Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (20 page)

Starling laughed again, this time loudly enough to attract attention from other customers. Across the room, Crystal shot her a glare and then sauntered over. “Heya, Ben. Are you and…your friend ready to order?”

“Cheeseburger and salad,” Ben answered. “Starling?”

“Water.” Starling didn’t bother looking at Crystal. Instead, her unblinking stare was fixed on Blair.

Blair stared right back. This bitch didn’t intimidate her one bit. Starling didn’t have
anything
on some of the Park Avenue moms Blair had dealt with in the past.

“Coming right up,” Crystal said, and then—“Hey, Ivy!”

Ivy?

Blair broke away from the staring contest and looked toward the door. Ivy, who stood next to the cash register with Marcus, waved at Crystal and smiled across the room at Blair.

Oh, no.
Blair widened her eyes at her boss, willing her not to say anything about the permit. Or the senior center.

“Oh good! I need to talk to you,” Ivy called and then walked over and pulled up a chair. “Hey. Did you get that paperwork from Sheila?”

“Sure did.” But she didn’t want to talk about that, either.

Blair introduced Starling, and without hesitation, Ivy shook her hand. Starling was less enthusiastic, her surliness firmly in place, and Blair had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Was Starling always this insecure around other women? It was almost pathetic.

Ivy frowned in concentration. “I know I’ve seen you somewhere before, Starling.”

“It was probably on the cover of Tattoo World. Either that or on the poster in Ben’s office.”

Blair gave a nonchalant shrug. “I didn’t notice any poster, sorry.” And actually, she hadn’t. The few times she’d been in Ben’s office, she’d been 100 percent focused on him.

“No,” Ivy tapped her fingers on the table and then snapped them, “I know! You were at the Pick n’ Shop yesterday. Talking to Peter Collins out in the parking lot by the grocery carts.”

Ben laughed. “Really? Why?”

Starling didn’t answer.

“Who’s Peter Collins?” Blair glanced at Ivy.

“Principal Collins,” Ivy answered. She made imaginary ears in the air above her head and chuckled. “You know—our Easter mascot.”

Blair didn’t say a word, but weird? Yeah. Blair realized
that
the second she made the connection that the pop-eyed bunny from the Easter parade and the high school principal were one and the same. She let out a cough and sneaked a glance at Ben. He was rubbing his jaw, but above his hand, Blair could see the curve of a smile.

Starling eased out of the booth with a sniff and stood up, sliding sunglasses on. “I have
no
clue what you people are talking about.” She grabbed her bag and waved a hand at the folder in Blair’s hand. “Keep that for now.” She sauntered out of the diner.

There was silence for a moment as customers’ heads swiveled, watching her prance down the sidewalk, and then they turned back to their meals. Ben relaxed visibly and began humming under his breath.

Ivy nudged Blair with an elbow. “Great job on the May Day celebration. I know I told you that on Saturday, but people can’t quit talking about it. Everywhere I go, it’s Blair this and Blair that. You should be proud.”

“I am.” Blair smiled. Ivy was trying to boost her confidence after the near train wreck of Ink Fest and the parade, and it was nice of her. “The craft fair will hopefully be fun,” she added.

“Are you kidding? It’s going to be a blast. I love that kind of thing and I always come home with the craziest stuff.” Ivy laughed. “One time, I bought this rabbit-fur-covered cat statue. It looked so real, and its little mouth was wide open, hissing. Marcus about crapped his pants when he came home and saw it.”

From across the room, Marcus, holding two takeout bags, shook his head and walked over. “I never crap my pants,” he informed the table.

“Good to know.” Ben chuckled. As if on instinct, he reached across the table and took Blair’s hand. “And Blair’s fair will be great, yeah?”

Blair started to pull away but realized that she didn’t want to. Face burning, she forced a smile and looked at Ivy.

“Blair’s Fair…that’s awesome. We ought to call it that.” Ivy grinned and nudged her husband. “Marcus, weren’t you going to tell Ben about, you know?”

Alarm rocketed through Blair and she snatched her hand back. “Not yet!” she blurted out.

Ivy turned her head slightly and stared at Blair. Then she looked up at Marcus and gave him a subtle wink.

Marcus coughed. “Right. Anyway, just wanted to let you know that as crazy as this might sound, a lot of the residents out at Sunnyside are very excited about Ink Fest.” He smiled. “You’ll have room for some young-at-heart seniors at your festival, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Ben answered, a chuckle in his voice.

Blair relaxed a little bit and reached for Ben’s hand again. She could get through this. Now, if only Marcus and Ivy would just
leave
, she would tell Ben everything. She would—

“Good to know, Ben.” Marcus smoothed his tie. “I want to…ah…get your opinion on something, actually. Ivy was telling me about the hurdles you might face with the crowd control on the town commons, so I’ve decided to offer Sunnyside as an alternative location for your event. I’d give you a fair deal on the rent.”

Blair sucked in a breath.

Cautiously, she looked at Ben. He wasn’t smiling.

