Out of the Ashes
Out of the Ashes
https://amzn.to/2w4lEd6
Keren Hughes
Prologue
The ink is dry. The decree absolute makes it final. The smile on my face says it all. Stanley Eugene Mason is out of my life once and for all. I changed my name by deed poll the moment the divorce papers got served. I no longer want any association with that man and that includes his name.
Going by my maiden name now makes me smile every time I think about it.
What’s in a name? It's just letters, right? But his boring name was also a reflection of his personality. He’d told me when we met that his name was Lee. Even he’d been loath to tell me his full name.
I pawned my engagement ring and my wedding band, not because I needed the money, but because I didn't know what else to do with them. It turned out that they weren’t worth much. Typical of my entire marriage. Turns out I wasn’t even worth a real diamond. The jeweller looked up at me over her horn-rimmed glasses and flashed me a sad smile as she told me it was a cubic zirconia.
I’m not a materialistic person by any means. But doesn’t every woman think she’s worth a decent engagement ring? It’s meant to symbolise the love between the couple. Instead this symbolised my cheap-ass ex who had only forked out for a gold-plated ring with a stone worth little more than if it had been a prize inside a Kinder Egg.
My wedding band had been bland. Just a plain, gold-plated band. I wasn’t even worth nine-carat gold, which isn't exactly expensive.
“Lee” had a friend who worked in the jewellery business and said he’d asked for only the best for the woman he loved. But that ended up being a lie, just like our marriage vows.
Lord help the woman he’s with now. I actually feel sorry for her. Not only is she lumbered with a man so boring he could be compared to watching paint dry, she’s with someone as cheap as those knock-off designer suits he wears.
I look at my beautiful house and smile. I finally have something that belongs only to me. Something he couldn’t take in the divorce because I didn’t sign on the dotted line until the divorce was final.
Two months ago, I moved into this place with only a few meagre belongings to my name. I didn't want anything more when I walked away from the marriage than when I had entered it. I took only what was my own. I gladly let him have everything else, even though the grounds for divorce was that he’d cheated on me and that made me entitled to more than I got.
Miss Perfect Tits, as I affectionately call her, is the latest in a long line of women he saw behind my back. What they all saw in him, I really don’t know. Any trace of what I saw in him disappeared the moment I found him in bed with some blonde with an inflated chest. He’d thought I was at work. Like that was an excuse to bring some whore to our marital bed. So yeah, I’d let him take everything, especially the bed.
Now here I am, alone and starting over. But it doesn’t scare me the way I thought it would. Instead I’m delighted to have my own space. I have room to breathe, unlike when I was being suffocated by my marriage. When I left, the day I’d found him with Miss Bottle Blonde, I looked around at the beautiful house we called home and it no longer looked like somewhere I remembered. When you leave someone, you can’t erase your memories and you can’t burn the whole place down. But you can move on. It was onwards and upwards for me from then on.
Here, in this new place I call home, I am no longer surrounded by things that remind me of my delightful ex-husband. There’s no wedding photo on the mantelpiece, happy smiling faces beaming at everyone. There are no belongings that we bought together, things that I had once thought meant something to us both. No, I left all that shit behind for him to do with as he pleased. I no longer want anything that is tainted with memories I’m trying my hardest to forget.
It's funny how “things” hold memories. Gifts you bought one another, items you picked out for your first home together. All of those things and more. They were contaminated the moment I saw Miss Bottle Blonde grinding her hips and moaning as her orgasm coated his cock. Jeez, what a thought. Now I look back and wonder if I ever really had an orgasm with him. Did I always fake it? Even the memories in my head became contaminated, an infection spread through them, tainting them all one by one.
At least here I am free to discover what truly makes me tick. I may not be able to forget my marriage, but I’m telling myself it was a learning curve. I remember all the good, the bad and the ugly because I don’t want my future to be the same old crap as my past. I want more for myself than a boring man, with a boring name and a tendency to fuck anything that moves.
“Lee” was a good man. He treated me like I was the only woman alive. He made me feel special. But once Stanley showed his true colours, Lee became but a distant memory.
I’m sitting at the kitchen island, drinking an iced coffee I grabbed from Starbucks on my way home. I almost want to frame my decree absolute, but instead I tuck it away in a drawer full of paperwork. I want to make something of my life now. I don’t know what, but having a blank canvas gives me the ability to be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to do. So, I better get to thinking.
Grams left me this house in her will, along with an inheritance. So, I’m going to make a fresh start in a house I loved as I grew up. Where do I start?
Chapter One
Jenna
I’m nervously anticipating something I’ve wanted to do for years but have never had the courage to go through with. In fact, my ex, Stanley, was adamant that he wouldn’t allow me to go through with it, he even threatened divorce if I did. That goes to show how much of a prick he was. I just wish I’d learned that lesson sooner.
Why am I so nervous? I should be excited; there’s something freeing about being a single, independent woman, allowed to do whatever the hell she wants with her own body. What was I thinking when I decided to come alone? I should have had my friend, and assistant at the florist shop I own, Brogan come with me and hold my hand. I’ve always been a bit scared of needles, and here I am waiting to get not only a navel piercing, but a tattoo as well. I take a couple of deep breaths and mentally shake myself. No one can tell me what to do anymore; this is my life and I am going to get on with it the way I see fit.
“Jenna, Nate will see you now,” the receptionist with quirky rainbow-coloured hair says.
I stand and follow her to a room down a small corridor. She opens the door for me and steps back.
“Take a seat. Nate will only be a minute,” she says with a bright smile as I enter the room.
I look around as she leaves and closes the door behind her. There’s art on the walls and it’s as eclectic in style as the rest of Blank Canvas. There are some gorgeous drawings that look like tattoos Nate or someone working here may have done before, and then there are canvases dotted around that depict a mishmash of things.
Realising I need to pee, I walk to the door and open it a crack, looking up and down the corridor to see if there’s anyone around who can point me in the right direction. It’s empty, so I walk to the far end, knowing that the toilets weren’t anywhere in between the reception and the room the spunky young girl showed me to.
Seeing the toilets set at the very back of the shop, I enter and lock the door. Making sure to wash my hands, I check my makeup and hair in the mirror before walking back to the room for my tattoo.
Once I’m back in the corridor, I realise I didn’t count how many rooms were between mine and the toilet. Damn! I’m sure Nate is waiting impatiently for me to return. I open the door to my left and it takes my mind a moment to register what I have walked into.
There’s a man in a chair, and he’s got to have the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life—not hard when you consider Stanley was nothing but a little prick, pun fully intended—and he’s having it pierced. Not once, not twice, I can’t even count how many piercings line this guy’s privates. I feel my face blush red with embarrassment at having walked in on this guy, and, in that moment, he looks at me. He throws me a casual smirk before focusing his attention back on the blue-haired woman doing the piercing.
I can’t even begin to imagine how much the actual piercing hurts, but what worries me most is how it must feel for the woman in his life. Or guy, I guess. I don’t know his sexual orientation. But damn if it doesn’t give me phantom pains between my legs. I feel my private parts clench in silent protest. I could never sleep with a guy who had that many piercings. Yes, I slept with a guy before Stanley who had a ring in the end of his cock, but that was different. It was one piercing, not multiple.
“It’s called a Jacob’s Ladder,” a deep, sensual voice whispers in my ear, causing me to simultaneously break out in goosebumps and jump out of my skin.
I can’t take my eyes off the piercing going on in front of me, but that voice has me curious as to what its owner looks like. Mentally shaking myself, I pull my eyes away and turn to the guy behind me. I’m met with the most stunning blue-green gaze and I find I want to get lost in those eyes. They twinkle with mirth. I mean, he did just catch me staring at a guy’s cock. I may have even been drooling for all I know.
“I’m Nate, your tattooist,” he says in that sinfully seductive voice.
“Jenna.”
My voice betrays me by squeaking out my name in an unladylike way. Not the best way to impress the guy. Not that I should want to impress him, but damn if looking him over doesn’t make my ovaries want to spontaneously combust. He is the hottest guy I ever remember laying eyes on.
“Well, Jenna, it would appear you are in the wrong room; follow me,” he says as he turns on his heel and walks off towards the door to his room.
