Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (15 page)

Blair rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to freak. Tell me what I obviously missed.”

Cassidy’s sigh was so loud it caused static. “Every year the oldest living May queen in Celebration chooses the new one. For the past twenty years or something, that’s been my grandma. You know her?”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of her.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s really important to her, and she keeps the garland locked up at the library. You know, a circle for your head, like a crown thing?”

Kaley nodded, her eyes wide. “And last year? She was
super
pissed because the town planner dude forgot all about it and he skipped right over the ceremony and went straight to the lame-o Maypole.”

“No queen. It totally sucked. You better get over to the library,” Cassidy chimed in.

Blair let out a long breath. “Okay. It would have been nice if somebody had told me, but okay. You know the phone number?”

Cassidy giggled. “Oh she won’t answer. She sets it to voice mail at four thirty so she can get ready to close up at five.”

Blair looked at her watch again. “Great. That gives me ten minutes. Kaley, get to work on those ribbons. I want twenty sets of braids, thirty feet long each. And dig through the extra flowers and twine some of them into the ribbons. I was going to do that myself, but I don’t have time tonight.”

“Nervous about your date with the tattoo hottie?” Kaley asked with a smirk.

Blair shook her head.

“Ask him to show you his tattoo chair. I heard it reclines.”

Blair narrowed her eyes. “Braid ribbon.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran out the door, jogged across the alley and ducked into the second one—the kissing alley, as she’d started calling it, but only to herself. The crack of sky between the buildings was robin’s-egg blue, the late-afternoon sun warmed the concrete underneath her ballet flats and she inhaled deeply of the spring air. It smelled like clean dirt, if there was such a thing. With a smile, she emerged on the sidewalk and promptly shrieked.

Ben stood less than two feet away, a shoulder propped against the brick facade corner. He grinned at her. “Running away from our date?”

“What the hell are you
doing
right there?” She clapped a hand to her chest.

“Nothing. Didn’t you see me emptying trash into the alley Dumpster thirty seconds ago? Guess not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Obviously not,” she concurred.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, and brushed a curl back from the spaghetti strap of her dress. Her face heated. She loved the pale green dress—so silky and swishy, and while it was a bit chilly to be wearing it, she
knew
it looked good, especially because of the way it clung to her breasts. She’d worn it for him.

Her heart thumped and her breath caught—she was going to spend the next few hours with him. He wore a black button-down shirt and a black leather blazer with his jeans. God, he looked amazing—and he smelled as good as spring. Clean. Earthy…and still smiling at her, his deep brown eyes lit from within.

She swallowed. “I’m not running away. I’m headed for the library before Mildred Parkett closes up. Be back in a few.” She glanced away, wishing she’d taken thirty seconds to sweep on some mascara and lipstick before she’d bolted out of the trailer.

He pushed away from the wall. “I’ll come with.”

“That’s okay. I’ll—”

“Good. Glad it’s okay.” Ben slipped his hand into hers and tugged her across the street. “We’ll take the short cut.”

Blair didn’t protest. It felt good to be touching him, although it would probably take all of thirty seconds for someone to spot them, walk into the Lovin’ Cup, and trumpet the news for thirty more people to hear. She sighed. Not that she really cared. Well, she did care, because they weren’t officially dating, and she didn’t want to have to deal with the gossip. Maybe after tonight they would be dating, but…God. She was nervous.

The last time she’d dated had been over a year ago, and it had consisted of her getting way overdressed to sit crammed in a booth in a tiny Thai restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen while the guy who’d asked her out during a subway ride earlier in the week sat across from her and slurped noodles. She’d been awkward and the conversation had been worse.

At least tonight, there would be a buffer with Ivy and Marcus along. She needed that buffer, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted it. She wanted to kiss Ben again. She only felt truly
right
when his arms were around her. But did he feel that same intensity? Did he realize the effect he had on her?

As if sensing her anxiety, Ben squeezed her hand. “Blair?”

“Yes?” She squeezed it back and glanced up.

“Why are we going to the library?” He gave her a crooked smile.

She sighed. “To take delivery of the famed May queen head wreath, why else?”

He chuckled and slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Of course. I should have known that. So who’s the lucky recipient of the crown?”

“That’s up to Mildred,” Blair answered as the stepped onto the sidewalk on the other side of the commons. “As long as it’s not me, it’s all good.” She smiled and swung his hand. He took a giant step forward and turned around, grabbed both of her hands, and pulled her close.

