All the Pretty Lies (12 page)

She laughs, a husky, suggestive sound that
makes me want to die.

“Ohhh,” I say. If she’s gonna drop the act,
there’s no reason for me to pussyfoot around either. “So mixing
business with pleasure, about two years, but straight up business,
a lot less. Is that about it?” I add a smile, so that I don’t seem
envious. Or vicious. Both of which I feel.

“That sounds about right.”

“Well, I guess it won’t take me very long
then.” It hurts to admit it, but I know when I’ve been beat. And I
refuse to let this woman think I give a rat’s ass.

Even though I do.

“I wouldn’t count on it, sweetie. Hemi likes
to mix business and pleasure. And he’s a hard one to resist.”

“Is that why you’re back?” I ask bluntly.
When she jerks her head toward me, I smile again. “I mean, I’m sure
he
is
hard to resist.”

“I don’t think I introduced myself, did I?”
she muses, ignoring my question. “I’m Sasha. I’ll be filling in for
a little while.”

I could hug Hemi when he walks through the
front door. I’m not sure I could keep up pretenses for one more
second. If that’s what I was even doing. Whatever it was, I feel
sure she saw right through it.

“Sorry I’m late, Sloane,” Hemi says, heading
straight for his cubby. “Come on back. I’ve got an appointment in a
few minutes. She wants an original. Thought we’d work on it before
she gets here.”

“Sounds good,” I say, standing and pushing my
stool back out of the way. I glance down at Sasha. She’s eyeing
Hemi. I’m wondering if she’s insulted that he didn’t acknowledge
her. Just the thought of that makes my smile a little brighter.
“Nice to meet you, Sasha.”

“You, too, sweetie. I’ll see you around. I’m
not going anywhere.”

If I’d been inclined to think for even a
fraction of a second that Sasha was no threat, I would’ve been
wrong. But I was also wrong about not being able to compete with a
girl like that. Not that Hemi coming in and ignoring her means
anything—maybe he saw her before he left. It’s
her
reaction
that gives me hope. Why would she feel the least bit threatened by
me if there was no reason to be?

Is that crazy logic?
I think to myself
as I slide my purse under the counter where Hemi told me to put
it.

Maybe. But it’s logic that makes me feel a
little better about being here. And about my chances. So, flawed or
not, I’ll take it.

Maybe Sasha doesn’t have this all wrapped up
after all.

********

It’s been three weeks since I started
sketching at The Ink Stain. Three weeks of being around Hemi. Three
weeks of run-ins with Sasha. Three weeks of seeing whatever might
have been blossoming between us…stall.

Tonight, I’m gonna try to kick it back into
gear, though. Or at least see if there’s anything
to
kick
back into gear. Sasha isn’t working, Hemi said the schedule is
light and, if there aren’t a lot of walk-ins, he said he would work
on finishing my tattoo. Just the thought of his hands on my body
again…

Ohmigod!

It’s the first night I’ve been anxious to get
to the studio since that very first one, the one that began a
downward spiral of disappointing nights. But not tonight. Tonight
it’ll just be me and Hemi. I’ll get to see where we stand and how
he acts when Sasha isn’t around.

He doesn’t flirt with her even when I’m
there. It’s more like he’s just grouchy yet polite. She takes it in
stride. I’m sure she knows
why
he’s grouchy. After all, it
didn’t start until she showed up. I don’t know what’s going on
between those two, but it seems more like history and baggage than
anything current.

Of course, that could be wishful thinking on
my part, too.

Frick!

When I arrive, Hemi is waiting for me at the
counter. “How would you feel about sketching out here for a little
while? Maybe fielding anyone that comes in? I’ve got a client in
back that I need to do some color touch-ups for.”

I try not to feel too deflated and I give him
a smile. “That’s fine. Anything particular you want me to
sketch?”

“Yes. The one that you drew on my side. I
want you to sketch it out so we can make a stencil. I’ll be your
first subject.”

My mouth falls open. “You’re joking,
right?”

He smiles. For the first time in forever, it
seems. “No, I’m not joking.”

“Tonight?”

“No. Tonight maybe I can finish yours.”
Yes!
“Maybe the next time you work you can start it.”

