It was a beautiful evening, warm and breezy, the kind of weather that turned one’s thoughts to summer. Emotionwise, she had good days and bad, but looking up at the clear, darkening cerulean sky, she decided today wasn’t too shabby.
She’d felt a little better before that phone call, though. Hopefully, her friends wouldn’t start playing matchmaker for her. Janelle should know better than that. What the fuck was wrong with her?
Some little kids were playing in the park across the street. Two of the girls reminded her of Ashley and Mia: one blonde, one brunette, both with bouncing ponytails. She stood there a long time on the sidewalk, watching them in the blue-gold evening sunlight while the breeze played with tendrils of her hair. The girls spun on the merry-go-round; they climbed the monkey bars and played tag. Their moms—or so she assumed—sat on a bench nearby, talking and laughing and sipping from Starbucks cups.
As Starla walked back to the shop, her melancholy was heavier on her shoulders than it had been.
Kids, she thought. Now I can’t even fucking see kids at play. I can’t bake cookies. I can’t smoke. A softball game was on ESPN at work the other day, and I couldn’t change the channel fast enough. I look at the blue sky…and I see his eyes.
She was late by the time she reached the front door, but for a few minutes there, she hadn’t thought she would be able to go back in. The crew at Dermamania South had seen her go to pieces often enough. She refused—fucking flat-out refused—for the crew at North to witness it too.
She was fine. It would be okay. She snatched open the door.
Jared was sitting in her chair.
If Starla had been holding anything, she would have dropped it. If she hadn’t made a solemn vow to keep it together a split second ago, she would have run back out the door where it was safe. The breath seized in her lungs and almost choked her before she managed to wrench it free.
Thank God no one else in the building seemed to be paying much attention to her. Jared got up and moved toward her, his caution evident in every step, while she stood still as a statue ensnared by that endless blue. He looked incredible. Even better than she remembered, if that were possible. Beard. Snug-fitting navy T-shirt that did wonderful things for his biceps and flat abs. Jeans that were made to show off those powerful thighs. And eyes that rivaled the great blue expanse outside.
She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to die. What she did was walk past him toward her office in the back, telling him with only a glance to follow her. Wordlessly, he did.
She was going to kill Janelle. Kill her slowly.
Once in her office, she closed her door quietly, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at the black-and-white tiles on the floor instead of him. Anywhere but at him. He was too beautiful; it hurt too much.
“I wanted to make sure you would be here,” he began, and she closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, wishing she could close her ears too. “But I was afraid if you knew I was coming, you wouldn’t be.”
Starla didn’t trust herself to speak yet.
“But I know what you’ve been through. So if you tell me to walk out and never speak to you again, I will. It’ll kill me, but I will.”
“No.” That came out fast enough. As hard as it was to stand in front of him, watching him walk away would be impossible.
His eyes softened in relief. “I miss you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
All the emotions she thought she’d dealt with came surging back. The embarrassment of her hasty, outraged words. How she’d aimed them at him so that they would cause the most damage. How hurt he’d looked. Yes, beneath his anger at her, she’d seen the heartbreak. She hadn’t known she held the power to make him look that way, that she had dominion over his heart to break it.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said softly.
“I do. I wish I’d handled things differently. I wish you’d stayed. I was…” He sighed and ran a hand through his soft black hair. She was momentarily fascinated by the way it caught the overhead lights. “I don’t have an excuse. I should have let myself unwind before we talked about any of it.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said, sounding so small. “I’m scared. I’m broken.”
He stepped closer, gently resting his hands on her upper arms. “You’re strong.”
“Yeah, I ran away from everything, like you said. I’m so strong.” For the first time, she dared to look up at him. At his eyes. Blue was too weak a description. They were striated with every hue from royal to denim to cobalt to lapis and every shade in between, shining all for her. Never again would she have to compare them to anyone else’s. She was ruined for all others.
“You took a leap. You believed in yourself. Everything crashed down around you, and you built something new from the ashes.”
“I’m the one who brought it all down.”
“You had help. Starla…I don’t want to save you if you don’t want me to. I don’t want to slay your dragons. I don’t want to crash into your new life and disrupt it. I only want to be with you whenever and however I can.” His big, warm hands moved from her arms to her face, framing her, forcing her to meet his hypnotic gaze. She trembled. “I don’t want to compete with your past. I don’t care about it. You’re not broken, you’re beautiful. I only want to love you. Let me. Just let me.” She tasted those last three words as his mouth descended on hers as if he couldn’t hold himself back from her another second, and oh fuck, he tasted good. Starla gasped from the suddenness, the warmth, the sheer relief that swooped through her body and lit it up like it had never been lit before. Even all the dusty, dark, cobwebbed corners of her soul brightened, though she knew she would have to see and face that ugliness before she could clean it out.
His strong arms caught her as her knees buckled, but she managed to somehow reach over and lock her office door. Oh God, he was sweet. She ground her hips into his and was rewarded with his hands going to her ass, forcing an even closer contact. “I do want that tattoo,” he murmured against her ear, and she chuckled.
“Really? You’re thinking about that now?”
“Yes. I’m thinking I’m not going to fuck you here. I’m thinking I’m going to take you back to your place, or mine if you want, but yours is closer. And that’s important. I have a lot of time to make up for. It could take all night.” His teeth caught her earlobe, giving a nibble. His big, hard hands squeezed her ass. Her entire body trembled as she felt his cock through his jeans, and she wondered how in the hell she would make it through the next few hours without that inside her, without his beard scratching her inner thighs, without his tongue on her clit.
“You make me wait that long, and I’m gonna be an animal,” she warned him.
“I’m counting on it.”
Hardest man to fuck I’ve ever met.
Luckily, she was rarely one to back down from a challenge.
***
Maybe he’d lost his mind, but if this was insanity then it felt damn good. He loved being in Starla’s chair, under her capable, insanely talented hands, feeling the expert bite of her needle. Although he started small with only Ashley’s and Mia’s names and birthday in a banner on the back of his shoulder, he could imagine doing this again. He got off on watching Starla be all professional.
“Maybe I’ll get a third name someday soon,” he joked, looking over his shoulder to give her a wink.
She practically leapt back. “What, mine? Oh no. That’s like the kiss of doom, and I refuse to doom us.”
“I think we’ll be all right.”
“Still.” She rolled her chair closer again, holding his gaze for a moment before going back to her work. “Let’s not take any chances.”
It was difficult to sit there with her presence radiating warmly against his back like a direct ray of sunshine. He wanted to look at her. He could smell her peachy scent—he could practically taste her. Soon he would, but dammit, he’d waited long enough.
At last, she was done, and when she handed him a mirror so he could see the finished product in the mirror on the wall, his mouth fell open. The design she’d drawn up had been simple, but on his skin she’d put such life into it. “I love it,” he said, momentarily at a loss.
“Do you?” She sounded anxious. Setting down the mirror, he turned and wrapped her in his arms, feeling her body stiffen a little because they were right there in full sight of everyone in the shop. After a second, though, she relaxed and laid her head against his naked chest.
“I do. Thank you. It’s beautiful.” The girls would be tickled. He couldn’t wait to show them.
They were like a couple of awkward teenagers on the drive over to her new place, stealing glances at each other and exchanging stupidly giddy grins. She directed him to a nice apartment complex and led him up a flight of stairs—he memorized the way for future reference. When she unlocked the door and yanked him inside intent on kissing him senseless, he stopped her and looked around at the sparse surroundings.
“Oh babe. If you need—”
Starla shushed him by placing a finger on his lips. “No. Not that I don’t appreciate whatever you’re about to offer, but I’ll get everything I need myself. I need to do that.”