like we’re going to get married.”

Her mother flashed a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re going to the party. God knows you spend way too much time taking care of people at work, then coming home and taking care of me. You deserve to have some fun. You know me; I just can’t help but worry.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, mom. I promise not to hand him my heart on a silver platter at Dr. Anthony’s party. I know better than that.”

* * * * *

The atmosphere felt wrong the moment Tyler stepped through his front door, tired after another late night of tattooing. The TV was on, but Kassie wasn’t on the couch, and there were weird sounds coming from down the hall, where his bedroom was located. A sense of foreboding crept over him, and even before he reached his room, he knew who he’d find.

“Kassie let you in, huh?” he asked, pausing in his own doorway.

“Ungh!” Dustin grunted as he pushed a barbell into the air, locking his elbows and engaging in several moments of heavy, dangerous breathing before lowering the thing and sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bench.

Yeah, Tyler kept a weightlifting bench in his room, up against the wall opposite his bed. It was the only place in his apartment it really fit.

“Hey bro,” Dustin said. “Just pumpin’ some iron.” He raised one trembling arm and curled it in on itself, flexing.

The sight wasn’t particularly impressive, which was no surprise, given his lifting technique.

“You really shouldn’t lift without a spotter,” Tyler said, imagining coming home to find Dustin pinned beneath a barbell, his elbows hyperextended and useless.

“Ah, I’m fine.” Dustin stood, sweeping a lock of too-long hair out of his eyes. Not that Tyler had anything against long hair, but Dustin had let his bangs grow out into a weird little swoop that made him look like a teenaged pop star.

“I figured you’d head straight to mom and dad’s, get some visiting in before you came here.” He really had. Coming home to Dustin’s grunts after a long day at the hospital and Hot Ink hadn’t exactly been a part of his plans, which had included scrounging up something to eat, crashing in bed and indulging in a few sinful, Mallory-focused thoughts before passing out.

“I’ll see them tomorrow. Figured mom’s probably all uptight planning for Christmas. I’d rather be here. Wanna order a pizza?”

Translation: would Tyler order a pizza for the both of them and pay for it himself?

Tyler was well-acquainted with Dustin-speak, even if he didn’t see his only brother all that often now that he was attending school in Ohio.

There’d been sandwich supplies in the fridge when he’d left, but he didn’t need to look to know that Dustin had wiped those out already. “Yeah, whatever. But I’m not going out for beer. It’s late and I have work in the morning.”

“Who gets tattooed at the crack of dawn? Thought you didn’t have to head in to the shop until afternoon or something.”

“I’m doing some volunteer work before I head in to Hot Ink.”

Dustin showed no interest in Tyler’s volunteer stuff. Big surprise. “How about sausage and mushrooms?” he asked, his face still red from the exertion of weightlifting.

“Pepperoni and mushrooms.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called in the order.

“Hey uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Dustin approached after Tyler ended the call.

“Yeah – what?” Tyler’s curiosity – which normally flatlined in Dustin’s presence – spiked a little. Dustin was a college senior. In a few months he’d be graduating and heading out into the working world. Maybe he was finally getting over his partying frat boy phase.

Dustin raised his arm and flexed again. “How about some free ink? I think these guns could use a little decoration. Maybe something tribal – what do you think?”

Tyler sucked in a breath, then exhaled slowly. How was this his one and only brother? Dustin had started out so … bearable. Okay, so he’d always been a little bit of a brat, but he’d started acting like a real douche during his freshman year of college and hadn’t gone back to normal since.

“I don’t know about free ink. That might not fly with Hot Ink’s owner,” Tyler lied. “You know a portion of my earnings goes to the shop, and I’ve got a lot of clients scheduled. It’s pretty common for people to come in this time of year to get tattoos as Christmas gifts.”