I follow him, making sure to quietly close the door behind me as I make a hasty retreat.
Once I am back in the room I started off in, I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived.
“Don’t worry; it happens all the time. Walking into the wrong room, that is. Plus, I’m sure the guy didn’t mind being watched. And he did know you were watching. I saw him smirk at you. Don’t mind him though; he’s harmless. He’s always in here getting a new piercing or tattoo.”
So much for not having to mention it. I feel myself heat as I blush for the second time in a short space of time. Nate smiles as the colour tinges my skin. His eyes are twinkling again, and I can’t help feeling hypnotised. He really is handsome. Now I have the time to look him over properly, I can see he’s at least six feet tall, has sleeves of tattoos down both arms, and damn if those arms don’t look like they could squeeze me deliciously. His dark brown hair is tousled, and it looks like he’s been raking a hand through it. Probably while waiting for me to hurry my ass up.
“Sit down. I won’t bite,” he says and chuckles at me as I walk to the leather chair in front of him.
Looking at his hands, I see yet more ink and I find myself wondering if I’ll be able to sit still throughout this tattoo. I didn’t know the guy who would have his hands on me would be this hot. Damn it, why does he have to have the most panty-melting smile known to man…or woman?!
I sit down, and Nate begins to pour ink into little pots beside him. I’ve never been into a tattoo shop before, I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t whatever this is. The sparks I can feel coming off him. That’s not natural. I never felt any sparks with my ex. My friends talk about sexual chemistry and, although I’m by far no virgin, I have never felt a chemistry like this. It’s like an electrical storm, gathering energy all around me, zapping me with high-wattage currents. I have to clench my legs to quell the feelings there. I hope Nate doesn’t notice. But what I wouldn’t give to have him feel the same way.
He’s a virtual stranger, albeit a handsome one. Why am I lusting after someone who I know nothing about, except his name and the fact that he has a sinfully sexy voice and a body carved of marble—or what I can see of it, at least.
His arms are muscular and tattooed. He has so many tattoos it’s hard to focus on just one. But his ink isn’t what I’m attracted to—well, it might be in part—it’s him as a whole. He’s nothing to me, but he makes me feel like a giddy teenager with her first crush.
Looking up at me, he flashes me a megawatt grin and I see he has a perfect “Hollywood” smile. There’s something more though. It’s in his eyes. I can’t name it. Is it lust? What I feel can’t be mutual, surely?!
“Ready?” Nate asks, startling me.
“Umm…” I ponder it for a moment before nodding.
“Then let’s get this stencil in place so you can be sure you like the positioning.”
“Oh, umm…”
I thought he was ready to begin tattooing me already. I’ve totally forgotten about the design. To tell the truth, I’d probably let him tattoo whatever the hell he liked on me.
Taking my sweater off, I reveal the tank top I’m wearing underneath. Noticing where Nate’s gaze is, I quickly realise I pulled up the tank as well as the sweater, baring my skin to him. I’m almost embarrassed, because not many men have seen so much of me. But considering a few moments ago when my face must have betrayed my embarrassment at seeing the guy with all the piercings, I’m sure I couldn’t blush much harder.
His hands are soft as he applies the stencil, pressing all over to make sure the ink is left on my skin. I find myself imagining what those hands would feel like if he was touching me somewhere lower.
“This is big for a first tattoo; you’re braver than some who come in here,” Nate says as he steps back to check the design looks right. “Check it out in the mirror and, if you’re happy, we’ll begin.”
Admiring the beauty of the piece on my right shoulder, I smile. This tattoo represents my freedom and my rebirth into the woman I was meant to be but, wasn’t ever allowed to be. I can just see it when Nate has finished—the fiery oranges, the bold yellows and reds that will replace the simple lines of the initial drawing. I smile, and Nate flashes me a salacious grin as he sits down next to me.
“Shall we begin?” he asks as he pulls on a pair of latex gloves.
I momentarily feel deflated, knowing that his skin won’t be pressed against mine. Smiling, I adjust my sitting position a little and get comfortable. This is going to take around four hours according to the person I spoke to when I booked myself in. I was nervous then, but now I know that it’s Nate that will be doing the tattoo, I feel better. I feel shy and yet somehow relaxed in his company. He seems to have an aura of peace around him. That seems kind of at odds with how imposing and beautiful he is but seems to fit perfectly at the same time.
As the needle is pressed to my skin, I suck in a sharp breath, bracing myself for the pain. But when it doesn’t come, I relax and enjoy the feeling in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Nate looks happy, like this is something he was born to do. And maybe he was. I know nothing about him. Not that I would mind getting to know him better, in more ways than one.
“So, Nate, how long have you worked here?” I find myself asking, wanting to know more about the alluring man with his hands on me.
“I’ve been here for about eight years now. I found this place empty and knew without a doubt it was perfect for my vision. I started working at Tattoo Envy when I was eighteen and just an apprentice. I honed my craft until I felt I was ready to open my own place when I was around twenty-eight. To be honest, I would have started out on my own before then, but I really loved the staff that had become like a family to me. I didn’t want to leave them. But they urged me to spread my wings and that’s when I started Blank Canvas. I had learned the business side of things from Hannah, the woman that owned Tattoo Envy, and so I had all the necessary skills to start this place. I just didn’t know if it would take off. I’m glad it did though.”
I hadn’t been expecting him to divulge so much information and, as he realised this himself, he apologised for oversharing. Smiling at him, I told him apologies weren’t necessary.
“Is there a story behind this?” he asks as he nods his head at where the wings are starting to really take shape.
“You know what they say about rising from the ashes,” I start. “Well, I guess it’s true. I’m making my fresh start. I should have done it a long time ago, but I didn’t possess the courage. Or at least I didn’t think I did. This tattoo represents me being stronger than I ever knew. I guess you could say the ashes and flames of the design represent Lee, my ex-husband. And the phoenix is me, rising from the past to a beautiful new future.”
There, I’d overshared in reciprocation. Though I didn’t admit Lee’s real name wasn’t in fact Lee, or Douchebag, or Cheating Asshole, or Serial Shagger. No, I’d kept that information to myself. Stanley Eugene “Douchebag” Mason was a part of my past I’d rather not discuss with the hot, muscular, tattooed guy with his hands on me. He’s not a therapist after all, just your run of the mill tattooist. Though I’m not sure anything about Nate could be classed as “run of the mill”.
“I know the feeling. And to think I almost married her. Thank goodness for small mercies.”
His statement has me curious, but his gaze collides with mine and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush. There’s something like hunger in his gaze as his eyes roam over me. I cannot get entangled with any man, much less this incredibly hot specimen. I’ll end up hurt and my heart can’t take any more right now. I can sure dream about the hot guy who took my virginity though—ink virginity, that is.
My best friend, Brogan, has told me I have what she calls “virgin skin”. I laughed at the notion, but I guess it’s true.
“I did marry mine,” I reply after a pause. “I was young and naïve. There’s no chance of me making that mistake again. Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me too. I couldn’t stick around for him to hurt me again. There are only so many chances you can give a person and, while I’m a believer in second chances, I don’t believe in twenty-second chances, you know?!”
Nate looks at me with something akin to pity in his gaze, but all traces of that vanish when he looks me square in the eye.
“I’m sorry he hurt you. I may not know who he is or what he did, but I do know if I had a woman like you, I wouldn’t want to hurt her for the world.”
My blood begins to sing in my veins and my heart beats faster at the sincere tone in his voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d make a play for him, let him know I was his to do with as he pleased. But sadly, I know better. I know that so many relationships end in bitter resentment. And I’m too old to want to “hook up” as the kids call it these days. I’m not interested in one-night stands or anything casual. But sadly, I’m also not interested in trying for anything more serious either.
Brogan would tell me to go for it. To make a move, be bold and just see where it takes me. But then, she’s a fair bit younger than me and hasn’t been married, let alone found her husband in bed with another woman. She says you never get anywhere in life if you don’t take a risk here and there. But I’d rather stay risk free and pain free too.
Nate and I make small talk as he continues with my tattoo. I close my eyes every so often as he brushes my skin, and it causes me to stifle a moan. He flirts with me, but I’m guessing that’s one way of getting repeat custom from women. Flirt and they’ll fall all over themselves for you. Well, not me. Although mental images assault me and tempt me with their soft allure.