“You’d be gorgeous with flowers in that hair,” he murmured and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. She leaned into him, one second away from letting that cheek sink onto his chest, but at Ben’s glance over her head, she turned and looked across Main Street.

A few people standing outside the Lovin’ Cup waved. One of them, a wizened, old man, glared. “Get a room, for God’s sake,” he snapped. “Nobody wants to watch that crap.”

“You’ll get over it.” Ben yelled back and his chest shook as he laughed, which served only to press her breasts close to it. She took a step back. “Who’s that old guy?” she whispered.

“Herman Weaver.” Ben began walking again, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. “Believe it or not, he’s Marcus’s uncle.”

Blair raised a brow. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. He grinned at her and then pointed. “We better step on it. Looks like you’re almost out of luck.”

Blair looked down the street and saw a white-haired woman with a tote bag waddling down the steps of the library. “Oh, Jesus. Let’s go!”

She began running, pulling a chuckling Ben behind her. A minute later, they skidded to a halt on the sidewalk next to an old Buick, which was about to pull away from the curb. Breathless, Blair tapped on the passenger window. “Mildred?”

The stout woman inside the car jumped about a foot and then glared. The automatic window rolled down. “Are you trying to sink me into my grave, young lady?”

“So sorry,” Blair said, bending down and peering inside. “I’m Blair Whitaker, the new events planner for Celebration. I’m here to pick up the May queen garland.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Oh, you are, are you?”

“Yes,” Blair answered in a tone that came out a bit clipped.

Ben nudged her. “Ms. Mildred,” he whispered.

“Yes, Ms. Mildred,” Blair amended.

Mildred Parkett let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, all right. I suppose that would be fine.” She turned off the engine and heaved herself out of the car. “Follow me.” She stomped back onto the sidewalk, swaying from side to side as she waddled back up the steps of the library.

Blair glanced at Ben, whose face was red. His shoulders shook and she elbowed him. “Stop it, or I’ll start laughing, too.”

He snorted then and Mildred wheeled around. “What’s wrong with him?” She didn’t wait for a response. “If you ask me, all these young men who get those horrid tattoos and piercings all over the place, they don’t have the common sense God gave a brick.”

“Ben doesn’t have any piercings,” Blair said quickly. She glanced at him and he shook his head. “No piercings. But plenty of common sense.”

Mildred gave Ben a long, appraising glance. “Oh he does, does he?”

“I do,” Ben said with a mostly straight face.

Mildred sniffed. “We’ll see.” She unlocked the door and weaved around the cramped main area of the library. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sun and Blair held back a sneeze as she followed the older woman through a door behind the checkout counter and into a small back office. Mildred reached into the bottom drawer of a desk and pulled out an old cardboard hatbox.

“Now, I know it’s seen better days, so you have my permission to spruce it up a little.” She held up a plump finger. “Only a
little
.” Lifting the disintegrating top from the box, she pulled out a dented circle of drooping, faded plastic flowers, the kind of flowers a person would see placed on a grave.

Blair gritted her teeth into a smile. “Oh. What a surprise. It’s lovely.”

Mildred beamed and held the thing out as if she was presenting a ten-carat diamond. “I was crowned with this on the fourth of May in 1961. My Earl proposed to me ten minutes later. It’s magic,” she said in a breathy voice. “Here, try it on.”

Blair didn’t know about magic, but she knew for sure that she didn’t want a marriage-proposal-inducing crown on her head. Did she?

“That’s really sweet, but…”

Behind her, Ben shifted and placed his hand on the small of her back. He leaned over her shoulder, took the garland, and set it on top of Blair’s hair. “Gorgeous,” he whispered.

Mildred looked her over with a critical eye. “Hm. Nope. You’re not the May queen, sorry.” She heaved herself up and walked to the door of the office, motioning for them to follow, gasping when Blair quickly pulled the dented circle from her head and untangled a strand of hair from a dust-caked tulip. “Be
careful
with it, for heaven’s sake.”

Ben coughed. “We’re supposed to meet Ivy and Marcus in fifteen minutes,” he murmured.

Blair groaned. Crap! She had Kaley to check up on, a crown to repair and a—

Her phone dinged. Blair pulled it out of her pocket and checked the screen, her stomach dropping with disappointment. “Actually…Ivy just canceled. Something about a crisis at the senior center.”

