Love Restored (3 page)

“Technically, we work for the estate,” Graham mumbled.

“Now who’s acting like the little brother,” Murphy sneered. “Get your head out of your ass and apologize to her when you see her next. Because you know what? Not only is Owen right in the fact that this job
means
something, but you’re better than this.”

Graham sighed and ran his hand over his face. He needed that cigarette, beer, and woman again. Only when he thought of the woman, she saw Blake, and he held back a growl.

“She reminded me of someone, and I took it out on her.” He grunted. “I’ll apologize.”

“Damn straight you will,” Owen said as he stormed back in. “She’s gone, by the way. So maybe call her and leave a message to say how much of an asshole you are. Because there’s no way she’s coming back here, though I don’t know if that’s all because of you. And who the hell does she remind you of?” As soon as he said it, he closed his eyes and cursed.

Graham sighed. “Yeah. Her.” They all knew whom he was talking about.

“Jesus, this month is going to suck,” Murphy whispered under his breath.

Murphy wasn’t wrong. And yeah, Graham was an asshole. Because no matter whom Blake was, she wasn’t his ex-wife, and he needed to get that through his head. What made matters worse—he hadn’t minded the fact that Candice was a trust fund baby when they were married.

It was only when their world had crashed down around him that it had become an issue.

An issue he would do anything to forget.

But nightmares never faded, and Graham knew that better than anyone.

Even twenty-four hours after stepping onto the grounds she’d never wanted to see again, Blake Brennen wanted to punch the smug smile off that annoyingly hot, bearded man’s face. Usually, assholes took a minute or two to show their true colors, and yet, this Graham Gallagher didn’t even bother to wait that long.

It could be that she was a magnet for those idiots, but she’d like to think it wasn’t her; instead, those guys were assholes to everyone they met. Or in her case, asses before they’d even spoken one word to her, considering Graham had already formed an opinion—a completely incorrect one—about her when she hadn’t even been in the freaking room.

Whatever.
She sighed. She wouldn’t have to see him or his glare again because she wouldn’t be stepping one foot onto that property again. Good radiance to bad memories, bad tastes, broken dreams, and broken foundations. And if she had to speak to a Gallagher about something to do with the estate, it would be with the pleasant Owen.

He wasn’t an asshole.

At least, not to her face.

“Are you going to sit there and wallow, or are you going to actually work today?” Maya Montgomery asked as she leaned a hip against the side of Blake’s temporary station. The other woman’s brow rose, the tiny metal hoop glittering under the overhead lights. “I mean, you’re welcome to wallow before your first piercing appointment of the day, or you can take that walk-in standing at the front, who wants a tiny butterfly outline on her hip. I thought you wanted to make money, but if you don’t, no skin off my back.”

Blake snorted and stood up so she could stretch her lower back. “You’re getting moody, Maya,” she said with a smile. “Must be the pregnancy hormones.” 

Maya flipped her off before running a hand over her still flat belly. “I’m not that far along, you know. The hormones don’t start kicking in until later.”

Blake just smiled and shook her head. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself at night so you can make it through the day, more power to you.”

Maya tilted her head, studying the other woman. Maya always had an uncanny knack for seeing beyond the layers Blake wore to protect herself. And that was something Blake needed to be cautious of. “Why? Do you know something about it?”

Blake shrugged, keeping her attention on her sketchbook in front of her as she gathered her things to go deal with the walk-in. “I watch TV. I know things.” Not quite a lie, but as she didn’t know Maya or the rest of Montgomery Ink all that well yet, some things were better tucked close to the vest.

She’d learned the hard way before what happened when she was too open, too fast. Money spoke, and people betrayed with the drop of a hat, leaving Blake the one in pain, bleeding on the floor.

She shook off the memories and worries that had no place in this particular shop and rolled her shoulders.

“So, she wants an outline of a butterfly, not the whole thing filled in?” Blake asked, changing the subject. From the look in Maya’s eyes, she hadn’t done a very good job being subtle about it, but there was nothing she could do now.

