Surrender of a Tattooist: Obsessive Dark Romance Alpha Bad Boy (Tattooist Series Book 2) (10 page)

Cliff couldn’t stop thinking about Pixie. He should have told her about Cara a long time ago. He knew why he hadn’t. It was his way of avoiding. He hadn’t wanted to dredge up the hurtful past or tell her what had happened, for fear she might wonder—as he did—what it was he had done to make Cara leave like she had.

The guy sitting in his chair whined, “Can it be fixed?”

Cliff gritted his teeth. “Dude, you put firming cream on healing skin. I think you need a dermatologist, not a tattoo artist.” He found himself thankful for the surveillance cameras that recorded every move and word in the front area of the shop. He might need that if this jerk decided to take him to court.

The guy shook his head. “I thought I was supposed to put lotion on it when it started drying out.”

“After it’s healed and no longer scabbing, but still has scabs, it
is
okay to put a little lotion on it to keep the skin from being dry and itchy. Firming cream is not lotion.”

“It totally is. I mean, I thought lotion was lotion; I had no idea it would do that.”

“Where did you get it?” Cliff was torn between slugging the guy and laughing at him. His emotions were way off-kilter and he knew that it was because he had sensed that something had gone really wrong while he was making love to Pixie. It was like she had suddenly checked out in the middle of it. Not physically, but up in her head, and that bothered him.

“I got it here.”

Cliff smothered his irritation. “Not the tat, the cream.”

“Oh. Um, out of my mom’s medicine cabinet.”

“That should’ve told you why you shouldn’t use it in the first place. At least you didn’t use hemorrhoid cream or something. It’s also infected; see those red stripes? You have to go to the ER. Like now. Let a doctor tell you what to do next, but I can’t do anything for you.”

“Crap! I paid a lotta money for this. Could you just stretch it out or something?”

He was about to lose all his patience. “No. Do yourself a major favor. Go to the ER before you lose the arm. Then go to a dermatologist and see what they can do. And the next time you get a tattoo, follow the directions you’re given.”

The guy stormed out. Cliff shook his head. There was no way to know if the kid was going to the ER or not. He should’ve been more professional. Too much distraction today was throwing his game off.

A few customers were standing nearby. One of them, a heavily-tattooed older man, chortled loudly. “He really put firming cream on that tat?”

Cliff ran a hand through his hair. “That’s what he said.”

The older guy shrugged. “Hell, I started getting them back in the seventies. We used to put Vaseline on them and go out surfing. We had no clue. But even then we knew better than that.”

Cliff eyed the man’s ink. “Is that…?” He got closer.  “Wow… that was tapped in.”

The man nodded. “Hell, yeah. Ink and knives. It’s one hell of a combination but it was worth it.”

The tattoo was fading now, but it was still incredibly lovely. It was of a woman, a lithe and beautiful woman with long hair and bare breasts.

The man looked down. “Hell, she’s still worth it.”

Cliff looked up. “Come again?”

“My wife. We met at a commune in the seventies, and we’ve been together ever since. I knew the day I decided to have her put on my skin I better mean forever, and I did.”

Forever.

That was what he wanted with Pixie.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wanted to be with Pixie for the rest of his life. He wanted to be standing somewhere decades from right now, looking at her and knowing that he still wanted her and that she was still worth it.

The man said, “She’s fading a bit. Think you can touch her up?”

“I’d be honored.” He examined the tat. The other customers milled about or were taken into rooms by the other artists on duty. The ones who were undecided looked nervous until Hayley, their piercer, came over and started chatting them up. She might get a sale or not, but Hawk paid her by the hour, plus gave her commissions on her work because she was so great with keeping customers from bolting if they thought the wait would be too long.

“It shouldn’t take long.”

The man nodded. “Good, because I’ve got to go see her later today.”

Cliff frowned. “Your wife?”

He nodded. “She’s at Westside Retirement. Alzheimer’s, you know. We did a lot of hard living, but we had no regrets.” He smiled again as he looked down at the tattoo.

Cliff said, “Well, today’s your lucky day. All touchups on that type of tat are free.”

The man smiled. “I’ll take it even though I know you’re full of shit.”

Cliff chuckled. “Yeah, I am. But it’s still on me. Come on.”

They headed into the room.

It was getting late and Cliff was exhausted. He was also trying to catch up the day’s paperwork, a chore he always hated, out at the front when Cara leaned in over the counter and asked, “Can I talk to you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

She sighed. “Look, I just want to clear the air between us.”

“I didn’t realize it needed to be cleared.”

She raised her perfectly-sculpted eyebrows. “Really?” She leaned closer. Her corset gaped open, revealing more of the creamy swell of her breasts. Her slender hands played with a lock of her blond hair and her eyes, rimmed in those sexy smudges of kohl, bored into his.

“Yes,” he said tightly, “Really.”

She bit her lips. “I just wanted to tell you why I left.”

“You’re about five years too late for that, Cara.”

She asked, “Am I? Because you’re…okay, maybe you aren’t openly hostile, but it’s obvious you’re mad at me.”