In reality, Jed wouldn’t care if Tyler wanted to tattoo his brother on his own dime. But there was no way Tyler was going to do that. Dustin wasn’t mature enough to make a permanent decision about his body, and Tyler wasn’t about to ink something regrettable into his baby brother’s skin, then watch him unveil it in front of the whole family on Christmas.

Their mom would freak.

Plus, if Dustin asked Tyler to tattoo YOLO on his body, he’d have to kill him then and there, and that would ruin the holidays for the entire family.

“Ah, man! That’s seriously lame. You tattooed Kassie! She told me.”

“Yeah, well that was different.” Even though she was the youngest at just 20, Kassie was significantly more advanced than Dustin when it came to making smart decisions. Her tattoo was also small and discreet – Tyler had been glad to do it for her. “Somebody bought her a gift certificate to Hot Ink as a birthday gift.”

It was sort of true. Tyler had tattooed her – at no charge – around the time of her twentieth birthday. And that was all Dustin needed to know.

Dustin shook his head. “Sucks, man.” Striding out of the room and down the hall, he collapsed on the couch in the living room. “How soon is the pizza supposed to be here?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops.” Tyler retreated to the kitchen and filled a glass at the sink tap. At nearly midnight, it was too late to call Mallory – she was probably in bed already, getting some rest in preparation for her early morning shift. He’d have to ask her when he saw her the next day: would she like to accompany him to his work’s holiday party, too?

He still had the glitter-encrusted gingerbread man in one of his pockets, and he was holding onto it purposely – with any luck, it would be his ticket to a second date with Mallory. True, they hadn’t even been on their first date yet, but a gut feeling told him that he’d be more than ready for a second by the time it was over, and the Hot Ink party was a perfect excuse. At least the holidays were good for something – something other than babysitting Dustin and financing his pizza habit.

“Hey, Tyler.”

Mallory approached him in the hall with a smile, and he actually managed not to come close to running her over with the meal cart.

Progress.

“Mallory. I was hoping I’d see you before you took your lunch break. Listen, whenever that is, would you like to grab something to eat with me?”

“Yeah.” She looked surprised, but her smile didn’t fade. “It’ll have to be quick, but sure. My break starts at one.”

“You know this area better than I do. We’ll go wherever you decide.”

“Okay. See you then.” She strode off, moving briskly in a set of sky blue scrubs that really would’ve shown the damage if he’d upended food onto them.

“Is that you, Tyler?” A familiar voice echoed from across the hall, and Tyler gave the cart a push, starting slowly forward.

“Yeah, it’s me Ms. Sherwin.”

* * * * *

Mallory chose a café that was only a couple minutes’ walk from the hospital for her and Tyler’s lunch date, if she could call it that. The service would be quick and the atmosphere would be casual – appropriate for downing a sandwich or salad in her scrubs, taking care to leave time for a cup of coffee. The short walk was one she’d made quite a few times before, but this time, her stomach cramped with more than just emptiness.

She was nervous. Sure, in the heat of the moment, she’d worked up the courage to ask Tyler out, spurred on by the threat of Dr. Anthony’s roving eye. But it wasn’t until now that she’d had a chance to actually get to know Tyler at all. In a few minutes, he’d go from being the blue-eyed, tattooed hottie with cart-pushing issues to being … well, whoever he was.

He seemed nice. She never would’ve asked him out if he hadn’t. But all she knew was that he was kind enough to put up with Ms. Sherwin for his sister’s sake, and what she’d gleaned from his brief bio on Hot Ink’s website. Born and raised in Pittsburgh, just like her…

It wasn’t much to go on. Anyway, getting to know someone – really know someone – took ages. And sometimes, even when you thought you knew someone, you really didn’t.

He held the café door open for her without a word, and she eyed his hand, long fingers against glass, all traces of ink hidden by his jacket sleeve. She knew what was underneath though, and the thought sent a prickle of heat down her spine.

“Thanks,” she said, stepping into the café.

“No problem.”