“Just the outline,” Maya answered. “From where she wants it and the size she indicated with her hand, I think that’s the right idea anyway. But ask her just in case.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “No, I was planning to drag her over here by her hair and tattoo something without even speaking to her. Because that’s how I roll.”

“At least, you fit the part of a tattoo artist and piercer now,” Maya said dryly while looking Blake up and down. “You want to tell me why you showed up yesterday in that banker outfit before you changed in the back? I mean, really, I never would have pegged you for a suit and heel kind of girl. Well, maybe the heels, but the suit? Not so much.”

Blake stiffened. She hadn’t realized Maya had seen her when she’d hurried back into the shop after leaving the estate. Because she’d been running late in the first place, she hadn’t had time to stop anywhere and change into her normal attire before work. As it was, she’d been ten minutes late, and had almost missed a piercing appointment. That was so not like her, but it wasn’t as if that morning had been normal.

 She’d worn the suit to fit in, not because she’d wanted to. It had taken entirely too long for her to find the old jacket and skirt she kept in the back of her closet. Thankfully, she hadn’t gained that much weight since she’d worn it last. It had been a decade or so, but the curves she wore now had only made the skirt ride up a bit indecently.

She could clearly remember the way Graham’s gaze had traveled up her legs and settled on her thighs. Even though she’d been angry as hell with him, she’d still pictured her legs wrapped around his neck as he got her off. And then she’d imagined him turning her around, gripping her hips as he pushed the material up so he could pound into her hard from behind.

Hell, she wasn’t that woman anymore. Hadn’t been for the decade she’d hidden that suit in the back of her closet.

She’d only worn the damn thing because showing up in low-cut jeans and a tank that ordered the observer to kiss her ink suggestively probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Though she wanted nothing to do with the estate and the Gallagher brothers, she’d be damned if she embarrassed herself by showing up as she was, rather than with the veneer in place that had helped her hide for all these years.

Of course, with one look at Graham, she was pretty sure those layers—as well as the suit—would be stripped away if she weren’t careful.

She wished the will had let her choose the company to work on the estate. She knew the Montgomerys, and though they would have been able to find out some of her past, she trusted those in that branch of the family company to keep their lips shut.

Of course, now that she thought about it, maybe working with the Gallaghers would be better. They didn’t know her at all and didn’t have any connection to her. They wouldn’t be blabbing her business and the past she’d rather keep hidden to the others in her life. It wasn’t easy keeping secrets from those in the shop, though. They tended to notice
everything
.

She’d thought when she hurried into the shop after leaving the estate that she’d hidden her suit well enough for no one to see her. And since no one had mentioned it the entire day she’d worked, she figured she’d gotten off scot-free.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Maya Montgomery knew everything, and sometimes, even before it happened.

And that was one scary thought.

“You didn’t like my legs in that suit?” Blake asked, batting her eyelashes. “I mean, I thought they looked hot as hell. But if you have issues with it, maybe I should reconsider the banker suit I’m planning to wear tomorrow.”

“You’re an idiot,” Maya grumbled. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because, despite popular opinion, you don’t actually need to know everything going on in everyone’s lives at all times.”

Maya snorted. “That’s only going to make me more curious.”

That would be a problem if Blake planned to go back to the estate. But since she’d signed the paperwork, she’d done her duty. Now, the rest was up to the lawyers.

“Have at it, but sometimes, a suit is just a suit.”

Maya narrowed her eyes.

Blake blinked innocently back.

Maya flipped her off, and Blake did it right back with a smile. When Maya laughed and strolled back to her station, Blake was still smiling. She might be the new one in the shop, but she could feel the edges of the home she could have if she stayed long enough. These could be her people, and for some reason, that scared Blake more than she’d thought it would.

Once again, she shook off thoughts she’d rather not have and made her way to the younger girl standing at the front of the shop, browsing some of the stenciled designs hanging in pretty frames on the walls.

“Hey, I’m Blake. I hear you want a butterfly tattoo?”