Ben frowned. “What is it?”

The phone dinged again. “Hang on.” Blair carefully set the flowers back in the hatbox and read the text message Ivy aloud. “My gramma and your Aunt Lola ransacked the kitchen. Popcorn everywhere. Better come on out.” Her eyes wide, she looked up at Ben. “Holy—”

“Cannoli,” he finished. “Rain check on the double date?”

Chapter Fourteen

When they arrived at the senior center, it was to the sight of one very pissed-off Marcus, who paced in front of a pair of floral planters, his suit front smeared with whipped cream. After a few rapid strides, he threw up his hands, jerked open the double doors of the main entrance, and disappeared inside the well-lit interior.

A few seconds later, Ivy poked her head out of the same doors and motioned for Ben to roll down his truck window.

“Hey. I’m a mess,” she said. “I’m going up to my gramma’s apartment to change into…something Gramma style.” She laughed, but Ben could tell that she was none too pleased, either. “Sorry about our double date,” she continued, “you want to go out next weekend? The movie should still be playing in Syracuse.”

Ben turned to Blair. “Yeah?” She grinned in response, and he leaned out the window. “Sure, but how about we meet in Syracuse somewhere?”

Ivy widened her eyes. “Excellent idea. And I’ll sneak Marcus’s phone beforehand and put it on silent. He doesn’t need to babysit Sunnyside twenty-four-seven.”

Ben chuckled as he rolled up his window and drove through the parking lot. He liked Marcus, but the guy ought to loosen up once in a while. Marcus worked too hard, but then again, so did Ivy. Somehow, though, they made an amazing team and had managed to accomplish a lot in the last year. The Sunnyside Retirement Center was testament to that.

Comprised of at least two dozen cottages and a central recreation building with four stories of attached apartments, it was a great addition to the town, and business had picked up as a result. Except for his, although he had tattooed a handful of seniors. He chuckled again as he parked the truck, remembering his last customer from Sunnyside. It had been old Vern Tinsley, who was so fat he barely fit on the tattoo chair.

“What’s so funny?” Blair asked as she unbuckled her seat belt.

He opened his door. “Didn’t you see Marcus’s suit?”

“No. I was too busy looking at this place. It’s really nice. Eventually, I guess Lola will be moving out here, since Bill is buying a cottage.”

And where will you be, Blair?

Ben wanted to ask, but he didn’t.

She smiled at him, pushing away a curl from her shoulder. “I hope she’ll be happy with him.”

“Yeah.” In the dim light provided by the dome light of the truck, Ben stared at her for a second, drinking in the soft curve of her jaw and the even-softer curve of her breasts under that amazing dress. “Happiness can be fleeting,” he said slowly. “But I hope so, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and she hesitated a second before sliding out of his truck. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he repeated and then followed her across the smooth parking lot to the entrance of the main building. “Cafeteria’s in the back, though,” he called. “There’s a side entrance.”

She turned around, stopping. “How do you know?”

“I eat there sometimes,” he said with a grin. When she raised an eyebrow, he held up his hands. “Don’t judge. It’s good food and open to the public.”

“Better than the diner?”

He nodded. “Don’t tell Crystal that, though. She’d dump an order of fries over my head.”

“I won’t.” She wrinkled her nose and he stared at it, fascinated. “She seems like a good person. I don’t really know her, but I think I like her,” she added.

“So do I,” he agreed.

Blair started walking again and after a second, she glanced over her shoulder. “Did you two ever…”

“No.” He winked at her, satisfaction spreading through him when her lips parted again.

If they weren’t about to arbitrate an old lady throw down, he would take Blair by the shoulders and cover those lips with his mouth. Right out here on the sidewalk, give the seniors a thrill. And him, too. More than a thrill. Because when he kissed her, the rest of the world melted away and he felt right. Whole.

He couldn’t lose that feeling. It was too perfect, too…invaluable, really. But he was worried, really worried about sticking Blair with Starling. There was no getting around it, though. Not with Starling starting work tomorrow as a guest artist in his studio.

As Blair walked in front of him, he watched the sway of her long hair, which even in the dim light caught rays of the setting sun and shimmered with a soft red glow. He wanted to sink his fingers into it, wrap it around them both like a curtain, and make her his.

Blair looked over her shoulder again with a wry smile. “Maybe we should have grabbed some rain coats or something to use as a shield.”