When Nate clears his throat, it’s clear I was too lost in those mental images to notice he had finished the tattoo.
“Oh, Nate,” I gasp as I gaze down at my shoulder. It’s no longer bare. Now there is a stunning phoenix rising from the flames. I can’t wait for it to be healed, so I can walk around proudly with this reminder on my skin. I am the phoenix, and I fully intend to rise from everything Lee turned to ash.
“Stand up and get a better look in the mirror, then I’ll wrap it for you before giving you the aftercare instructions.”
I do as he says and look at the glorious ink in the mirror. I was right—the fiery oranges, bold yellows and reds, they mix to make the most amazing artwork I have ever seen. The graceful bird rises from the ashes and flames around her as she soars above it all. I gasp in astonishment and appreciation.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
“Truly stunning,” Nate replies, and I get an inkling he’s talking about more than just his artwork as his gaze looks appreciatively over me.
Goosebumps break out on my skin again as he comes to wrap the tattoo for me. It feels like the first time he’s touched my body, and yet it feels intimate and familiar at the same time. I really must get these kinds of thoughts out of my head.
“If you want to follow me, I’ll take you to Steph, the lady who’s going to do your piercing,” Nate says as he walks towards the door.
He stops short of opening the door and turns to face me. I stumble as I didn’t realise he was going to stop. With strong arms, Nate catches me before I face-plant the floor like a total idiot. Instead of letting me go, he looks down at me and roots me to the spot with just one look. His strong hands hold my hips, and his handsome, strong jaw dips towards me. I have only a moment to register what he’s asking without words. I nod infinitesimally and brace myself as his soft full lips close over mine.
My senses are on overload as Nate’s kiss sets me on fire. He licks at the seam of my mouth, seeking access to kiss me more deeply. For once, I go with my heart instead of my head, and I open my mouth to allow him to explore with his tongue. Our tongues dance together, and Nate’s hands play with the hem of the tank top I’m wearing, making me shiver in the most delicious way. Maybe I didn’t imagine the chemistry after all. A feeling I’ve never experienced before works its way up my spine as I allow him to take all I have to give in this one kiss—a kiss that sets a trail ablaze, searing its way across my heart and soul.
Chapter Two
Nate
Fuck! I don’t know what I was thinking. Kissing a customer could get me in all sorts of hot water. I have a feeling she wouldn’t report me for sexual harassment, but that feeling is more one of hope rather than based on actual facts.
She kissed me just as fervently as I kissed her. Those soft, full lips felt amazing as she opened her mouth to let me explore. Little tingles of electricity ran up and down my spine. The only thing that stopped me kissing her was Steph knocking on the door. She’d come to see how far along with the tattoo we were, as she had to pierce Jenna’s navel at some point.
Jenna followed Steph down the corridor, and I was left to my own devices. I had another client booked in but needed a few minutes to gather myself first.
The women round here see me as a bad boy. A total player. Whilst that isn’t true, I haven’t done much to try and dispel the rumours. It doesn’t hurt me to have them thinking whatever they like about me. I’m not looking for love, so it doesn’t really affect me. Or it didn’t. Until today. It’s not like I’m wanting to run off and marry Jenna, but fuck if I didn’t want her. My cock had been straining to be freed from the moment her lips seared mine in a kiss so passionate, so hungry it was like she was on death row and I was her last meal.
It took ten minutes for me to finally calm down enough to start my next client’s tattoo. Ten minutes of scrubbing my hands over my face, tugging my hair, pacing the length of my room. Ten minutes of wanting to rip open the door, race down the corridor to Steph’s room and see if they were done. I don’t know what would have happened if I had done that. She’d looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. She was skittish. After a kiss so deep my soul felt it, she was nervous enough to run behind Steph the second the door was open.
Something told me that as much as she’d wanted that kiss, she had also done everything possible to keep it from happening. Well, not quite everything as it had happened. But I knew she’d thought about it and was at war with herself over it. I don’t know how I knew; I just had a feeling that was the case.
I’d let her run off without so much as a glance over her shoulder, and I hadn’t gone after her. But now I’m regretting that decision because she’s gone, and I have no way of contacting her. I don’t even know her surname. There’s no way to look her up. I looked through the shop’s diary to see if she’d left a mobile number, but she hadn’t. That was unusual as our receptionist normally asks for one from every client. But I didn’t bother to question it. I just felt deflated as I walked back to my room to clean everything down before we closed.
Spraying the leather seat she’d been sitting on makes me think of her. I close my eyes and see her there. Such a gorgeous creamy expanse of skin. I only wished I hadn’t been wearing gloves so that I could have touched her properly. Damn hygiene rules! But no matter whether the gloves stopped me feeling her skin, they didn’t stop me from feeling the electricity that buzzed through my veins with every stroke I made. I feel it hum in my veins as I stand here with my eyes closed.
My grandfather would kick my ass and tell me to hunt her down, no matter what it took. He would no doubt say that any girl that makes you feel that way is one worth pursuing. He and my grandmother had such a beautiful relationship and had no problem with public displays of affection. They taught me what real love looks like. My grandmother’s death hit him hard. It hit both of us hard, but my grandfather has become a shell of his former self since she passed. He seems hollow and haunted every time I visit now. The smile he had permanently etched on his face when she was alive no longer touches his eyes and makes them sparkle. He’s lost that vitality. It makes me sad to think about how much he’s lost.
My grandmother was one of the most amazing women I have ever known. She and Gramps took me in when my parents died many years ago. They had been the best parental figures I could wish for after my real parents. I don’t have many memories of my mum and dad these days, just some old photos and stuff that was kept in the attic for me. My grandmother had made a memory box full of things from my childhood and as many things of my parents as she could. It’s painful to look through it, but it’s a welcome pain. It means I can still feel.
It hit me like an articulated lorry when my parents died. My life had been turned inside out, upside down and left in chaos. My grandparents took me in and were there for me when I had nightmares or wet the bed. They were the ones that soothed all my aches and pains, but I can’t do the same thing for Gramps now, and that kills me.
I finish cleaning down my room and turn out the light. I’ll pay Gramps a visit tonight. I’ll even swing by and grab him takeaway from his favourite restaurant. He’ll be happy to have real food compared to the slop they feed him at the home. Or at least that’s what he calls it. I’m sure it’s fine really, but he always moans that, no matter what he has to eat, it all tastes like the same crap. His words, not mine.
Closing the door behind me, I walk down the corridor to the front of the shop. Star, our receptionist, is just logging off her computer as I come up behind the counter.
“Hey, boss,” she says in that effervescent way of hers.
“Hey, Star.”
“You all finished up? Seems like everyone else has gone for the evening.”
“Yep. Just off to The Steakhouse to grab Gramps a T-bone.”
“That’s so sweet. You have a good night, boss,” she says as she grabs her coat and slips into it.
“You too, Star. See you tomorrow.”
I walk to the parking lot after locking up. My shiny black Miata MX-5 is waiting for me. I hop in and start the engine. She purrs like a kitten and I smile as I remember the last time I took Gramps out in her. He said that it was a good job my grandma wasn’t alive when I bought her, else she would have had a heart attack. She would’ve preferred me to drive something more “safe looking” according to Gramps. I told him that she was perfectly safe, and I had taken him on a ride out to prove my point. He’d fallen in love with my baby but said Grandma would have had kittens if I’d taken her out in it.
Laughing at the memory, I pull out of the car park and head for The Steakhouse. Prime T-bone steak with fat chips, mushrooms, and onion rings, with horseradish sauce, that was the order of the day. Gramps would cheer up a bit if I provided him with his contraband—you’re not supposed to smuggle food in to the patients at the home, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
The question is, do I tell him about Jenna and wait for him to impart me with a pearl of wisdom? It might do him good to think his grandson is interested in a woman after all this time. My ex put me off women for the longest time and although my reputation precedes me and labels me a player that couldn’t be further from the truth. There actually hasn’t been anybody since her. My heart wasn’t in the right place for anything with anyone. My grandma had died at around the same time, so I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for finding love when my Gramps had lost the love of his life. And she was his life. They had done everything together. They’d been together since they were sixteen and had a good, long life together before she passed. Lillian Peterson had been the life and soul of the party. Everybody naturally gravitated towards her. There was just something about her that everyone loved. My gramps especially.