The girl turned, her eyes wide, but it didn’t look like fear so that had to count for something. Blake couldn’t count the number of times people came in for a new piercing or ink and freaked out before they’d even gotten into the chair. And frankly, she was glad for that, considering ink was permanent, and piercings were one step below that. Body modification wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

“That’s right,” the girl said and gave her a little wave. Blake’s smile deepened as the girl blushed. “Uh, sorry. I uh, didn’t know if this was a handshake situation so I waved like a dork.” The girl closed her eyes and let out a breath before opening her lids once more. “Hi, I’m Kennedy, and I’d like a butterfly outline on my hip.”

“Hi, Kennedy. Can I ask how old you are?” She didn’t look older than eighteen, and while Blake trusted Maya to check Kennedy’s age, she wanted to be sure.

“I’m twenty-three,” Kennedy answered, her blush matching the red of her hair. “I know I don’t look it, and the whole nervous blushing thing doesn’t really help, but yeah, I’m older than I look.”

Blake let out a low whistle. “I’ll say.”

“I already checked her age,” Maya said from her station as she pored over a notebook, pencil in hand. “Those genes are going to do you well when you’re our age,” she said to Kennedy, and Blake scowled.

“Way to make me feel ancient,” Blake muttered.

“All in a day’s work,” Maya said with a smile. “But if you’ll notice, I did say
our
age.”

Kennedy’s gaze shot between Blake and Maya, her eyes widening even more. “Uh…did I miss something?”

Blake shook her head. “Nah, my boss just likes to rib.”

“As I’m the one that signs your paychecks, I feel it’s my duty,” Maya said, her attention on her notebook and not them. “But I’d get to it, Blake. You have a piercing appointment soon.”

Blake let out a sigh and nodded toward her station. “Let’s get to it, then. My chair is in the back.”

Kennedy followed her silently and sat down on the convertible chair in Blake’s station, her hands folded on her lap.

“So,” Blake began as she sat on her stool, her sketchpad in hand. “You want an outline of a butterfly on your hip. Is there significance, or is it because it’s pretty?”

Kennedy smiled softly and pulled a piece of paper out of her bag. “I had cancer when I was a kid and was a little late with the whole growing thing because of it. So rather than get a caterpillar like the old me, I want something to show that I’ve grown. Changed. And I want it on my hip because it’s for me.” She blushed again. “And, well, for whoever I’m intimate enough with for them to see that part of me.”

Blake blinked back tears. Hell, this was the part of the job she both loved and hated. Sometimes, it was okay for ink to look pretty because that’s how you felt at the time and you didn’t need the weighty significance that so many other pieces had. However, the fact that this would be both to Kennedy meant something.

“And I want it that small because it needs to fit under a bathing suit, you know?” Kennedy continued.

“Just the outline will work for the size, then. That way, it’s not too detailed to the point you can’t really tell what it is.” That was the problem with a lot of small tattoos. People didn’t want to go crazy with the size, but they wanted the kind of detail you could only get in a larger piece. There were ways to get around that, of course, but Blake preferred working with what made the ink better in any case.

“That was my thought, too,” Kennedy said with a bright smile. “And, well, I want it to be an outline because I’m not finished yet either. It gives it space to be anything it wants.” She paused. “Just like I want to be.”

Blake swiped a tear as Kennedy did the same and cursed herself for letting that emotion show. This was her
job,
and she needed to remember to hold it in, or she’d do something monumentally stupid and rely on someone again. She’d rather not risk that, thank you very much.

“I think that sounds like a perfect tattoo for you. Well thought out and something that will be just for you. At least, until you’re ready to show it off.” Blake winked, causing both of them to laugh softly. “Have you ever had a tattoo before?”

Kennedy shook her head. “No, this will be my first one.”

“A virgin, then,” Blake said as she took the paper from Kennedy’s grip.

The other woman snorted. “Sure. We can go with that.”

Ah, not so innocent. Blake liked Kennedy already. She opened the folded paper to see a computer printed version of a butterfly outline and nodded.

“I can work with this and add a little to the outsides so it’s unique to you,” Blake said as she studied the way the curves of the wings made it look like it was fluttering. Compared to some of the things customers brought in, this wasn’t bad at all.