He swept his gaze over her, knowing he looked like an infatuated fool. “I think you’d look really sexy wearing a trash bag with a head hole.”

He was rewarded with a burst of laughter and a shove to his shoulder. Automatically, he reached up and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Let’s go put out the fire, Firefly,” he said gruffly.

“You mean between Lola and Colleen?” She arched an eyebrow but didn’t pull away.

“Uh, yeah.” He stared at her for a second and then released her hand to haul open the glass door leading to the cafeteria lobby. “But the other…”

“One thing at a time,” she whispered, running her hand down his back before stepping around him and walking into the room.

The smell of roasting turkey made his mouth water, but then his nostrils were hit by another scent—burned microwave popcorn. It was unmistakable. A clanging noise sounded from the kitchen, followed by angry shouts and a few choice curse words. Ben looked around the dining room at the sea of white hair. None of them even looked up. They chatted and ate turkey, as if foul language and the stench of burned popcorn were par for the course at a retirement home.

“What have those ladies done?” Blair wrinkled her nose and then sighed. “Let’s dive in.”

As Ben watched—he
did
love to watch her walk—she weaved her way around circular tables and pushed open the metal doors to the kitchen.

“Oh, Jesus,” she said on a whoosh of breath. And then, “Lola! Put those tongs down!” She disappeared inside.

Ben jogged forward and shoved at the swinging door, his feet sliding on a patch of whipped cream that trailed from the doorway to the stainless-steel counter in the middle of the room. “Oh, shit!” he yelled, his arms in the air.

He was going to fall.
Had to protect the hands, the hands
—whew. He caught himself on the edge of the counter and looked around, letting out a long breath.

The room was a shambles, pots and pans everywhere. Blackened popcorn scattered across the floor like chipped marbles and Colleen Callahan stood in a corner, a pot lid raised like a shield. Lola towered over her…kind of, because Lola wasn’t that tall. But in this instance, Blair’s aunt looked like a geriatric warrior princess. She held tongs in both raised hands and snapped them menacingly. Bits of whipped cream sailed through the air and splatted onto the floor.

As Ben stared in horror, Blair grabbed her aunt around the waist and tugged. “Lola! What’s the matter with you?”

Lola vibrated with frustration. “This old crone has it coming.”

“Crone?
Crone?
How dare you…you…snooty old slut!” Colleen glared and even from across the room, Ben was alarmed. That old woman had eyes like ice chips sometimes.

Blair tugged again and stumbled backward a few steps, still clutching onto Lola, who held her tongs aloft. “Calm down. You’re both acting like teenagers, which is just—creepy.”

Colleen lowered her shield a couple of inches. “Yeah, well. If she hadn’t decided to inform me that she slept with my boyfriend the same week she rode into town, none of this shit would have ever happened.”

Blair let go of Lola and stared at her. “You what?”

Lola shrugged. “She kept needling me and needling me. Trying to make my life a living hell because she’s got nothing better to do, so I thought I’d shut her mouth. It didn’t really work out, though.”

“You got that fucking right, sister,” Colleen snapped. She hobbled forward a few steps. “Where’s my damn walker?”

Ben scanned the room and spotted it next to the bank of refrigerators. Carefully, he slid-walked over to it and retrieved it. “Here ya go,” he told Colleen with a smile. She had a piece of popcorn in her hair, and he removed it gently. “There.”

She beamed up at him. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll bet you’re not the type of guy to two-time his girl. Or sleep with someone you’ve just met.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “Okay, let’s calm down. Where is Bill, anyway?”

Both old ladies let out
humph
noises.

“He’s at home, sleeping in front of the TV,” Lola finally said. “Don’t you dare tell him anything, either.”

Blair sighed. “Come on. This is ridiculous. Lola, you’re getting married soon. And Colleen…at the risk of getting pelted with food, might I suggest that perhaps you should go on the hunt for another boyfriend?”

“Oh, I already have a couple on my leash,” Colleen retorted proudly. “But it’s the principle, here. Your aunt and I needed to have it out.”

Lola nodded. “It was coming.” She set the tongs down on the counter and stepped forward to take Colleen’s shield. “I’m very sorry for what I did to you, but I’m not sorry for falling in love so quickly.”

Folding her arms, Colleen stared at her for a moment. “Love at first sight, huh?”

