Beautifully Scarred Read online

  “Do you read?” I ask.

  “I’m a sucker for a good romance or suspense.”

  “There are a few Stephen King and John Grisham books on there. Sorry to say, I don’t have any romances. You could borrow some, as long as you promise to return them,” I say softly against her neck in between kisses.

  Her fingers run along the spines of the books. “If I borrow some, there’s the guarantee of seeing you again. I’ll have to return them.”

  “You see, it’s all part of my evil plan.”

  Mills laughs, pulling out my hardback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. “This was one of my favorites as a child.” Her voice softens as she flicks through the pages.

  “Mine too,” I whisper quietly, remembering a time in my life I haven’t thought about in years. In sixth grade, one of my assignments was to read To Kill a Mockingbird. I would sit in my bedroom with my best friend and read it out loud to her. She wanted to know what the story was about and hung on every word of the book, curious to know what would happen next. Always begging for me to read another chapter before she had to go home.

  Mills turns her head. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m good.” I let my arms fall from her waist and walk into the kitchen. I need to clear my head of the memory. I totally forgot about her love of the book. As the years have gone by, I seem to have forgotten a lot about her. It’s rare moments like these when she pops into my mind, reminding me of the friendship we once had.

  Mills follows me into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “Kiss me,” she begs.

  I comply, my mouth moving softly over hers. This kiss isn’t demanding like ones we’ve shared before, it’s smooth and sensual. I could kiss this woman forever.

  Forever. The word doesn’t scare me as it has before.

  My fingers lace into the short hair on top of her head, holding her as I taste her lips. Our tongues dance, and I savor this moment with her. This woman has the power to make me want more. Make me want to explore a relationship with her. All I have to do is convince her of the same.

  Mills pulls away, her hand on my chest as we both struggle to catch our breath. She turns on her heels, lifting her hands in the air as she peels her black dress over her head, tossing it on the floor. She stands before me in a black lace thong and those knee-high boots.

  In a sultry voice, she whispers, “Catch me if you can.” With that, she turns and sways her hips as she walks toward my bedroom, leaving me speechless with a hard-on.

  Damn this woman.

  I’m enjoying my second cup of coffee as I walk the streets in the neighborhood when my phone alerts me of a text. Stopping, I pull my phone out, and a smile appears on my face when I see who it’s from.

  Mills: Thanks for the entertaining night. Oh, and the orgasm this morning.

  Me: Is that all I’m good for?

  Mills: Not hardly, I’m sure you are good for more than bringing me pleasure.

  Me: I want to see you again…this week.

  Mills: Demanding, are we? Maybe… Maybe another night.

  Me: Who are you kidding, you can’t stay away.

  Mills: Confident, are we?

  Me: Yes. You know as well as I do, we can’t go long without seeing each other.

  Mills: You seem to be like mold I can’t get rid of. You’ve grown on me.

  Me: Certain body parts of mine seem to grow ‘hard’ around you.

  Mills: Your mind always seems to be in the gutter.

  Me: Only when you are concerned.

  Mills: Gotta go.

  The sidewalk is chaotic outside of Uniquely Inked. For the past hour, I’ve been walking the neighborhood handing out flyers, and talking to people as they stroll around The Piazza.

  Inside the shop, people are everywhere. Some seem to be taking in the artwork on the walls, while others are browsing portfolio books in the lobby.

  Goosebumps rise across my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck stands. I know she’s here before I turn around. She has this effect on me. When she speaks, her voice stops me in my tracks. “How’s everything going, Pops?”

  Why is she here? Does she know I work here? We’ve never discussed what we do for a living.

  My back is toward her, so I don’t think she realizes I’m here. I watch in the mirror on the wall by my station as she leans in and kisses Charles on his cheek. He pulls her in, hugging her close, leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Glad you made it over.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I had an appointment to finish. I’m done for the day. Figured I could help out here. The guys will be in and out in between their appointments. They’re excited for you too.”

  I watch as her eyes bounce around the room. “Excited for us.” Charles throws his arm across her shoulder. “Let me introduce you to the artists,” he says, guiding her toward Craig.

  When Mills stands in front of Craig, I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over her body. I make a mental note to let him know she’s spoken for.

  She extends her hand to his. He takes it, lifting it to his mouth and places a kiss on it. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Craig,” Charles ribs him. “You answer to her as much as me.”

  What the hell does he mean by that? Answer to Mills?

  Charles and Mills make their way around the room. My pulse quickens when I notice them approaching me. I feel her behind me. Every fiber in my body burns to life.

  When I turn around, Mills’ eyes widen, and her face fills with shock. I don’t extend my hand to her like the other artists have. Instead, I lean in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. The lips I kissed this morning when she left my apartment.

  Charles’ brows rise to his hairline in surprise. Mills steps back, putting distance between us.

  “I see you know my daughter.” Charles’ eyes bounce between us.

