Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (9 page)

He had to say something—something that would let Blair know that Starling’s idea of a party and his were
not
the same thing. “So…we’ll still have time to discuss business tonight, though.” He paused. “Blair? Would love your input.”

Before Blair could answer, Starling let out a groan. “Business? Ugh. I just want to drink and have some
fun
. I think I’m owed that much at least, since I agreed to give up a huge party on the Fourth of July to come do your festival.”

“What did you say?” Ben asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? I changed the opening date,” said Grizz. “Works out great—the town’s gonna have fireworks anyway, right? We can open Ink Fest on the Fourth of July with a bang.”

Ben went completely still, but next to him Blair let out a gasp.

Oh, shit.

He turned slowly to look at Blair—the pleasant, composed expression she’d been wearing was completely gone. It had been replaced by a murderous look, and her aqua eyes snapped with fury. He stopped breathing for a few seconds.

She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “We can talk about this later,” he murmured.

“Oh, you can count on that,” Blair whispered furiously. “But it will have to be tomorrow. I have another…engagement tonight so I won’t be able to make your
business
party.”

With a nod at Grizz and a sweeping glance in Starling’s direction, she snapped up her notebook from the counter and walked to the door. Pausing, she turned around. “Nice to meet you.”

And then she was gone.

Ben stood there for a moment. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to trick her. Why would she think that he had? But instead of feeling angry in return, he felt as if bees were buzzing in his head—like the echo of his tattoo machine.

Grizz whistled. “What crawled under her saddle?”

Feigning a weary sigh, Ben leaned his elbows on the counter. “Something that I’ll probably have to spend weeks removing.”

“You sound like that’s going to be chore, but something tells me you won’t mind a bit.” Grizz laughed.

Starling didn’t laugh. “As long as she stays out of my way, I’ll be happy,” she said in a silky voice. “We can make that happen, can’t we?”

Ben doubted it.

Chapter Seven

Late the following morning as she clenched her fists against her forehead, Blair stood in the doorway of the decorations trailer and let out a silent scream.

It was horrible.

It was going to take at least a week to make this place useable. When Ivy had said “trailer,” Blair hadn’t expected it to be the kind that people
lived
in, even if it did have electricity and running water. She wasn’t sure that people had been the only occupants, either, since the place had an animal smell to it.

She wrinkled her nose, took a tentative step forward, and flipped on the lights. To the right of the front door, there was a living room, which was packed to the ceiling with boxes—cheap decorations spilling out of most of them. To the left was the kitchen, complete with counters, cabinets, and a sink. There were even curtains over the window, which looked out on the alley.

She walked across the old linoleum kitchen floor and peeked into the narrow hallway to the left. More boxes. There was a bedroom at the end and it, too, was crammed full. There was another door, which had to lead into the bathroom, but because of the stuff piled in the narrow hallway to the left, Blair wasn’t able to get the warped door open to check that out. It would have to wait, because she needed to think.

Turning around, she walked back into the kitchen and sank down on a folding chair in front of a cluttered folding table and threw her list down in disgust.

“Shit.
Shit
.”

The trailer was the least of her worries.

Her anxiety was growing like mold under a leaky sink and the more she tried to make sense of it, the farther her fingers bit into her palms. She’d never had this problem at her job in the city, even when unexpected issues cropped up, because she planned things months in advance.

That was the problem—
everything
in Celebration so far had been unexpected, starting with the fact that she’d even come here. And after she had? Within days—she’d applied, and received—a new job that she didn’t even really want. Then there was the parade contest, which she’d suggested. Ink Fest, which she definitely hadn’t. Her agreeing to
plan
Ink Fest—she’d been blindsided, and now she had no clue what to do. It was like she was sinking into a black hole of her own making.

Jesus.

Had she lost her mind? Because of all those things, she now had
new
things on her list, which was growing about as quickly as the ball of nerves in her gut.

Buy a car. Plan Lola’s wedding. Produce an award-winning parade that would propel her out of this crazy town, which could only happen if she could
still
convince Ben to move his tattoo festival.

Well, she hadn’t done too well with that. And now it would happen right in the middle of her parade. There would be burly guys with bare chests full of leering skulls elbow to elbow with old ladies in bedazzled kitten shirts.

If anything, it was more set in stone than ever—he’d never get rid of that Starling woman—that much was obvious. And it was even
more
obvious that Ben had decided to mix business with pleasure. Not with Starling—Blair wasn’t stupid. She’d seen ever-so-slight disgust and disappointment on Ben’s face when he’d looked at the woman. No, Ben wanted Blair.

And she wanted him, too.