Was it? His lips pursed and he said, “Listen to me good, Cara; whatever I thought, it was a very long time ago. I let it go. I don’t know why you haven’t, but you should. I figured you had. We work together now, and that’s cool. I’m not angry with you. I’m not being hostile, contrary to what you might think. But we’re done. I don’t have to like you.”

“You don’t like me?” She pouted and he knew it was just part of her game.

“Maybe it’s your conscience poking at you, but it sure isn’t me. I don’t care why you left. You did, and it was a long time ago and, quite frankly, I’ve got a whole lot of other things in my life way more important to me than worrying about what possessed you to pack and bail like you did.”

She continued to pout. “I had my reasons.”

“Okay, cool. You had your reasons. I don’t feel like dredging them up or hearing them. So shut up already.”

Her face flared with heat. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“I did. I’m also telling you that you’re crossing some personal boundaries here. I mean it. Whatever you thought when you left, you chose to keep it to yourself. So keep it to yourself.”

“Well, I’ll say one thing for you. You’ve certainly learned how to be an asshole since we last met.”

He took a low breath. The air hissed into his lungs and out again. She was right about one thing. He
was
angry. He was angry that she’d walked back into his life, and he was angry at himself for wanting to hear whatever it was that she had to say.

He was pissed because she had picked now, of all times, to try to talk to him about the past. And he was really angry that, no matter what he said to the contrary, he
did
want to hear it.

It was too late to hear it, and all what she had to say might do was make sure he knew exactly what he had done to make her leave and make him second-guess everything he had with Pixie.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to have to try to navigate a relationship with a woman who was as different from Cara as the sun was different from the moon, but he knew that as soon as he heard what Cara had to say that was exactly what would happen.

He shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll say this for you. You’ve learned how to be an even bigger pain in my ass.”

Her face burned redder. Hurt surfaced on her features, making him feel like the world’s biggest jerk. He immediately regretted the words and wanted to take them back, but he couldn’t. If he did he would have to talk to her longer, and he didn’t want to do that either.

He’d not been able to trust a woman for a lot of years, thanks to Cara. He hadn’t been able to trust himself either. He didn’t need to go through that again. He didn’t need to relive the pain or the hurt or any of it.

He turned and walked off, leaving her standing there at the counter.

He closed his door but she came right through it anyway. Her chest heaved up and down in the skimpy corset. Her eyes blazed and she said, “All I wanted to say was that it wasn’t you. It was me. It was all me. “

“You can’t leave it alone, can you?” His words came out hard and fast, bullet-like, and he knew they would wound her but he couldn’t stop them from coming. “I said I didn’t want to hear it. That’s so classically you, Cara! You don’t give a shit about what anyone else wants; all you care about is what you want.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice shook. “I cared about what you wanted. That’s why I had to leave.”

“Are you out of your mind? I just told you I don’t care why you left! I just told you I didn’t want to hear it and you barged into my room to tell me anyway? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her lower lip trembled. “I need to tell you.”

“That’s what you need. Not what I want. The problem with you, Cara, is that you always assume that what you need is what everyone else wants, and you go full on at it and you just don’t stop to think. Ever. Your right to need something from me… It ends right where I start.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He was so damn pissed and frustrated. “You need to tell me? Tough shit! You don’t have the right to try to force me to listen just so you feel better. Life isn’t like that, damn it! I don’t have to stand here and let you have your closure or whatever the hell it is that you’re after. Because it isn’t what I want to do, and I have the right to say no to anything. I’m not a fucking high school kid in love with you anymore.”

“You’re really going to deny me closure?”

Really? Did this woman even listen? “Yes. Because you closed it, Cara, the day you fucking left. If you’d wanted closure you should have sat down and talked to me then, or right after. Or even a year after. You don’t get to prance up in here five years later and demand that I hear you out because it’s what you need. What part of that don’t you understand?”

Tears flooded down her face. “I just need…”

“I don’t care what you need.”

Fuck! He was being such an asshole! It was the last thing he wanted to be. But jerk or no, what he was saying was exactly right. She didn’t get to demand that he hear her out just because she needed him to. She’d crossed a line, but that was so like her. She always crossed every line she saw, and she never thought about the consequences or how her actions would affect other people.

The worst part about it was that earlier in the day he’d been thinking that she had never told him why, and that that was the thing that hurt the worst.

He’d been wrong; her walking into his room after he had closed the door without so much as a knock, and demanding that he let her tell him the why was what really hurt. She wanted closure and she was determined to have it, and she just didn’t care if it hurt him.

She didn’t care if she hurt him. She hadn’t cared then and she didn’t care now.

How could anyone be so damn callous?

Hawk spoke from the doorway, his voice low and deadly. “That’s it. Cara, pack your shit. I’m not having this. Thank God there wasn’t a customer in here just now. All I need is for the word that I’ve got two artists fighting over some old drama to hit the streets.”

Cliff waited for her to turn to Hawk and give him some line that would keep her there. She didn’t. She just said, “I’ll go. You’re right, and I’m sorry. Working here was a mistake. Keep my rate—it’s in the drawer. Call it rent for the room.”

Hawk’s jaw tightened. “You’ll get your cut. I don’t do business like that.”