  Giving him a nod, a smile appears on my face. “Yes, I do. She’s quite lovely.”

  Mills doesn’t speak a word. Her lips form a sneer as she glares at me. If looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ashes in the middle of the shop. She reaches out, grabbing my arm with force. “I’d like a word with you privately.”

  Now it’s time for my eyebrows to raise. “What?”

  “Now!” she growls.

  “Can you excuse me?” I say politely to Charles.

  “Good luck with that.” He chuckles when Mills grabs my arm and pulls me down the hall into the drawing room, slamming the door behind her.

  “What the hell is this?” Her arms fly into the air.

  I lean lazily against the desk, crossing my ankles over each other. “What?” I ask nonchalantly.

  She’s fuming. Her eyes widen, and her face reddens. “Why are you here? Like here at Uniquely Inked?”

  “I work here.”

  Her eyes burn a hole into me. “You work here!” she yells. “I don’t fuck the help!”

  “Ouch.” I lift my hand over my heart. “Good thing I don’t have feelings or they may be hurt.”

  I walk toward her, and with one finger I tip her chin up to meet my stare. “Good thing I don’t work for you, or at your shop. So things should be fine.”

  She shakes her head rapidly. “No, this”—she lifts her finger, pointing between us—“stops now.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I say firmly. “You’re being ridiculous. No one knows about us.”

  “You just kissed me in front of the entire shop!” she yells. “What do you mean, no one knows? Are you an idiot? Are you listening to yourself?”

  I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. I tilt her head back. “Relax. You don’t work here. It won’t interfere with anything.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me you worked here.”

  “It’s not like the conversation of our employment ever came up. I had no idea Charles was your father or that you owned the place with him. It’s not like we have deep conversations when we’re to
gether.”

  She scoffs. “That’s right. All we do is fuck, right?”

  “I do more than fuck. I enjoy being with you. Spending time with you.”

  Mills rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “God, you’re such a pansy.”

  “What are you going to do, run in the opposite direction now? You were in my bed a few hours ago.”

  “This is a mistake.” She steps back and begins pacing. “This can’t continue. I have rules for a reason. I don’t sleep with people I work with. Hell, I don’t do repeats. One-night stands; that’s it.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, I fucked you more than once. So your rule on repeats goes out the window. You know as well as I do this isn’t a mistake. For your second rule, we don’t work in the same place.”

  I walk over and kiss her cheek, but when I pull away, she grabs my face. Mills tries to control her emotions, but her eyes betray her. “We can’t do this here.”

  “Do you plan on working here? At this shop?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’m staying at Novocain. Pops is running this shop. It was our agreement when we decided to expand.”

  “Then what we have going on shouldn’t interfere with anything. I’ll make sure to keep it respectful. I won’t kiss you in front of the employees here, but the minute you are out of their sight, game over. I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  She eyes me up and down, studying me. Her eyebrows furrow. “This goes against all my rules.”

  “Rules are meant to be broken, sweetheart.”

  My eyes travel up and down her body. She’s perfect. There’s no way in hell I’m letting our employment get in the way of exploring where this goes between us.

  Her eyes fall to my lips, then return to my eyes.

  “Keep it professional, Lee. I’m warning you. The minute you veer off track, this is over. No one can know about us.“

  “I’m no one’s dirty secret.”

  “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Oh, there’s something I wouldn’t mind putting in your mouth. But then this situation may get a little dirty back here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Juliette

  With my finger up, I point at Lee. “Rule number one. No PDA in this shop when I stop by.” I lift a second finger. “Rule number two. You are not to let on to anyone in this place we are sleeping together.”

  I glare at him. “I can’t believe you kissed me on the lips in front of my father, your employer.”

  Lee holds his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Did you think I was going to hold my hand out for you to shake it? You’re lucky I kissed you the way I did. It’s not like I lifted my leg and pissed on you to mark my territory.”

  “What?” I lift an eyebrow at him.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Like you didn’t notice the way Craig eye-fucked you out there?”

  Sighing, I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “He did no such thing.”

  “And you say I’m the insane one here. Mills, you claim you are good at reading people. If you didn’t see the way Craig was eyeing you, then you suck at it.”

  Lee moves toward me, lifting his hand, running his fingers through my short hair. “Relax. All joking aside. I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. I’ll be respectful. This is your place of business, as well as mine. What goes on between the two of us stays between us. There’s no need for anyone out there to know our business.”

  As I stare into his vibrant eyes, all I see is sincerity and honesty. We’re both to blame here. Not once did either of us take the opportunity to ask the other about their employment. Now it clicks. He’s in the industry, the dots have begun to connect. The pieces on his body are amazing, some of the best I’ve seen. Artists are finicky creatures. We usually only allow certain people to permanently mark us. All of my pieces have been done by either Pops or Zeke.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Your father told me you seemed well acquainted with one of the artists at Uniquely Inked,” Ma says, laughter in her voice.