He said the day he’d met her was the day he knew he was going to marry her. She’d come into his life like a gift from god. Gramps believed she’d been put in his path for a reason and they’d gone on to marry, then had a baby a couple of years later. He was their only child and I was their only grandchild. I had no other family to speak of which is why they’d been the ones to take me in when my parents died, even though they weren’t getting any younger and having an eight-year-old running them ragged must have been hard at times. But they never complained. They showered me with love and affection on a daily basis. Loving them had been so easy. The two of them were so special to me. Which is one of the reasons I had gone off the rails when my grandma died.
Heading into The Steakhouse, the owner sees me and walks to greet me.
“Nate, the usual is it?” he asks as he walks with me to the counter.
“Yep. I’m off to see the old man and I’m assuming that the food he was given this evening wasn’t up to his standards and he probably refused to eat it, the stubborn old git.”
Devin laughs as the guy behind the takeaway counter comes to take my order.
“He’s stubborn alright. Please pass on my regards. It’s been a while since we saw him. Do you think you’ll be able to sneak him out of there anytime soon to come and have a proper meal with us?”
“I’m not sure, Dev. It’s like trying to break out of prison. You’d think they’d let me take him out, being his grandson and all. But they say he needs twenty-four seven care and they seem to think he’d wander off if it was just the two of us.”
“That he might, lad. Dementia is a hard thing to deal with. I’m sure they don’t mean any offence in thinking you can’t look after him. They just mean that it’s possible he’ll get confused and end up giving you the slip.”
Devin must see the hard look in my eyes because he holds his palms up and gives me a small smile.
“I didn’t mean any offence, Nate. Your gramps, he’s a great guy. But the dementia does things to his mind, you know this. I’m not saying you wouldn’t keep careful watch over him. But what if you did something as simple as went to the toilet? You couldn’t take him with you. You’d be gone for all of sixty seconds maybe. But that’s enough time for him to wander off.”
“I guess. Sorry, Dev. I just get a bit … well, a bit touchy when it comes to him. Call me overprotective and sensitive. Okay, looking at me you wouldn’t think I’m so soft at heart. I look like a hard-ass guy who couldn’t give a fuck. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love the bones of my gramps. I would give anything to take him out of the home, even if only for an hour. I’d drive us around, and he wouldn’t have chance to give me the slip. I’d take him cruising around the city he loves so much. But no. Rules are rules. Hence why I’m sneaking him this contraband tonight. They can stick that particular rule where the sun doesn’t shine!”
The server hands me the bag of containers and I hand over the cash. Devin walks me to the door, apologising again for any offence caused and I tell him to forget about it.
Climbing into my car, I set the takeaway bag on the passenger seat and bring the engine to life. I drive out of the car park and onto the main road, the one that leads me to Haven Lodge Residential Home.
***
Gramps is sitting in his chair facing out of the window when I arrive. He startles when he sees me in the reflection.
“Daniel, how good to see you son. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had, and I haven’t seen your mother all day. I don’t know where she’s got to.”
“It’s Nate, Gramps. I brought you a steak.”
A look ghosts across his face and I wish I’d played along and said I was my dad. Sometimes it’s easier, and I don’t like the thought of bursting his bubble. But sometimes I just want him to remember it’s me.
“Oh, Nathaniel, sorry, I thought you were your father. A steak, you say? It better be a T-bone!”
His face lights up as I place the bag on the table and begin to unpack its contents. I grab plates from the cupboard and cutlery from the drawer. He’s not supposed to have them in here, but I keep them hidden from the staff. Or at least I think I do. They haven’t said anything about them, yet.
“Damn, Nathaniel. I forgot how good a steak tastes,” he says around a mouthful of medium-well steak.
“It’s good, right, Gramps?” I reply as I tuck into my own.
We don’t talk much as we devour our meals. Gramps’s eyes are set alight as he enjoys every morsel. Comfortable silence has settled around us and I don’t know what to say for fear of setting him off this late in the evening. It only takes the slightest thing sometimes, and you never know when those times are going to be. I guess Devin was right about taking him out of the home, even for an hour. So much has the possibility of going wrong. That doesn’t mean I have to like their rules, but I know that Gramps isn’t going to get better. Eventually, the dementia will get worse, and instead of having days where he remembers who I am, I’ll be lost to him forever. So, I intend to make the very most of however long we have before that happens. And even when it does happen, I’ll still come to visit. Even if it means pretending to be my dad. As much as that will hurt me to imitate my dead father.
“I met a girl,” I say as I watch for his reaction.
His eyes twinkle and he smiles a mile wide. Boy I’ve missed that smile. It’s been too long.
“Tell me more, boy. Don’t miss out a single detail. I want to know everything,” he says, coercing me into spilling the beans about Jenna, even if there’s not that much to tell.
***
As I leave Haven Lodge, I smile to myself. Gramps was as much like his old self as he could’ve been, other than initially mistaking me for my father. I don’t have many memories of my parents, only photographs and the stories Gramps tells in his lucid times.
I know I look like my father though. I see it every time I look at my parents’ wedding photo. I have his eyes, my mum’s nose … It’s like looking in a mirror only now I’m looking at a ghost.
Gramps told me he thought I should do everything I could to track this girl down. He said that for all I know, she could be “the one”. I didn’t tell him I don’t believe in “the one”. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. But our conversation did light a fire in me. I want to find out more about this girl, this woman. Jenna. How the hell do I go about finding out though? We didn’t have a number listed for her, and the only thing I know is that she lives locally. I decide to ask Steph at work in the morning, just to see if she gleaned any information from her that would aid my search. I can trust Steph. She’s the only one of my employees that knows the real me. She knows I’m not the player everyone else takes me for.
Resolving myself to wait until morning rather than whipping out my phone and texting Steph to ask—because then I really might seem stalker-ish—I get into my car and make the short drive home.
The house is cloaked in darkness as usual. Nobody home to keep a light on. Nobody to come home to and talk about my day. Not that I’d want to talk about today, per se, but maybe what Gramps said rubbed off on me a little. Maybe I would rather come home to someone rather than the cold reality of being single. I told him that just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely, but he scoffed at me and told me to stop being so bullheaded.
Grabbing myself a beer out of the fridge, I flick the cap off the bottle and settle in on the big sofa. Turning on the television, I channel hop until something takes my interest. Nothing does, so I look up my recordings. I just need something to distract me for an hour or so before I go to bed.
Deciding to rewatch the latest season of Game of Thrones from the start, I press play on the first episode, “Dragonstone”.
An hour later and the house is cloaked in darkness once more as I ascend the stairs. Once in my room, I switch on my bedside lamp before going into my en suite. I turn on the water in my fancy shower. I’m not even sure what all the buttons and nozzles do, but I decided to splurge on a decent shower when the studio started making me some decent money.
Once my clothes are discarded in the laundry basket, I look at myself in the mirror on the cabinet above the sink. My two-day-old scruff needs a shave, but I can’t be bothered. It can stand to go another day.
Standing in the shower, underneath the most powerful jets, I make quick work of washing and then stand there for a few moments longer, letting the water pummel my aching muscles. The memory of Jenna’s lips and their powerful hold over me springs to mind. Her soft, full lips felt like heaven. My blood burned through my veins as her touch set me on fire. It’s been a long time since anybody made me feel so alive. What to do next is the question. Maybe she’ll get another tattoo. Maybe she felt the connection I felt and will come back to seek me out. But I get the hollow feeling that she won’t. During the kiss, all I felt was a searing connection, binding us together. But afterwards, she walked away with Steph and I didn’t see her again. Surely if she’d felt anything she felt was worth exploring further, she would have come back to my room.