Oh, no.
Come on Ben…say yes…say yes.

Blair couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “How wonderful! I think it’s a great ide—”

“Ink Fest at a senior center?” Ben interrupted. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m not sure how well that would—”

“But you could get a liquor license,” she said, just a little too eagerly.

The minute the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them and Ben’s fingers, which had been trailing lazy circles over the back of her hand, froze. She glanced up at him.

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he reached over to shake Marcus’s hand. “I’ll think about it, thanks. It’s a generous offer, man.”

Marcus nodded and took Ivy’s arm.

“Okay then,” Ivy said. “I’ll see you at your aunt’s engagement party, Blair.” She flashed a smile that spoke volumes, and Blair translated it instantly.

Tell Ben, or the shit will hit the fan.

“Sure. I…I’ll see you Saturday.” Blair returned Ivy’s smile, but a flicker of hope took root. If Ben would take Marcus up on his offer, it would solve
everything
. She glanced at his unsmiling face again and then quickly looked down at the Ink Fest folder in front of her. She flipped it open and stared at it, not seeing anything but a jumble of words.

I have to tell him the truth.

But before she could raise her head, he took the folder and closed it, resting his palms on the back of her hands.

“Blair,” he said. She looked up. His eyes glowed with intensity. “Is there something you feel like you can’t tell me?”

Can’t…or won’t?

She swallowed, and at the look of concern in his eyes, her courage vanished. “I’m kind of scatterbrained right now. Starling threw me for a loop with her demands, but don’t worry. I’ll find a way to work around her so that she’s not a raging diva at Ink Fest.”

“Thanks, Firefly.” He squeezed her hands—then he began to laugh. “Can you imagine, though, if I moved the festival out to Sunnyside? She’d go nuts.”

Blair swallowed, her need to tell him overwhelming. “Ben, Ink Fest has to move to the senior center,” she blurted out.

He didn’t blink. “What?”

“I had to submit the parade route to the contest organizers. There was a deadline, and I realized that with the emergency routes and Ink Fest, we…” She closed her eyes. “I mean,
I
had a big problem. So I talked to Ivy and it was decided that the best solution would be to move Ink Fest to the senior center.” She tore her gaze away, her heart hammering.

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

She hesitated. She didn’t
want
to keep anything from him—but how could she tell him the parade, which was screwing his festival, was going to be a disaster? On purpose. And all because she wanted to stay and be with him? It would sound insane.

“Blair?”

“No. That’s all.”

“How long have you known about the venue change?” His voice was quiet.

“Long enough to thoroughly torture myself with how to tell you,” she whispered.

“I hope it was worth the wait.” With a crooked grin that almost hid the hurt in his eyes, he got up and walked toward the register.

His words hit hard, and Blair stared after him, pain spreading through her middle. She couldn’t move—she couldn’t think. She could only watch as he walked away from her, dimly aware of the sounds of clinking silverware and muted voices all around her. There was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Crystal’s exasperated sigh.

None of these people knew that her heart was ripping apart, and she had to keep it that way—they all trusted her to be a leader in the community now. She clenched her fists in her lap to keep them from moving to her mouth. If they went to her mouth, her eyes would begin to squeeze shut and then tears would quickly follow. She glanced across the room at Ben, who was still smiling. How could he be?

“Crys, could I get that burger to go? I have a bunch of clients today.”

“Good for you!” Crystal winked at him and wrapped up his food.

After glancing back at Blair a couple of times, the grin still in place, Ben paid and walked out, straight across the street and onto the commons.

With a sigh that deflated her completely, Blair sat there, watching him out the window until he disappeared from sight.

Chapter Nineteen

When Ben hopped out of his truck outside of Lola’s house on Saturday afternoon, the howls of laughter could be heard all the way from the street. Cracking his knuckles, he walked up onto the patchy, small front lawn where a circle of men stood motionless, as if they were trying to recreate Stonehenge. It wouldn’t be a stretch, since none of them were younger than sixty. Bill Benson, who wore a suit despite the fact that the party was casual, moved aside to give Ben some room.

“Hey, guys.” Ben slipped his keys in his jeans pocket and rolled up his sleeves. Several of the older men eyed the tattoos on his forearms, but nobody said anything. Ben smiled. He was used to being stared at, and most of the time, nothing but good things could come out of talking about ink. Today, though, he wasn’t interested in explaining anything about tattoos to anybody. He wanted to see Blair.

“Sounds like they’re not going to wind up the ladies-only portion of this party anytime soon,” commented Vern Tinsley. He scratched at his jowls. “Hope they don’t have a male stripper in there.”

Bill shook his head. “It’s an engagement party, not a bachelorette party, Vern.”

“That wouldn’t stop a lotta women,” Vern grunted, but he had already lost interest in complaining. He gave Ben a once-over. “Heard you were dating Lola’s daughter. That so?”

The men who’d been staring at the grass looked up and Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “You hear a lot of things in this town. I’ve been seen with her, sure.”