Smiling, she told herself not to get all bent out of shape. Like she’d told her mother, Tyler was her date to a work party. She didn’t need to give him the third degree in order to relax and enjoy a not-so-solitary evening with him. It wasn’t like they were going to get that intimate under the watchful eyes of her co-workers. Maybe they’d have a drink, even share a dance or two, at most, in the company of people like Wanda and Dr. Anthony.

After a brief wait in line, they ordered their food, and Tyler pulled out his wallet while she still had a hand buried wrist-deep in her purse.

“I’ve got mine,” she said, pulling out a few bills.

“Don’t worry about it.” He handed over a debit card, and in a couple seconds flat, it was done – he’d paid for both their meals.

“That was nice,” she said, cheeks heating a little as they each carried their separate trays to an empty corner table. “But you really didn’t have to. Let me make it up to you another day – we can get lunch again, and it’ll be my treat.”

The last thing she wanted him to think was that she hit on volunteers regularly in the name of scoring a free lunch, or that she wasn’t willing to pay her way. His gesture had been unexpected, unnecessary … and sweet, even though she was trying not to feel that way about it. They were way too casual for him to be picking up both their meal checks.

He smiled, just barely – smirked, really. “I’ll gladly get lunch with you again, but you’re not going to pay.”

“Well, someone’s old-fashioned,” was all she could manage to say as she took a tentative sip of her coffee, confirming that it was indeed too hot.

His smile broadened. “Is that a bad thing?”

It could be, but for some reason, she was more charmed by the apparent contrast between his appearance and his scruples than anything. There was just something about a guy who towered over six feet, was covered in tattoos and spent his spare time holding doors open for women and carting around lunch to convalescent old ladies. “Depends.”

“On?” His eyes flickered up to meet hers and he held her gaze as he took a long drink of his own coffee, apparently not bothered by the temperature.

“I don’t know,” she said, inexplicably flustered. “I like being a modern woman – having a career, being independent and all that. Letting a guy pay for my lunch just because I’m female kind of feels like cheating, somehow.”

His brows drew together, and she hoped she hadn’t offended him. Not when he’d only been being generous.

“I didn’t pay for your meal because you’re female – I paid because you’re my date. I asked you here and I paid. That doesn’t seem like cheating to me.”

An errant butterfly sprang into action somewhere in her middle, fluttering as the word “date” sank in. At least he was straightforward, let her know how he saw things instead of leaving her to guess – she liked that. “Okay. Well, for the record, I think it was generous of you, and totally unnecessary. I wouldn’t have been offended at all if you’d let me pay for my own food.”

“Duly noted.” He took a bite of his sandwich, and she let her gaze linger on his wrists, studying where his sleeves slid back a little, exposing hints of ink. She’d always found the sight of a well-done tattoo interesting, even sexy if it was on the right guy, but Tyler…

He took the tattoo thing to a whole new level of hotness. Visions of his inked-up arms danced in her head like sugarplums as she started on her turkey-on-wheat. She had no idea if he had ink anywhere else on his body, but it seemed likely, and she didn’t mind imagining where it might be. “So you’ve always lived in Pittsburgh,” she said eventually, vaguely worried that he’d somehow read her mind, leaving her epically embarrassed.

“Yeah.” A faint look of surprise flashed in his eyes, alerting her to her mistake.

Her stomach knotted instantly, and her cheeks grew hotter than her coffee cup.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

There was nothing to do but admit the truth. “I looked up the tattoo studio you said you worked at. Read your bio.” More than once, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything to increase her embarrassment. Thank God. She was beginning to like him more and more despite a little voice in the back of her head that urged her not to fall head-over-heels. Which normally wasn’t something she’d consider herself capable of doing over a single, quick café lunch, but Tyler’s sweet and sexy contradictory allure was a potent combination.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? I was born and raised here. Have a lot of family in the city.”

For some reason, Tyler’s full lips curved down in a momentary frown. Or maybe she’d only imagined it. “I’ve got family here too.”