Dragging my ass to bed, I towel off quickly, dump the used towel in the basket and then climb under the covers. I can’t wait for sleep to claim me. Maybe I’ll dream of Jenna. And maybe that will be a good thing. Or maybe it won’t. After all, what good can a dream do except haunt me at night?
https://amzn.to/2w4lEd6
Keren Hughes
Prologue
The ink is dry. The decree absolute makes it final. The smile on my face says it all. Stanley Eugene Mason is out of my life once and for all. I changed my name by deed poll the moment the divorce papers got served. I no longer want any association with that man and that includes his name.
Going by my maiden name now makes me smile every time I think about it.
What’s in a name? It's just letters, right? But his boring name was also a reflection of his personality. He’d told me when we met that his name was Lee. Even he’d been loath to tell me his full name.
I pawned my engagement ring and my wedding band, not because I needed the money, but because I didn't know what else to do with them. It turned out that they weren’t worth much. Typical of my entire marriage. Turns out I wasn’t even worth a real diamond. The jeweller looked up at me over her horn-rimmed glasses and flashed me a sad smile as she told me it was a cubic zirconia.
I’m not a materialistic person by any means. But doesn’t every woman think she’s worth a decent engagement ring? It’s meant to symbolise the love between the couple. Instead this symbolised my cheap-ass ex who had only forked out for a gold-plated ring with a stone worth little more than if it had been a prize inside a Kinder Egg.
My wedding band had been bland. Just a plain, gold-plated band. I wasn’t even worth nine-carat gold, which isn't exactly expensive.
“Lee” had a friend who worked in the jewellery business and said he’d asked for only the best for the woman he loved. But that ended up being a lie, just like our marriage vows.
Lord help the woman he’s with now. I actually feel sorry for her. Not only is she lumbered with a man so boring he could be compared to watching paint dry, she’s with someone as cheap as those knock-off designer suits he wears.
I look at my beautiful house and smile. I finally have something that belongs only to me. Something he couldn’t take in the divorce because I didn’t sign on the dotted line until the divorce was final.
Two months ago, I moved into this place with only a few meagre belongings to my name. I didn't want anything more when I walked away from the marriage than when I had entered it. I took only what was my own. I gladly let him have everything else, even though the grounds for divorce was that he’d cheated on me and that made me entitled to more than I got.
Miss Perfect Tits, as I affectionately call her, is the latest in a long line of women he saw behind my back. What they all saw in him, I really don’t know. Any trace of what I saw in him disappeared the moment I found him in bed with some blonde with an inflated chest. He’d thought I was at work. Like that was an excuse to bring some whore to our marital bed. So yeah, I’d let him take everything, especially the bed.
Now here I am, alone and starting over. But it doesn’t scare me the way I thought it would. Instead I’m delighted to have my own space. I have room to breathe, unlike when I was being suffocated by my marriage. When I left, the day I’d found him with Miss Bottle Blonde, I looked around at the beautiful house we called home and it no longer looked like somewhere I remembered. When you leave someone, you can’t erase your memories and you can’t burn the whole place down. But you can move on. It was onwards and upwards for me from then on.
Here, in this new place I call home, I am no longer surrounded by things that remind me of my delightful ex-husband. There’s no wedding photo on the mantelpiece, happy smiling faces beaming at everyone. There are no belongings that we bought together, things that I had once thought meant something to us both. No, I left all that shit behind for him to do with as he pleased. I no longer want anything that is tainted with memories I’m trying my hardest to forget.
It's funny how “things” hold memories. Gifts you bought one another, items you picked out for your first home together. All of those things and more. They were contaminated the moment I saw Miss Bottle Blonde grinding her hips and moaning as her orgasm coated his cock. Jeez, what a thought. Now I look back and wonder if I ever really had an orgasm with him. Did I always fake it? Even the memories in my head became contaminated, an infection spread through them, tainting them all one by one.
At least here I am free to discover what truly makes me tick. I may not be able to forget my marriage, but I’m telling myself it was a learning curve. I remember all the good, the bad and the ugly because I don’t want my future to be the same old crap as my past. I want more for myself than a boring man, with a boring name and a tendency to fuck anything that moves.
“Lee” was a good man. He treated me like I was the only woman alive. He made me feel special. But once Stanley showed his true colours, Lee became but a distant memory.
I’m sitting at the kitchen island, drinking an iced coffee I grabbed from Starbucks on my way home. I almost want to frame my decree absolute, but instead I tuck it away in a drawer full of paperwork. I want to make something of my life now. I don’t know what, but having a blank canvas gives me the ability to be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to do. So, I better get to thinking.
Grams left me this house in her will, along with an inheritance. So, I’m going to make a fresh start in a house I loved as I grew up. Where do I start?
Chapter One
Jenna
I’m nervously anticipating something I’ve wanted to do for years but have never had the courage to go through with. In fact, my ex, Stanley, was adamant that he wouldn’t allow me to go through with it, he even threatened divorce if I did. That goes to show how much of a prick he was. I just wish I’d learned that lesson sooner.
Why am I so nervous? I should be excited; there’s something freeing about being a single, independent woman, allowed to do whatever the hell she wants with her own body. What was I thinking when I decided to come alone? I should have had my friend, and assistant at the florist shop I own, Brogan come with me and hold my hand. I’ve always been a bit scared of needles, and here I am waiting to get not only a navel piercing, but a tattoo as well. I take a couple of deep breaths and mentally shake myself. No one can tell me what to do anymore; this is my life and I am going to get on with it the way I see fit.
“Jenna, Nate will see you now,” the receptionist with quirky rainbow-coloured hair says.
I stand and follow her to a room down a small corridor. She opens the door for me and steps back.
“Take a seat. Nate will only be a minute,” she says with a bright smile as I enter the room.
I look around as she leaves and closes the door behind her. There’s art on the walls and it’s as eclectic in style as the rest of Blank Canvas. There are some gorgeous drawings that look like tattoos Nate or someone working here may have done before, and then there are canvases dotted around that depict a mishmash of things.
Realising I need to pee, I walk to the door and open it a crack, looking up and down the corridor to see if there’s anyone around who can point me in the right direction. It’s empty, so I walk to the far end, knowing that the toilets weren’t anywhere in between the reception and the room the spunky young girl showed me to.
Seeing the toilets set at the very back of the shop, I enter and lock the door. Making sure to wash my hands, I check my makeup and hair in the mirror before walking back to the room for my tattoo.
Once I’m back in the corridor, I realise I didn’t count how many rooms were between mine and the toilet. Damn! I’m sure Nate is waiting impatiently for me to return. I open the door to my left and it takes my mind a moment to register what I have walked into.
There’s a man in a chair, and he’s got to have the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life—not hard when you consider Stanley was nothing but a little prick, pun fully intended—and he’s having it pierced. Not once, not twice, I can’t even count how many piercings line this guy’s privates. I feel my face blush red with embarrassment at having walked in on this guy, and, in that moment, he looks at me. He throws me a casual smirk before focusing his attention back on the blue-haired woman doing the piercing.
I can’t even begin to imagine how much the actual piercing hurts, but what worries me most is how it must feel for the woman in his life. Or guy, I guess. I don’t know his sexual orientation. But damn if it doesn’t give me phantom pains between my legs. I feel my private parts clench in silent protest. I could never sleep with a guy who had that many piercings. Yes, I slept with a guy before Stanley who had a ring in the end of his cock, but that was different. It was one piercing, not multiple.
“It’s called a Jacob’s Ladder,” a deep, sensual voice whispers in my ear, causing me to simultaneously break out in goosebumps and jump out of my skin.
I can’t take my eyes off the piercing going on in front of me, but that voice has me curious as to what its owner looks like. Mentally shaking myself, I pull my eyes away and turn to the guy behind me. I’m met with the most stunning blue-green gaze and I find I want to get lost in those eyes. They twinkle with mirth. I mean, he did just catch me staring at a guy’s cock. I may have even been drooling for all I know.
“I’m Nate, your tattooist,” he says in that sinfully seductive voice.
“Jenna.”
My voice betrays me by squeaking out my name in an unladylike way. Not the best way to impress the guy. Not that I should want to impress him, but damn if looking him over doesn’t make my ovaries want to spontaneously combust. He is the hottest guy I ever remember laying eyes on.
“Well, Jenna, it would appear you are in the wrong room; follow me,” he says as he turns on his heel and walks off towards the door to his room.