Cliff ran his hands through his hair. Once upon a time he had loved her so very much; he would have fallen for her tears and wanted nothing more than to make sure she had exactly what she needed. Now…now he felt nothing but a soft and dim pity.

He didn’t know what had happened in the years since he had seen her, but one thing hadn’t: She hadn’t grown up, not at all. She hadn’t matured at all. Under the kohl and lipstick, the corsets and tats, she was the same girl he’d met at his parents’ grocery store so many years ago. Hurting and hurtful, confused and needy and clinging, but determined to be independent. A huge bundle of contradictions he’d lost the desire to try to unravel.

She walked past Hawk. Hawk watched her go and turned to Cliff. His eyes held steel.

Cliff said, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know that. I heard the whole thing—or at least from the minute she stepped into here and you started shouting at each other. If I thought it was your fault, you’d be the one on the bricks.”

Cliff sighed. “I don’t know why she needs to tell me so badly.”

“Maybe she wants to atone or apologize, or who knows? I don’t, and I don’t care. I do care that I have a serious amount of hourly work about to walk through that door, and if the books are right so do you. Pull your shit together; we don’t do shaky-handed tats here.”

Cliff looked down. His hands were indeed shaking. He inhaled and steadied his fingers and hands. The trembling in his fingers stopped and his breath came easier.

He heard Cara in the room next door, packing up her kit. It wasn’t right. They needed her there and he knew it. Hawk was losing money by letting her go, and while he really didn’t care at all if Cara was doing okay financially, he cared whether or not the shop was. Hawk was his friend, and the shop was where he made his money too.

He sighed. “Fuck it; let her stay. I still don’t want to hear what she has to say, though.”

Hawk’s eyes held his. “Cara, get in here.”

She came. Her eyeliner was slightly smudged and her lipstick had been gnawed away to reveal the pale lips below. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked as stunned as Cliff felt.

“Yeah?”

“Cliff doesn’t care if you stay. Do you want to?”

She bit her lips and looked at her booted feet. “I came back to work here so, yeah. I just…” She swallowed hard. “I just wanted to apologize and I went too far. You’re right, it doesn’t matter how much I want to tell you what happened if you don’t want to hear it.”

Damn it. She was still trying to manipulate him. Two could play that game. He threw his hands in the air. “Spill it then. I’ve got a customer coming in and the evening rush will start soon.”

She looked startled. Then she looked at Hawk and back at him. “Um…now?”

Cliff tapped a finger on his upper thigh. “Yes, right now. Say it right now or never bring it up again. Scratch that… say it now and we’ll never talk about it ever again.’

“It’s not that simple.”

He saw red. “Everything that old is pretty simple.”

Her eyes went back to Hawk. “Can we talk in private?”

“No, it’s his shop and if we’re both going to work here he’s going to be here for this.”

There. Served them both right. Hawk never should have hired her without talking to him anyway, and they both knew it.

“Seriously?” She stared at Cliff and then stared up at the ceiling a moment. “Fine. I got scared. That’s all it was. I mean, I’m a woman competing in a man’s world and you were so good, beyond talented. There was that contest, remember, the one that had the ten-grand prize? All of a sudden we were enemies.”

He gawked at her. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She shook her head, “No, I’m not. The whole time leading up to it there was a lot of tension between us. I mean, we were already competing for space at shops, and every time we walked in together you came out with the internship or the job and I had to keep looking.” She traced a tat on her arm without even realizing she was doing it. “I’m a woman in a man’s world, like it or not. I wanted to win that contest and I knew you did too. It was the answer to a lot of our money problems, but the whole day I kept wondering if I should hold back because if I won there’d be some kind of pride issue with you. Then I wondered if you were holding back too because you knew how much it meant to me, and if you were we could both lose. Then I looked over and you were going balls-out and I knew…I just knew that no matter what you weren’t going to throw it.”

“Of course not.”

“Well, I wanted to beat you. I had to. So I did. Then afterward we went to the bar, remember? And you barely talked to me.”

Cliff was so astounded he couldn’t even think. “Cara, I didn’t talk much because it was your night. You beat out hundreds of artists. You’d won, and you deserved to win, and I wanted to give you time to just enjoy that win. I had no idea that you thought any of that. I don’t even know why you’d think that.”

She looked from him to Hawk. “Of course you don’t. You’re a guy. You’re what people expect. You don’t have to worry that people are going to come into the shop and go straight for the dude you’re better than.”

“That’s not true.” Cliff said the words but didn’t quite believe them. She had a point.

“You don’t have to insist on leaving your door open just in case the guy you’re working on decides to grab you, or worse. You don’t have to worry that no matter how good you are; the shop owner you’re talking to isn’t going to hire you. I don’t have a penis, you see, and after that contest maybe I got that in a way I hadn’t before.”

“I didn’t know—” Cliff started but she cut him off.

“And whether you want to admit it or not, you know there were times when it should have been me and not you. You’re great, better than ninety-nine percent of the artists out there working, but you aren’t better than me. Most of the men who get hired while I’m struggling to find a chair to work out of aren’t better than me.”