With a groan, she shoved away the memory of the heat of his lips on hers for the thousandth time. She’d have to try to talk to him again—no kissing this time. It was the only way to dig herself out.

But first, she could try to accomplish
something
.

Slowly, she pulled her list toward her and glanced at it, skipping past the major items. She could tackle an easy one, couldn’t she? It would make her feel better.
There.
Take spring clothes to the dry cleaner, which were in Lola’s car, ready to go. Was there a dry cleaner in Celebration? There had to be.

But like everything else, she would have to ask, and inevitably, the person she asked would try to draw her into a conversation about something else. Even Lola, who never used to be like that. Her aunt’s abrupt city instincts had softened, and while her chatty gossip was charming some of the time, other times Blair wanted to grab Lola by the arm and scream
Spit it out!
But that would be rude, because Blair had made the
choice
to leave the city behind. She just hoped she didn’t end up in the loony bin because of it.

Sighing, she pushed away from the rickety table and grabbed a stack of folders, which of course weren’t labeled, before they fell to the floor. She walked across the room, flopped them on the kitchen counter, and flipped one open. It was full of chamber-of-commerce brochures from the last decade. So was the one underneath it. Yikes. She shoved them aside and opened a cabinet to discover a random assortment of miniature Halloween pumpkins and Ziploc baggies stuffed with used raffle tickets. She shut the door, opened another, and a pile of costume catalogs cascaded around her.

Pressing her lips together, she closed the door and looked down at the mess covering her feet. A picture of a man in a cheesy Dracula costume sneered back at her, his mouth covered in fake blood.

He looked kind of like one of the skulls in the pictures in Ben’s studio—and Blair narrowed her eyes at the vampire. “You suck,” she told him.

Well, yeah. He’s Dracula. Of course he does.
“Argh!”

Okay, this was ridiculous. She had to talk to Ben—had to make him see reason. No touching. No staring at his chest. Nothing but business.

With a disdainful look around the trailer, she kicked the catalogues out of the way and stomped out, locking the door behind her. She walked across the narrow, rutted alley and then between the buildings into the alley where she and Ben…

No. No thoughts of
kissing
, either.

Gritting her teeth, she emerged on the sidewalk along Enterprise Street, unmindful of the handful of people who wandered around outside Christmas Crazies, which was having a 50 percent off sale. Not that she cared, but when Lola had dropped Blair off at the trailer a while ago, she had said something about popping in to check it out. She’d wanted Blair to tag along, but the last thing Blair wanted to do was pretend enthusiasm.

Not after yesterday. Yesterday her parade contest had been completely screwed and then to add insult to injury, this morning the town council had approved it. And approved the tattoo festival, even though they were on the same date. The council had only seen dollar signs, and after the meeting, Ivy had pulled her aside and told her to make it work. How? She’d wanted to ask that, but Blair had never been the type of employee to question her boss. So she’d just nodded.
Chicken.

But the rest of today would be different. She would find Ben and talk to him—if he wasn’t too hungover from party time with Starling and Grizz. Turning on her heel, she walked toward Skinnovations, but paused as she heard her name being called.

She swept her hair away from her face to peer down the block and went completely still. Ben walked toward her, and her carefully constructed thoughts of “all business” flew out of her mind.

He was gorgeous—from the ends of his shoulder-length hair to the tips of his scuffed boots. Everything in between made her heart speed up and her mouth go dry. Damn it, she should be furious with him. She was. She was mad as hell.

But as he approached, she raised her hand quickly in an awkward greeting and then glanced away, pretending to study the view across the street. The sidewalks bisecting the town commons shone with the rain that had fallen earlier, the trees were starting to bud, and sunlight glinted off the metal roof of the gazebo. If Blair had been even the least bit composed, she might have appreciated the freshness of the morning. Instead, she wished for sunglasses to hide what had to be crazy eyes.

“Hey,” Ben said, as he stopped next to her.

“Hi. What can I do for you?” she said briskly, allowing herself a quick, sweeping glance of his long legs and broad chest.

He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Nothing right now. Just wondering if you’re okay.”

She nodded. “Sure. It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal?
It was a huge deal.

“Yes it is,” he said softly. “I had no idea that Ink Fest had been moved. I would have told you. I hope you know that.”

Without warning, tears began to prick her eyes. “What was Grizz thinking? That Celebration’s Fourth of July parade contest didn’t matter?” She blinked rapidly.

“No. He didn’t even know you were planning one. Come on.” Ben’s warm hand circled around her elbow.

She allowed him to guide her across the street, onto the commons and up the steps of the gazebo.