Lola nodded again. “Yes. For the first time in my life. Don’t you believe in it?”

“Of course I do, you ninny. I met and married my husband within a month and was with him for half a century.” Tears sprang into Colleen’s eyes, and she cleared her throat. “And seeing as how you’re not going to get that kind of time, I suppose I could back the fuck off.”

Ben smiled and patted Colleen’s arm. She shook his hand off and pointed at him, and then at Blair. “These two, though. They could get a good fifty years, easy.”

Ben felt a warm flush creeping through him. Fifty years with Blair? The thought should cause some alarm, but it didn’t. He felt…lucky. He glanced at her, but she stared at the floor, examining a puddle of whipped cream with the toe of her shoe.

His smile fell away.

“They’ve got some work to do,” Lola whispered conspiratorially. Colleen inclined her head toward the other woman. “We’ll help.”

Blair looked up, her expression pained, but her tone brisk. “Why don’t you two focus on helping clean the kitchen? Ben, maybe you could go find some towels for us? I’ll go…find Marcus.” She didn’t look at Ben as she made her way to the doors. He didn’t follow.

“She’ll come around,” Lola said in a soothing voice.

“Butt out,” Ben responded and then closed his eyes. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” He cracked open an eye. “But keep out of it, ladies. Okay?”

Colleen chuckled. “Maybe we will. How could she resist you, though? You’re a beefcake.”

Lola stepped around a patch of popcorn and tapped his arm. “Colleen is right. Solid as a brick.” She smiled. “So sorry about ruining your date tonight.”

“Thanks,” Ben said in a tight voice.

“Ooh, we cock-blocked you?” Colleen smacked her walker on the floor and hobbled forward. “Yikes!”

A cough in the doorway made Ben turn around. Blair stood there, her face almost the color of her hair. She didn’t look any happier than she had a minute ago.

Marcus stood behind her, his expression shocked. “Gramma, don’t say ‘cock-blocked,’” he all but yelled at her. A collective gasp went up in the dining room behind them. Marcus groaned.

Colleen giggled.

Blair ducked back through the doorway. “I’m going to go hang out with Ivy for a few,” she said over her shoulder.

Damn. Ben had been about to follow her, but he wasn’t about to get in the middle of that conversation. So he turned to Marcus. “Need any help?”

Marcus shook his head. “The kitchen staff will take care of this mess and you”—he pointed to the two older women—“will get billed for their overtime.”

They both nodded, trying not to smile. “My pleasure,” Lola murmured.

Colleen grabbed her arm for support and winked at Marcus. “It won’t happen again,” she added. Marcus rolled his eyes and left the kitchen. This time, Ben followed.

As uncomfortable as the evening had turned out to be, he still had to talk to Blair. She needed to know about Starling’s involvement with Ink Fest before tomorrow morning, because Starling was insisting on coming to the May Day event. She’d said that she wanted to “check out” how the town commons “felt” during an event. But Ben thought otherwise. Starling would be there to plan her own version of Ink Fest.

But when Marcus led him back through the cafeteria, down a hallway lined with handrails, and into the spacious two-story lobby near the main entrance, Blair was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ivy.

With a sigh, Marcus pulled his phone out and sent a text. A few seconds later, his phone let out a chicken cackle. “Ivy changed my text tone again,” he said wearily. Then he shook his head, texting back.

“What did she say? Where’s Blair?” Ben shifted his feet and leaned on the reception counter, trying to look casual. His stomach began to hurt a little bit.

“They’re in Colleen’s apartment, all in a tizzy. Something about a May queen and a garland. Who the hell knows?”

Ben’s eyes widened. Shit. The flower crown. It was sitting on Mildred’s desk, in the now-locked library.

…

Thirty minutes later, Blair stood next to a prickly bush and stared up at the only unlatched window she could find at the library. It looked unpleasantly small. Behind her, a thin stream of light bounced off the sandstone wall.

“I’m not sure that’s going to help,” she said.

Ben chuckled. “It’s all we have. Count yourself lucky that I have a flashlight on my key ring. I’m actually surprised that you don’t.”

She turned around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re organized. That’s all.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “You don’t have to climb up there in a dress, Blair.”

She twisted back toward the wall. “Well, you’re not going to fit, and I
have
to get that crown.”

He chuckled. “It’s your call.”

“I know that. You sure there isn’t a security system?” she asked, her tone hushed. It was hard to get air into her lungs.