  Walking out of my office, I reply, “Pops talks too much.”

  “Don’t be fresh, Juliette, he means well. He keeps me informed on what’s going on in your life.”

  “Don’t act like I don’t tell you things. He’s just around more often and sees it firsthand.”

  “It happened last week, and you’ve failed to mention the kiss in the shop,” she laughs. “I heard the fellow is very good-looking.”

  “He told you he kissed me? Ugh…” I groan. Reaching for my coffee at my station, I take a sip.

  “He did, and your father said Lee reminds him of a younger version of himself.”

  I run a hand over my face. “Oh, dear Lord.”

  “Maybe you can fill me in on him at dinner this weekend. You can bring Lee if you want.”

  My lips pinch together. I inhale deeply through my nose, hoping to let go of the frustration beginning to course through my body. This is why I don’t date. I don’t bring men home to meet my parents.

  I rub the back of my neck. “No, Ma. I won’t be bringing Lee. It’s not like that.”

  Rachel points at the clock, signaling my appointment is here. “Ma, I have to go, I have a three o’clock.” Nodding my head at Rachel, she leads one of my regulars to my station. “I’ll be there. Quinn said she’s tagging along.”

  “She’s always welcome. She knows that. And if you change your mind about Lee, you can bring him too.”

  “Talk to you soon. Love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetheart.”

  Pulling my phone back, I end the call.

  Great, now Ma knows about Lee. This just keeps getting better and better.

  When I left the shop the other day, I thought I could handle this thing with Lee. He’s stirring feelings inside me, ones I am not used to. The more I think about him kissing me in front of Pops, it pissed me off.

  Text messages fill the screen on my phone.

  Lee: Sorry I’ve been radio silent, things have been crazy at the shop.

  Me: No worries. Glad to hear things are great over there.

  Lee: Are you busy this weekend?

  Me: Sorry, I am. Appointments from open till close.

  Lee: Okay. Let me know when you are free.

  Me: Okay.

  Melanie and Abby arrived at the shop at ten o’clock. After sitting down and discussing what types of pieces they want and what they wish for them to represent, I drew up two kick-ass designs.

  “Who wants to go first?” I ask, walking over to my station. “I’ll pull another chair over so you can sit with each other and offer moral support.”

  Once the chair is in place, Abby sits on it. “Melanie can go first. I want to see how painful it is.”

  “Everyone’s pain tolerance is different. I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt. It’s more of a stinging sensation. But after a while, the area sort of goes numb and it doesn’t bother you as much. Hence the meaning behind the name of the shop.”

  Melanie sits at my station, laying her right arm out on the armrest.

  “This is what I’ve come up with. It’s a stencil. I’ll transfer to your arm once we determine the placement.”

  Melanie’s hand covers her mouth and tears fill her eyes. “I love it.”

  Once the stencil is placed, I begin. The handwritten font I chose is perfect to cover her scars, and the watercolor shading in the background complements the tattoo. The color melts into her skin and fades into it at the edges.

  With my last swipe, Melanie looks down with unshed tears in her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

  I’m not what I have done,

  I’m what I have overcome.

  “You don’t know how much this means to me. At the weakest point in my life, I didn’t want to live anymore. This was the only way I could manage my own pain.” She points to where her scars once were.

  “I understand more than you’ll ev
er know. Most go to great lengths to hide their behavior, not to mention the scars they cause.”

  Melanie stands. “Can I hug you?” she asks reluctantly.

  With a shrug of my shoulders, I reply, “Sure.” I’ve never had a client ask to hug me. Hell, why not.

  I understand the significant need to cover her scars. It’s not just about covering them up, it’s about redefining yourself.

  Melanie wraps her arms around me, squeezing me. “I love it.” She pulls back, and our eyes meet. “Thank you for being part of my healing process.”

  After going over the aftercare with Melanie, I wipe down my station and set up for Abby’s tattoo.

  Abby jumps when I snap my black rubber glove against my wrist. “Relax. Your piece is a lot of shading, so it will be less painful. The outline is what usually hurts the most.”

  Abby settled on a watercolor feather tattoo with subtle shading and gentle colors, yet vibrant hues. I colored it with lighter shading to create the appearance of a watercolor painting. I add a touch of bold blue at the bottom of the feather, making it more eye-catching. As the feather descends from the top, the blue fades into green, then yellow.

  “This watercolor tattoo can last up to twenty to thirty years without having to get any touchups.”

  “Really?”

  Abby sits through her appointment like a champ. She was jumpy at first but settled in nicely.

  “All done,” I say, pulling my gloves off.

  Abby jumps up, walking over to the full-length mirror. She had several scars going up her left forearm. The piece I designed covers them perfectly.

  “It’s exactly how I envisioned.” Abby’s voice fades as her eyes roam over her tattoo. Her smile broadens in approval, and her eyes widen as she leans in closer to the mirror, admiring the detail.