I follow him, making sure to quietly close the door behind me as I make a hasty retreat.
Once I am back in the room I started off in, I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived.
“Don’t worry; it happens all the time. Walking into the wrong room, that is. Plus, I’m sure the guy didn’t mind being watched. And he did know you were watching. I saw him smirk at you. Don’t mind him though; he’s harmless. He’s always in here getting a new piercing or tattoo.”
So much for not having to mention it. I feel myself heat as I blush for the second time in a short space of time. Nate smiles as the colour tinges my skin. His eyes are twinkling again, and I can’t help feeling hypnotised. He really is handsome. Now I have the time to look him over properly, I can see he’s at least six feet tall, has sleeves of tattoos down both arms, and damn if those arms don’t look like they could squeeze me deliciously. His dark brown hair is tousled, and it looks like he’s been raking a hand through it. Probably while waiting for me to hurry my ass up.
“Sit down. I won’t bite,” he says and chuckles at me as I walk to the leather chair in front of him.
Looking at his hands, I see yet more ink and I find myself wondering if I’ll be able to sit still throughout this tattoo. I didn’t know the guy who would have his hands on me would be this hot. Damn it, why does he have to have the most panty-melting smile known to man…or woman?!
I sit down, and Nate begins to pour ink into little pots beside him. I’ve never been into a tattoo shop before, I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t whatever this is. The sparks I can feel coming off him. That’s not natural. I never felt any sparks with my ex. My friends talk about sexual chemistry and, although I’m by far no virgin, I have never felt a chemistry like this. It’s like an electrical storm, gathering energy all around me, zapping me with high-wattage currents. I have to clench my legs to quell the feelings there. I hope Nate doesn’t notice. But what I wouldn’t give to have him feel the same way.
He’s a virtual stranger, albeit a handsome one. Why am I lusting after someone who I know nothing about, except his name and the fact that he has a sinfully sexy voice and a body carved of marble—or what I can see of it, at least.
His arms are muscular and tattooed. He has so many tattoos it’s hard to focus on just one. But his ink isn’t what I’m attracted to—well, it might be in part—it’s him as a whole. He’s nothing to me, but he makes me feel like a giddy teenager with her first crush.
Looking up at me, he flashes me a megawatt grin and I see he has a perfect “Hollywood” smile. There’s something more though. It’s in his eyes. I can’t name it. Is it lust? What I feel can’t be mutual, surely?!
“Ready?” Nate asks, startling me.
“Umm…” I ponder it for a moment before nodding.
“Then let’s get this stencil in place so you can be sure you like the positioning.”
“Oh, umm…”
I thought he was ready to begin tattooing me already. I’ve totally forgotten about the design. To tell the truth, I’d probably let him tattoo whatever the hell he liked on me.
Taking my sweater off, I reveal the tank top I’m wearing underneath. Noticing where Nate’s gaze is, I quickly realise I pulled up the tank as well as the sweater, baring my skin to him. I’m almost embarrassed, because not many men have seen so much of me. But considering a few moments ago when my face must have betrayed my embarrassment at seeing the guy with all the piercings, I’m sure I couldn’t blush much harder.
His hands are soft as he applies the stencil, pressing all over to make sure the ink is left on my skin. I find myself imagining what those hands would feel like if he was touching me somewhere lower.
“This is big for a first tattoo; you’re braver than some who come in here,” Nate says as he steps back to check the design looks right. “Check it out in the mirror and, if you’re happy, we’ll begin.”
Admiring the beauty of the piece on my right shoulder, I smile. This tattoo represents my freedom and my rebirth into the woman I was meant to be but, wasn’t ever allowed to be. I can just see it when Nate has finished—the fiery oranges, the bold yellows and reds that will replace the simple lines of the initial drawing. I smile, and Nate flashes me a salacious grin as he sits down next to me.
“Shall we begin?” he asks as he pulls on a pair of latex gloves.
I momentarily feel deflated, knowing that his skin won’t be pressed against mine. Smiling, I adjust my sitting position a little and get comfortable. This is going to take around four hours according to the person I spoke to when I booked myself in. I was nervous then, but now I know that it’s Nate that will be doing the tattoo, I feel better. I feel shy and yet somehow relaxed in his company. He seems to have an aura of peace around him. That seems kind of at odds with how imposing and beautiful he is but seems to fit perfectly at the same time.
As the needle is pressed to my skin, I suck in a sharp breath, bracing myself for the pain. But when it doesn’t come, I relax and enjoy the feeling in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Nate looks happy, like this is something he was born to do. And maybe he was. I know nothing about him. Not that I would mind getting to know him better, in more ways than one.
“So, Nate, how long have you worked here?” I find myself asking, wanting to know more about the alluring man with his hands on me.
“I’ve been here for about eight years now. I found this place empty and knew without a doubt it was perfect for my vision. I started working at Tattoo Envy when I was eighteen and just an apprentice. I honed my craft until I felt I was ready to open my own place when I was around twenty-eight. To be honest, I would have started out on my own before then, but I really loved the staff that had become like a family to me. I didn’t want to leave them. But they urged me to spread my wings and that’s when I started Blank Canvas. I had learned the business side of things from Hannah, the woman that owned Tattoo Envy, and so I had all the necessary skills to start this place. I just didn’t know if it would take off. I’m glad it did though.”
I hadn’t been expecting him to divulge so much information and, as he realised this himself, he apologised for oversharing. Smiling at him, I told him apologies weren’t necessary.
“Is there a story behind this?” he asks as he nods his head at where the wings are starting to really take shape.
“You know what they say about rising from the ashes,” I start. “Well, I guess it’s true. I’m making my fresh start. I should have done it a long time ago, but I didn’t possess the courage. Or at least I didn’t think I did. This tattoo represents me being stronger than I ever knew. I guess you could say the ashes and flames of the design represent Lee, my ex-husband. And the phoenix is me, rising from the past to a beautiful new future.”
There, I’d overshared in reciprocation. Though I didn’t admit Lee’s real name wasn’t in fact Lee, or Douchebag, or Cheating Asshole, or Serial Shagger. No, I’d kept that information to myself. Stanley Eugene “Douchebag” Mason was a part of my past I’d rather not discuss with the hot, muscular, tattooed guy with his hands on me. He’s not a therapist after all, just your run of the mill tattooist. Though I’m not sure anything about Nate could be classed as “run of the mill”.
“I know the feeling. And to think I almost married her. Thank goodness for small mercies.”
His statement has me curious, but his gaze collides with mine and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush. There’s something like hunger in his gaze as his eyes roam over me. I cannot get entangled with any man, much less this incredibly hot specimen. I’ll end up hurt and my heart can’t take any more right now. I can sure dream about the hot guy who took my virginity though—ink virginity, that is.
My best friend, Brogan, has told me I have what she calls “virgin skin”. I laughed at the notion, but I guess it’s true.
“I did marry mine,” I reply after a pause. “I was young and naïve. There’s no chance of me making that mistake again. Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me too. I couldn’t stick around for him to hurt me again. There are only so many chances you can give a person and, while I’m a believer in second chances, I don’t believe in twenty-second chances, you know?!”
Nate looks at me with something akin to pity in his gaze, but all traces of that vanish when he looks me square in the eye.
“I’m sorry he hurt you. I may not know who he is or what he did, but I do know if I had a woman like you, I wouldn’t want to hurt her for the world.”
My blood begins to sing in my veins and my heart beats faster at the sincere tone in his voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d make a play for him, let him know I was his to do with as he pleased. But sadly, I know better. I know that so many relationships end in bitter resentment. And I’m too old to want to “hook up” as the kids call it these days. I’m not interested in one-night stands or anything casual. But sadly, I’m also not interested in trying for anything more serious either.
Brogan would tell me to go for it. To make a move, be bold and just see where it takes me. But then, she’s a fair bit younger than me and hasn’t been married, let alone found her husband in bed with another woman. She says you never get anywhere in life if you don’t take a risk here and there. But I’d rather stay risk free and pain free too.
Nate and I make small talk as he continues with my tattoo. I close my eyes every so often as he brushes my skin, and it causes me to stifle a moan. He flirts with me, but I’m guessing that’s one way of getting repeat custom from women. Flirt and they’ll fall all over themselves for you. Well, not me. Although mental images assault me and tempt me with their soft allure.