“Okay. If you’re fine with it then…”

I grab some paper from beneath the counter
and scoot up onto the stationary stool that sits back there. Hemi
starts to walk off, but then stops just this side of the
doorway.

“Sloane,” he begins. When he doesn’t
continue, I look up. He holds my eyes for several long seconds
before he speaks. “Take it as a compliment. It means I trust
you.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to
say.

Hemi winks at me and then disappears into the
next room. One more time, like a stubborn phoenix that refuses to
stay burned to ash, hope rises.

********

It’s finally time. Everyone is gone from the
shop, clients and artists alike, and it’s just me and Hemi.
Alone.

And he’s going to finish my tattoo.

I’m nervous. I don’t know why this feels like
so much more than a tattoo. I guess, in my head, I’m giving him one
last chance to show me he still wants me before I kill off any and
all hope I had for us. And I’m praying he comes through.

“So, where do you want me?” I ask.

“Oh, right. Your butterflies. Ummm,” he
murmurs, wrinkling his brow in thought. “How high do you want them
to go?”

“Well, my last one is right here,” I say,
pointing through my clothes to the area right at the lower edge of
my bra strap. “I think maybe three or four more up to here.” I
indicate the place just south of my arm pit. I
know
what I’m
asking. The question is: Will Hemi?

“Okay, to go that high I’ll need you out of
your clothes on that side. I can’t move straps and material aside
to work up in there. It’ll crowd my hand.”

His tone is matter of fact. My stomach is
not.

“And we want those hands free to work,” I
tease. Hemi says nothing, but he raises that one pierced brow. A
shiver runs through me. I clear my throat. “That’s fine. I can just
take off my top and use a drape, if that’s all right with you.”

There’s a long pause before he says anything.
“That’s fine. However you’re most comfortable.”

I nod and smile before I turn around and head
for the dressing room. I take off my shirt and bra, and slip the
loose-fitting drape over my head. It’s split up both sides so that
it’s basically just a big flap that falls over my chest and back. I
check my reflection, hoping that Hemi doesn’t make note of my
flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. I take a deep, calming breath
before I open the door and make my way back to Hemi.

“Okay, ready when you are,” I announce to
Hemi, who is standing at the table with his back to me. He glances
over his shoulder, his eyes drifting over my upper body. I see the
muscle in his jaw flex before he turns back around.

“Hop up there. On your side please.” I do as
he asks, my gut jittery with nerves. I stretch out, baring my right
side, tucking the drape around my breast modestly. When Hemi turns
back around to face me, he stops and just watches me for a few
seconds before he comes forward to take his seat in front of me. I
see his eyebrows come together in a small frown and I wonder what
put it there—me, the situation? Is he resisting? Is he just not
into it? Not into
me
anymore?

I close my eyes and stretch my arm up over my
head, pushing all those doubts aside as Hemi preps my skin. One way
or the other, I’m about to find out.

“So,” he begins, making my heart thunder
inside my chest.
Here we go…
“tell me more about your
brothers. You said the one at the bar was…was it Steven? He’s the
oldest, you said? He must be pretty protective.”

My hopes and my heart plummet. This isn’t
at all
what I’d hoped for. “Uh, yeah. He’s very protective.
They all are.”

“Seems like he’s the only one without an
unusual name. Doesn’t he have a nickname or something?”

“No. He’s too straitlaced for that kind of
thing. I don’t think his partner even has a nickname for him.”

“What’s his partner’s name?”

“Duncan.”

“That’s pretty normal, too. Very
interesting.”

Hemi falls quiet as he gets ready to start
working. I don’t quite know how to react to this—the lack of
response, the devastating disappointment, the humiliation. And yes,
there’s
plenty
of humiliation. I feel like I’ve been
tricked, like he flirted with me just enough to get me hooked and
then he just…left. Emotionally. And now
I’m
left…wanting.

I say nothing. I can’t seem to drum up the
enthusiasm for small talk. I just want this to be over so I can go
home and bury my face.

“You must know a lot of their cop friends, I
bet,” Hemi says when he finally starts to talk again.

“Yeah,” I answer vaguely. I feel like
screaming!

