Ruby’s, Karen’s former place of employment, was packed on a Friday night. The interior was loud, and a little dark. Even over the noise of dozens of diners, he was able to pick out Karen’s voice. “You have to try the strawberry lemonade, Abby,” she said from a corner table.
“Of course it’s alcoholic. And don’t worry – we won’t get stiffed on drinks here. Nate’s working the bar tonight, and he makes them strong.”
Jed arrived at the table just in time to see Karen winking at Abby.
Good God, she looked amazing. Not Abby – Karen. Abby might’ve looked good too, but Karen stole the spotlight so completely that there was no telling. Her blue-green dress stood in alluring contrast to her dark red hair and creamy skin, plenty of which was exposed by the low V-neck. She was leaning toward Abby, jabbing a finger enthusiastically at the drink menu, and the position showcased her ample cleavage like a dream.
“Jed!” Eric called out from one end of the table, where he sat with his arm around Mina. “Happy birthday, man.”
His words unleashed a floodgate. The entire table erupted in a chorus of well-wishes, drowning out the rest of the noise completely for a few seconds. The outburst took him by surprise; when he’d laid eyes on Karen, he’d forgotten that it was his birthday, too.
He strode toward the table, acknowledging their sentiments with a nod, and took the nearest empty seat. It just so happened to be the seat directly across from Karen.
Tyler elbowed Jed in the side. “Already ordered a pitcher of your favorite.”
“Thanks.” Jed’s mouth went momentarily dry as he stared across the table, and not just because Tyler’s statement had him craving beer. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the seat across from Karen – he couldn’t help staring at her in that dress. He had to look like an idiot. He felt like an idiot.
A rush of hot air and a sizzle came from behind, and a waitress spared him by lowering a platter of battered, spicy-smelling shrimp onto the table in front of him. It was an appetizer platter big enough for the entire group, and she’d barely placed a couple bowls of dipping sauce on the table top before everyone began reaching for the food.
Jed grabbed one of the shrimp and dipped it blindly into a sauce bowl, forcing himself to look at everyone seated around the table as he chewed, not just Karen.
Tyler, James, Abby and Eric – all Hot Ink’s artists were there, plus Mina, one of the studio’s receptionists and Eric’s fiancée. Mina’s little sister Jess was there too, eating shrimp and smiling as she sat in her wheelchair beside a teenaged boy who had to be her boyfriend. The kid was grinning at Jess with a distinctly dopey, instantly recognizable young love kind of look.
The sight of the two kids smiling at each other and goofing off with a couple of severed shrimp tails sent a pang of searing nostalgia through Jed’s chest. His heart beat slowly but deliberately beneath the buttoned-up front of his shirt, reminding him that it was still stubbornly functioning even after being broken.
He understood the all-or-nothing nature of young love; the memory of it shimmered across the surface of his mind, startlingly vivid for a few fleeting seconds.
He shoved the memories away. He was in the middle of celebrating his thirty-fifth birthday, for fuck’s sake. There was no ring on his finger, though the band he’d once worn had left a permanent mark against his skin, fainter than a tattoo, but just as lasting. This was where the love that had once consumed him had left him.
CHAPTER 2
“It was a disaster,” Abby said, shaking her head, still in conversation with Karen. “Wasn’t it, Jed?” She turned blue eyes on Jed, snapping him out of his self-pity with her unexpected question.
“Disaster?”
“The cover-up job I finished today. The original tattoo was a disaster, wasn’t it?”
Jed grimaced. “That’s putting it kindly. It was a fucking travesty.” Remembering himself, he glanced toward the kids at the end of the table. Luckily, they were too absorbed in each other’s company to spare any attention for what he was saying.
Abby grinned, and Karen frowned. “See, that’s another thing that scares me about tattoos – there are so many horrible ones out there. What if you went to get something beautiful and it turned out to be an embarrassment?”
“A legitimate artist would make sure you got something that made you happy.” Jed’s gaze was drawn to the creamy skin of Karen’s chest and arms. An unblemished, unmarked canvas – her skin was perfect, and so fair that ink of any color would contrast brilliantly. If she ever decided to be tattooed … what wouldn’t he give to be the one to put the ink in her skin? “And they’d never even consider putting something as pathetic as the trash Abby covered up on someone’s body.”