When Nate clears his throat, it’s clear I was too lost in those mental images to notice he had finished the tattoo.
“Oh, Nate,” I gasp as I gaze down at my shoulder. It’s no longer bare. Now there is a stunning phoenix rising from the flames. I can’t wait for it to be healed, so I can walk around proudly with this reminder on my skin. I am the phoenix, and I fully intend to rise from everything Lee turned to ash.
“Stand up and get a better look in the mirror, then I’ll wrap it for you before giving you the aftercare instructions.”
I do as he says and look at the glorious ink in the mirror. I was right—the fiery oranges, bold yellows and reds, they mix to make the most amazing artwork I have ever seen. The graceful bird rises from the ashes and flames around her as she soars above it all. I gasp in astonishment and appreciation.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
“Truly stunning,” Nate replies, and I get an inkling he’s talking about more than just his artwork as his gaze looks appreciatively over me.
Goosebumps break out on my skin again as he comes to wrap the tattoo for me. It feels like the first time he’s touched my body, and yet it feels intimate and familiar at the same time. I really must get these kinds of thoughts out of my head.
“If you want to follow me, I’ll take you to Steph, the lady who’s going to do your piercing,” Nate says as he walks towards the door.
He stops short of opening the door and turns to face me. I stumble as I didn’t realise he was going to stop. With strong arms, Nate catches me before I face-plant the floor like a total idiot. Instead of letting me go, he looks down at me and roots me to the spot with just one look. His strong hands hold my hips, and his handsome, strong jaw dips towards me. I have only a moment to register what he’s asking without words. I nod infinitesimally and brace myself as his soft full lips close over mine.
My senses are on overload as Nate’s kiss sets me on fire. He licks at the seam of my mouth, seeking access to kiss me more deeply. For once, I go with my heart instead of my head, and I open my mouth to allow him to explore with his tongue. Our tongues dance together, and Nate’s hands play with the hem of the tank top I’m wearing, making me shiver in the most delicious way. Maybe I didn’t imagine the chemistry after all. A feeling I’ve never experienced before works its way up my spine as I allow him to take all I have to give in this one kiss—a kiss that sets a trail ablaze, searing its way across my heart and soul.
Chapter Two
Nate
Fuck! I don’t know what I was thinking. Kissing a customer could get me in all sorts of hot water. I have a feeling she wouldn’t report me for sexual harassment, but that feeling is more one of hope rather than based on actual facts.
She kissed me just as fervently as I kissed her. Those soft, full lips felt amazing as she opened her mouth to let me explore. Little tingles of electricity ran up and down my spine. The only thing that stopped me kissing her was Steph knocking on the door. She’d come to see how far along with the tattoo we were, as she had to pierce Jenna’s navel at some point.
Jenna followed Steph down the corridor, and I was left to my own devices. I had another client booked in but needed a few minutes to gather myself first.
The women round here see me as a bad boy. A total player. Whilst that isn’t true, I haven’t done much to try and dispel the rumours. It doesn’t hurt me to have them thinking whatever they like about me. I’m not looking for love, so it doesn’t really affect me. Or it didn’t. Until today. It’s not like I’m wanting to run off and marry Jenna, but fuck if I didn’t want her. My cock had been straining to be freed from the moment her lips seared mine in a kiss so passionate, so hungry it was like she was on death row and I was her last meal.
It took ten minutes for me to finally calm down enough to start my next client’s tattoo. Ten minutes of scrubbing my hands over my face, tugging my hair, pacing the length of my room. Ten minutes of wanting to rip open the door, race down the corridor to Steph’s room and see if they were done. I don’t know what would have happened if I had done that. She’d looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. She was skittish. After a kiss so deep my soul felt it, she was nervous enough to run behind Steph the second the door was open.
Something told me that as much as she’d wanted that kiss, she had also done everything possible to keep it from happening. Well, not quite everything as it had happened. But I knew she’d thought about it and was at war with herself over it. I don’t know how I knew; I just had a feeling that was the case.
I’d let her run off without so much as a glance over her shoulder, and I hadn’t gone after her. But now I’m regretting that decision because she’s gone, and I have no way of contacting her. I don’t even know her surname. There’s no way to look her up. I looked through the shop’s diary to see if she’d left a mobile number, but she hadn’t. That was unusual as our receptionist normally asks for one from every client. But I didn’t bother to question it. I just felt deflated as I walked back to my room to clean everything down before we closed.
Spraying the leather seat she’d been sitting on makes me think of her. I close my eyes and see her there. Such a gorgeous creamy expanse of skin. I only wished I hadn’t been wearing gloves so that I could have touched her properly. Damn hygiene rules! But no matter whether the gloves stopped me feeling her skin, they didn’t stop me from feeling the electricity that buzzed through my veins with every stroke I made. I feel it hum in my veins as I stand here with my eyes closed.
My grandfather would kick my ass and tell me to hunt her down, no matter what it took. He would no doubt say that any girl that makes you feel that way is one worth pursuing. He and my grandmother had such a beautiful relationship and had no problem with public displays of affection. They taught me what real love looks like. My grandmother’s death hit him hard. It hit both of us hard, but my grandfather has become a shell of his former self since she passed. He seems hollow and haunted every time I visit now. The smile he had permanently etched on his face when she was alive no longer touches his eyes and makes them sparkle. He’s lost that vitality. It makes me sad to think about how much he’s lost.
My grandmother was one of the most amazing women I have ever known. She and Gramps took me in when my parents died many years ago. They had been the best parental figures I could wish for after my real parents. I don’t have many memories of my mum and dad these days, just some old photos and stuff that was kept in the attic for me. My grandmother had made a memory box full of things from my childhood and as many things of my parents as she could. It’s painful to look through it, but it’s a welcome pain. It means I can still feel.
It hit me like an articulated lorry when my parents died. My life had been turned inside out, upside down and left in chaos. My grandparents took me in and were there for me when I had nightmares or wet the bed. They were the ones that soothed all my aches and pains, but I can’t do the same thing for Gramps now, and that kills me.
I finish cleaning down my room and turn out the light. I’ll pay Gramps a visit tonight. I’ll even swing by and grab him takeaway from his favourite restaurant. He’ll be happy to have real food compared to the slop they feed him at the home. Or at least that’s what he calls it. I’m sure it’s fine really, but he always moans that, no matter what he has to eat, it all tastes like the same crap. His words, not mine.
Closing the door behind me, I walk down the corridor to the front of the shop. Star, our receptionist, is just logging off her computer as I come up behind the counter.
“Hey, boss,” she says in that effervescent way of hers.
“Hey, Star.”
“You all finished up? Seems like everyone else has gone for the evening.”
“Yep. Just off to The Steakhouse to grab Gramps a T-bone.”
“That’s so sweet. You have a good night, boss,” she says as she grabs her coat and slips into it.
“You too, Star. See you tomorrow.”
I walk to the parking lot after locking up. My shiny black Miata MX-5 is waiting for me. I hop in and start the engine. She purrs like a kitten and I smile as I remember the last time I took Gramps out in her. He said that it was a good job my grandma wasn’t alive when I bought her, else she would have had a heart attack. She would’ve preferred me to drive something more “safe looking” according to Gramps. I told him that she was perfectly safe, and I had taken him on a ride out to prove my point. He’d fallen in love with my baby but said Grandma would have had kittens if I’d taken her out in it.
Laughing at the memory, I pull out of the car park and head for The Steakhouse. Prime T-bone steak with fat chips, mushrooms, and onion rings, with horseradish sauce, that was the order of the day. Gramps would cheer up a bit if I provided him with his contraband—you’re not supposed to smuggle food in to the patients at the home, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
The question is, do I tell him about Jenna and wait for him to impart me with a pearl of wisdom? It might do him good to think his grandson is interested in a woman after all this time. My ex put me off women for the longest time and although my reputation precedes me and labels me a player that couldn’t be further from the truth. There actually hasn’t been anybody since her. My heart wasn’t in the right place for anything with anyone. My grandma had died at around the same time, so I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for finding love when my Gramps had lost the love of his life. And she was his life. They had done everything together. They’d been together since they were sixteen and had a good, long life together before she passed. Lillian Peterson had been the life and soul of the party. Everybody naturally gravitated towards her. There was just something about her that everyone loved. My gramps especially.