He pulled her down next to him on a bench built into a side of the wooden structure. “I’m sorry if this is going to be a challenge, but it’s a done deal now, Blair. I just left city hall, and I have the permit for Ink Fest to be on the town commons.” He held up his hands. “I’ve been thinking about it—and don’t smack me—but this could really work out in your favor.”

She turned to stare at him, expecting his eyes to be glittering with amusement. They weren’t. They were warm and sweet and…she shook her head. “How?”

“Ink Fest is guaranteed to bring an extra thousand or more—hopefully more—people to town, which means more people watching the parade.”

“Ben, that sounds lovely in theory, but there’s no way.”

“Why not?”

There are these little things called emergency routes. For emergency vehicles. Even in a town as small as Celebration, they have to be clear.

She shook her head. “It’s just not possible. It’s too much to plan.”

He gazed at her. “So what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean, we? It’s not like I can
move
the Fourth of July.”

“You can’t harness time and space? Not even if you put it on that list of yours?”

She sighed. “This isn’t funny.”

Ben chuckled. “We’ll figure something out, Firefly. It’s all good.”

Figure something out? All good?

No it wasn’t. She didn’t know what made her seethe more, what he’d said or his tone—so easy, so maddeningly casual, that she almost jumped up and walked away from him. But she didn’t.

She gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.” And she would.

Ben’s grin faltered. “So…uh, how
is
that list coming along?”

“Oh, it’s complete crap. A disaster. I ought to throw it away,” she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

“You won’t.”

“Not a chance.”

A strong gust of wind rushed through the gazebo, blowing her hair across her face. As she reached up, Ben’s hand brushed hers out of the way, and he swept a strand behind her ear, his fingers briefly touching her cheek.

Her stomach jerked at the contact, and she looked away from him. This was crazy. Why was she still sitting here? She couldn’t encourage him—it was a very bad idea for lots of reasons, the most important being that he was the epitome of distraction. All she needed from Celebration was the means to get out of it.

“What are you thinking?” he asked in a low voice.

She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m too distracted to think.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He shifted on the bench and his knee nestled next to hers. “You distract me,” he said.

“Ben…” she began.

He chuckled. “I’m not your type, right?”

Nervously, she gathered up her hair, which still blew around her, and twisted it over a shoulder. “It’s not that.” She looked at him with what she hoped was an impassive face, and her stomach jumped all over again.

In a way, he was right. He wasn’t her type, was he? He looked so…dangerous sprawled next to her. His black T-shirt stretched over his chest and his hands splayed over his rock-solid stomach. The tattoos on his arms spread from wrist to carved biceps in an intricate swirl. For the first time, she really looked at them. “Pirate ships?”

He held out an arm. “Yeah. You like pirates?”

She envisioned him with super-tight leather pants and tall boots. Shirtless, his hair sweeping his shoulders while he strode down the deck of a ship. A smile crept to the corners of her mouth. “I have no opinion about pirates,” she said in a dry tone, hoping to mask her gut reaction.

“Okay.” He sat up and touched her arm. “So what is your type?”

“I don’t have a type,” she answered with a shrug. She didn’t. No guy she’d ever truly
wanted
had given her the time of day. So she’d dated guys who were convenient and safe, and that had never worked out very well. They’d been lacking. Boring. The opposite of Ben.

“Hmm.” The noise rumbled in his chest, and Blair had an almost uncontrollable urge to grab a fistful of his shirt and kiss him again. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap.

“Really, I don’t. And I apologize if I gave you the wrong signal the other day.” She looked down at her fingers, noticing that they were so tightly laced the nails were turning white.

“You mean when you kissed the hell out of me in the alley?”

She screwed her eyes shut. “Yes, that was unintended. I apologize.”

His burst of laughter made her head snap up. “Unintended?” He laughed again.

“It’s not funny,” she retorted. “You’re my assistant.”

“And you’re mine,” he said, possessively. At least she thought so, but maybe he was just annoyed. Or maybe she was hoping he’d meant to sound that way. In either case, this conversation was risky territory. She pried her fingers apart and stood up.

“So we agree that it’s a bad idea,” she said.

“What’s a bad idea?” He smiled up at her from the bench.

“Oh, come on, Ben. Do I have to spell it out?”

“No. I’d rather you do whatever comes naturally.” He got to his feet and leaned toward her. “And that’s never a bad idea,” he said in that rich, low voice.

She took a step back and folded her arms. “You know what’s a bad idea? Flirting with me.”

He mimicked her folded arms and leaned forward until his forehead almost touched hers. “It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time,” he said, his gaze steady.