“Your little sister?”

He nodded. “Her and my parents. She’s a student at CCAC. Lives in the same apartment complex I do, with a couple of roommates.”

Tyler had to love his sister – why else would he be driving her around and volunteering with her? But maybe she was a little too close for comfort, which, in a way, Mallory could understand. She didn’t mind sharing an apartment with just her mom, but having her brother or sister for neighbors would probably have driven her a little crazy within weeks. “I’ve got a brother and a sister, but they don’t live
that
close. I share an apartment with my mom, though.”

A tiny part of her worried that that made her sound childish, and guilt assailed her instantly. It wasn’t that she feared being on her own; it was that she wanted to be there for her mom – to support her health, physical and otherwise. The past few years had been hard for her mother – really hard. And who better to be there for her than her daughter, the registered nurse, her oldest child? She shouldn’t be embarrassed to say she lived with her mom – feeling a twinge of discomfort when she said it out loud made her feel like a bad daughter … a bad person.

But Tyler didn’t seem inclined to judge. “Normally, it’s just me at my place,” he said. “But I’ve got a visitor until after Christmas. My little brother.” His frown made a quick appearance again, and sensing that he wasn’t exactly happy to have a holiday house guest, she didn’t question him on the matter.

“Isn’t it weird how getting together with family around the holidays can be fun and grueling at the same time?” she asked instead.

He laughed, a short, husky sound that sent a bolt of awareness through her. “Yeah. It can be weird. Definitely.”

She couldn’t resist smiling. His laugh made her want to laugh, too. Mostly because it was unexpected – he didn’t look like the type to laugh much, just like he didn’t look like the type to humor handsy old ladies.

They made a little more small talk, and although it was nothing out of the ordinary, she enjoyed it more than she’d expected to. The fact that she got to stare at him the whole time may have had something to do with it.

“Listen,” he said when she dabbed her mouth with her napkin, then dropped it onto her empty plate, “part of the reason why I asked you to have lunch with me was that I wanted to ask you something else.”

Her heart skipped a beat as his words lit a spark of curiosity inside her. “What?”

“My work has a Christmas party too. My boss throws one every year.” He reached into his pocket, pulling something out with obvious care. “The invitation is for me plus one. Would you like to be my date?”

He laid the invitation down on the table, unfolding it and smoothing it against the surface.

A bubble of laughter rose up inside her, and she settled for grinning at the paper gingerbread man, which was complete with glue-dot eyes and glittery trim. “Does your boss have kids?”

“No, actually… I think one of my other co-worker’s nieces made this.” He flipped the invitation over, revealing a backside that was devoid of glitter and printed with a time, date and address. “The party is on Saturday – the day after yours. If you’re free—”

“I’ll go,” she said. He’d agreed to attend her work party – she could go to his, too. There were certainly worse fates than being escorted to parties two nights in a row by the likes of Tyler DeHaven. And besides, she was a little dazzled by the be-glittered gingerbread man. What kind of place
was
the Hot Ink Tattoo Studio, exactly?

Thinking back to her web search, a bolt of nervous anticipation sailed through her. Soon, she’d find out for herself.

* * * * *

Seeing Mallory for the first time had taken Tyler’s breath away, and she’d been wearing scrubs then. Seeing her in the dress she’d chosen for her boss’s party nearly killed him. Drawing a deep, quiet breath and refusing to let it rush out, he took her hand as she descended the last of her apartment building’s stairs.

“You look amazing.” The midnight blue dress glittered in the lighting that illuminated the complex’s lot. The fabric was dark, but not at all subdued. The skirt hugged her every curve, and she wore a black jacket with a cropped body and long sleeves.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and raising a hand to touch her hair, which had been swept up into some sort of knot that let a few curls hang free. “I hope you don’t mind that I came down when I saw your car pull up.  I’d invite you inside, but I’m afraid it’d be awkward – kind of like leaving for a high school prom dance, if my mom has her way.”