He said the day he’d met her was the day he knew he was going to marry her. She’d come into his life like a gift from god. Gramps believed she’d been put in his path for a reason and they’d gone on to marry, then had a baby a couple of years later. He was their only child and I was their only grandchild. I had no other family to speak of which is why they’d been the ones to take me in when my parents died, even though they weren’t getting any younger and having an eight-year-old running them ragged must have been hard at times. But they never complained. They showered me with love and affection on a daily basis. Loving them had been so easy. The two of them were so special to me. Which is one of the reasons I had gone off the rails when my grandma died.
Heading into The Steakhouse, the owner sees me and walks to greet me.
“Nate, the usual is it?” he asks as he walks with me to the counter.
“Yep. I’m off to see the old man and I’m assuming that the food he was given this evening wasn’t up to his standards and he probably refused to eat it, the stubborn old git.”
Devin laughs as the guy behind the takeaway counter comes to take my order.
“He’s stubborn alright. Please pass on my regards. It’s been a while since we saw him. Do you think you’ll be able to sneak him out of there anytime soon to come and have a proper meal with us?”
“I’m not sure, Dev. It’s like trying to break out of prison. You’d think they’d let me take him out, being his grandson and all. But they say he needs twenty-four seven care and they seem to think he’d wander off if it was just the two of us.”
“That he might, lad. Dementia is a hard thing to deal with. I’m sure they don’t mean any offence in thinking you can’t look after him. They just mean that it’s possible he’ll get confused and end up giving you the slip.”
Devin must see the hard look in my eyes because he holds his palms up and gives me a small smile.
“I didn’t mean any offence, Nate. Your gramps, he’s a great guy. But the dementia does things to his mind, you know this. I’m not saying you wouldn’t keep careful watch over him. But what if you did something as simple as went to the toilet? You couldn’t take him with you. You’d be gone for all of sixty seconds maybe. But that’s enough time for him to wander off.”
“I guess. Sorry, Dev. I just get a bit … well, a bit touchy when it comes to him. Call me overprotective and sensitive. Okay, looking at me you wouldn’t think I’m so soft at heart. I look like a hard-ass guy who couldn’t give a fuck. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love the bones of my gramps. I would give anything to take him out of the home, even if only for an hour. I’d drive us around, and he wouldn’t have chance to give me the slip. I’d take him cruising around the city he loves so much. But no. Rules are rules. Hence why I’m sneaking him this contraband tonight. They can stick that particular rule where the sun doesn’t shine!”
The server hands me the bag of containers and I hand over the cash. Devin walks me to the door, apologising again for any offence caused and I tell him to forget about it.
Climbing into my car, I set the takeaway bag on the passenger seat and bring the engine to life. I drive out of the car park and onto the main road, the one that leads me to Haven Lodge Residential Home.
***
Gramps is sitting in his chair facing out of the window when I arrive. He startles when he sees me in the reflection.
“Daniel, how good to see you son. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had, and I haven’t seen your mother all day. I don’t know where she’s got to.”
“It’s Nate, Gramps. I brought you a steak.”
A look ghosts across his face and I wish I’d played along and said I was my dad. Sometimes it’s easier, and I don’t like the thought of bursting his bubble. But sometimes I just want him to remember it’s me.
“Oh, Nathaniel, sorry, I thought you were your father. A steak, you say? It better be a T-bone!”
His face lights up as I place the bag on the table and begin to unpack its contents. I grab plates from the cupboard and cutlery from the drawer. He’s not supposed to have them in here, but I keep them hidden from the staff. Or at least I think I do. They haven’t said anything about them, yet.
“Damn, Nathaniel. I forgot how good a steak tastes,” he says around a mouthful of medium-well steak.
“It’s good, right, Gramps?” I reply as I tuck into my own.
We don’t talk much as we devour our meals. Gramps’s eyes are set alight as he enjoys every morsel. Comfortable silence has settled around us and I don’t know what to say for fear of setting him off this late in the evening. It only takes the slightest thing sometimes, and you never know when those times are going to be. I guess Devin was right about taking him out of the home, even for an hour. So much has the possibility of going wrong. That doesn’t mean I have to like their rules, but I know that Gramps isn’t going to get better. Eventually, the dementia will get worse, and instead of having days where he remembers who I am, I’ll be lost to him forever. So, I intend to make the very most of however long we have before that happens. And even when it does happen, I’ll still come to visit. Even if it means pretending to be my dad. As much as that will hurt me to imitate my dead father.
“I met a girl,” I say as I watch for his reaction.
His eyes twinkle and he smiles a mile wide. Boy I’ve missed that smile. It’s been too long.
“Tell me more, boy. Don’t miss out a single detail. I want to know everything,” he says, coercing me into spilling the beans about Jenna, even if there’s not that much to tell.
***
As I leave Haven Lodge, I smile to myself. Gramps was as much like his old self as he could’ve been, other than initially mistaking me for my father. I don’t have many memories of my parents, only photographs and the stories Gramps tells in his lucid times.
I know I look like my father though. I see it every time I look at my parents’ wedding photo. I have his eyes, my mum’s nose … It’s like looking in a mirror only now I’m looking at a ghost.
Gramps told me he thought I should do everything I could to track this girl down. He said that for all I know, she could be “the one”. I didn’t tell him I don’t believe in “the one”. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. But our conversation did light a fire in me. I want to find out more about this girl, this woman. Jenna. How the hell do I go about finding out though? We didn’t have a number listed for her, and the only thing I know is that she lives locally. I decide to ask Steph at work in the morning, just to see if she gleaned any information from her that would aid my search. I can trust Steph. She’s the only one of my employees that knows the real me. She knows I’m not the player everyone else takes me for.
Resolving myself to wait until morning rather than whipping out my phone and texting Steph to ask—because then I really might seem stalker-ish—I get into my car and make the short drive home.
The house is cloaked in darkness as usual. Nobody home to keep a light on. Nobody to come home to and talk about my day. Not that I’d want to talk about today, per se, but maybe what Gramps said rubbed off on me a little. Maybe I would rather come home to someone rather than the cold reality of being single. I told him that just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely, but he scoffed at me and told me to stop being so bullheaded.
Grabbing myself a beer out of the fridge, I flick the cap off the bottle and settle in on the big sofa. Turning on the television, I channel hop until something takes my interest. Nothing does, so I look up my recordings. I just need something to distract me for an hour or so before I go to bed.
Deciding to rewatch the latest season of Game of Thrones from the start, I press play on the first episode, “Dragonstone”.
An hour later and the house is cloaked in darkness once more as I ascend the stairs. Once in my room, I switch on my bedside lamp before going into my en suite. I turn on the water in my fancy shower. I’m not even sure what all the buttons and nozzles do, but I decided to splurge on a decent shower when the studio started making me some decent money.
Once my clothes are discarded in the laundry basket, I look at myself in the mirror on the cabinet above the sink. My two-day-old scruff needs a shave, but I can’t be bothered. It can stand to go another day.
Standing in the shower, underneath the most powerful jets, I make quick work of washing and then stand there for a few moments longer, letting the water pummel my aching muscles. The memory of Jenna’s lips and their powerful hold over me springs to mind. Her soft, full lips felt like heaven. My blood burned through my veins as her touch set me on fire. It’s been a long time since anybody made me feel so alive. What to do next is the question. Maybe she’ll get another tattoo. Maybe she felt the connection I felt and will come back to seek me out. But I get the hollow feeling that she won’t. During the kiss, all I felt was a searing connection, binding us together. But afterwards, she walked away with Steph and I didn’t see her again. Surely if she’d felt anything she felt was worth exploring further, she would have come back to my room.
Dragging my ass to bed, I towel off quickly, dump the used towel in the basket and then climb under the covers. I can’t wait for sleep to claim me. Maybe I’ll dream of Jenna. And maybe that will be a good thing. Or maybe it won’t. After all, what good can a dream do except haunt me at night?
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