“Did I hear one of ‘em call the other
‘Tumblin’ one night?”

“I don’t know. The only Tumblin I know of is
the street where my brother used to live. I don’t think I’ve ever
heard a cop being called that.”

“Oh, shit! A street,” Hemi exclaims oddly.
“Well, I guess that makes more sense.”

I don’t respond. I have no idea what the hell
he’s mumbling about, and at this point, I don’t really care. I’m
torn between being upset over rejection and being really pissed off
over being misled. It’s not making me very keen on chit chat.

Hemi hits a particularly sensitive spot and I
yelp. “Ouch! Holy shit, that hurts!”

Hemi stops inking immediately. “I’m sorry,”
he says sincerely. “Are you all right?” He’s standing over me now,
leaning down to look at my face where it’s half-covered by my
raised arm.

“I’m fine. I just…I think you just hit a
tender spot. Maybe this should be the last one. My skin might be
too sensitive to go up any farther.”

Oh, how true those words really are!

Hemi rubs his palm along my arm. “Hey, are
you sure you’re all right?”

His dark lagoon-blue eyes are searching mine.
For the first time all night, he seems to really
see
me. And
it only makes things that much worse.

“I’m fine.”

“Can I finish shading this one last
butterfly? I’ll be as gentle as I can. I think you’ll like it much
better if you’ll let me finish.”

After everything, he still makes me feel like
putty. “Okay. Just this one.”

He bends his head and kisses my forearm.
“I’ll be easy. It won’t hurt. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Hemi smiles down at me. “I don’t.”

Yes, you do. Everyone does. Except me.

He sits back down on his chair and resumes
shading. I’m braced for it to sting, but it never does. Maybe Hemi
really doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

Or maybe he just doesn’t make many promises
at all.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- Hemi

Impatiently, I listen to the muted ring at
the other end of the line. “Dammit, Reese, pick up!”

When I hear the click of the voice mail
picking up, I hang up and hit redial. I’m gonna bug the shit out of
him until he answers.

“Hello?” a sultry feminine voice greets after
the second ring.

“Uh, is Reese there?” I ask, wondering if
I’ve been dialing the wrong number all along, but knowing I haven’t
because I selected it from my list of contacts. No, this
has to
be
Reese’s number.

“He’s in the shower. Can I take a
message?”

“Just tell him—”

I stop, mid-sentence, when I hear my
brother’s angry voice in the background. “What the hell are you
doing?”

I hear the woman explain. “I got tired of
listening to it ring.”

“Get your clothes and get out,” Reese demands
coldly.

Ouch!

My brother has an unquenchable thirst for
women, just like I do (just like
all
the Spencer men do, in
fact), but he has no tolerance for any of them getting close to
him, or dabbling in his business or his life. If I keep them at
arm’s length, he keeps them at football-field length. He’s a cold
bastard, but he’s my brother and I know what made him that way.

After a minute or two of listening to her
apologize and beg, and then hearing her muffled crying (Reese put
his hand over the mouthpiece), I finally hear his voice and
only
his voice. No more woman.

“What is it?”

“It’s me,” I say briefly. “It’s him. I found
him. I know it’s him.”

“You did? How do you know?”

“I made the connection. His younger sister,
Sloane, the girl I was telling you about, told me he used to live
on Tumblin Street. That’s the missing piece. It’s him, Reese. We
finally found him.”

“I’ll be damned,” he whispers. “I’ll put the
word out. Start looking into him. It won’t be long now.”

“Let me know,” I say, feeling a sigh of
relief build in my chest.

“I will,” Reese promises. “Good work,
Hemi.”

“I told you I’d find him.”

“Yeah, you did. Thanks, man.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know. He’d thank you if he was here.”

“I know,” I admit, closing my eyes. “I
know.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN- Sloane

“So you’re not going back?” Sarah asks.

I sigh as I look out the window, watching the
landscape fly by in a blur of color. “I don’t really want to.”

“Then don’t. Eff him!”

“I probably should, though. I mean, it
is
part of my schedule now. Since I had him fill out those
damn papers.” I could still kick myself for that. “Plus, I don’t
want him to think he can run me off that easy.”