But since lunch at the Lovin’ Cup, he’d barely seen Blair—hadn’t been able to talk to her about the whole fuckup with Ink Fest, the senior center, the parade—because he’d been so slammed with clients. He didn’t know where Starling was digging them up, but it seemed all she had to do was send a couple of text messages and ten minutes later, random people were calling for appointments—or showing up from nowhere. Starling refused to tattoo any of the walk-in clients, saying that she was content to sign autographs and pose for photos. He’d been busy.

That was a bullshit excuse, though. If he were honest with himself, he could have made time to see Blair. But he hadn’t wanted to. He’d avoided her calls and spent what little downtime he had trying to figure out why she’d kept information from him. She said she’d tortured herself by waiting to tell him—and after a few days, he realized that in a way, he was doing the same thing to himself. It was time to stop being paranoid. It was time for answers.

“If you want to hook Lola’s niece, you better try harder,” piped up Earl Parkett. “My advice is to stay away from that trash can.”

“Trash can?” Ben looked at him sideways.

“That old girl with all the earrings in her face,” the man replied.

Bill Benson cleared his throat. “Now, Earl, you don’t know that woman. She might be nice as pie.”

All of the men looked at Ben again. He chose his words carefully. “Starling is her name, and I’m not involved with her. She’s working for me. She’s the headliner at the Central New York Ink Fest in July.”

“So what are you planning to do about Lola’s niece?” Earl pressed. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

“That’s Ben’s business. You’re a photographer, not a reporter, Earl,” Bill said calmly. He pointed at the porch, where bunches of ribbons and balloons were tied to the railings on either side of the front door. “Front door is open. I think they’re winding up.”

Ben jerked his head in acknowledgement and broke free from the old-man pack to jog up the steps. When he reached the screen door, it flew outward, followed quickly by the front end of Colleen Callahan’s walker.

“Hold the door for me, sweetie,” she demanded as she thumped the walker through the doorway. “This fucking thing is the bane of my existence.”

Behind her, Ivy laughed. “I thought that was me.”

“Good one,” Colleen said. She looked up and Ben and then gripped his arm as she maneuvered her way toward the front steps. “Been meaning to come and see you. I want to get a tattoo. Something sexy.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied, helping her down the steps.

“I’ll bet it would.”

“You leaving already?” Ben asked.

Colleen gave him an appraising look and lowered her voice. “I only stopped by to be polite. If you were getting married, would you want your ex-girlfriend at the engagement party?”

Ben shook his head.

“I’m no dummy. I’m not about to ruin a party with some awkward confrontation,” Colleen retorted. When they were near the sidewalk, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled his face closer to hers. “Just so you know, that Blair has been looking out the window at you like you’re a hot-fudge sundae.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Ben gave her a nervous smile and walked back up to the porch, his heart even more pained than it had been earlier today. What had he been thinking, coming here? Sure, there would be a lot of people around, and he’d hoped that the neutral ground would…what? Make it easier? Yeah, right. Half the gossipy eyes in Celebration were probably watching out the window right now. He ought to turn around and go home.

The door flew open. “Hi,” Blair said, a bit breathless. She stood in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a pale blue dress that floated around her curvy legs, and her hair was loose and soft. He stared at her.

“Ben?” She gave him a hesitant smile. “Did you…come to see me?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, because he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth, despite the fact that he was still upset with her.
I want you. I miss you. It’s been five days and three hours since I last kissed you.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the floral scent her shampoo had left behind.

“Please come in,” she murmured, stepping back. When he walked into the entryway, looking around at the carved wood and bright rugs, she stepped to the doorway and motioned to the men on the lawn. Moments later, they wheezed and huffed their way up the steps and crowded around Ben.

“Where’s the food?” Earl said. He stomped through a parlor to the right and disappeared through a dining-room doorway, where Lola stood, beckoning.

“Cookies. I smell cookies,” Vern muttered. He waddled after Earl. Bill Benson gave Blair a warm smile, a quick hug, and then wandered toward Lola. “I’ll see if she needs anything,” he said.

Blair tried to smile. “I guess they all want to be fed before we get to the games.” She gestured quickly toward the back of the house. “Would you like some cookies? Or there are sandwiches. I think—”

“No,” he said. “I want to talk to you. That’s pretty much it.”

“Okay.” She smoothed the front of her dress and glanced to another parlor off to the left. “We could sit in the TV room while everyone’s chatting.”

Her tongue snaked nervously to wet her lips and Ben, who felt like he might shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t touch her, took a deep breath and followed her through an archway into the small room. It didn’t have a door, so he wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted, which was to take her in his arms and—no. They needed to have a conversation. They needed—

“I’m so sorry, Ben. I wasn’t thinking, or actually, I was overthinking. And since then I’ve been rethinking everything and wishing…please,” Blair said in a rush of breath. “Please forgive me.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before his hands slid around her slender back and he lifted her against him, crushing his mouth to hers. His fingers tangled in that glorious, soft hair and he savored her lips, his tongue parting them, aggressive and insistent. She tasted like everything sweet—a rich, heady flavor that made his head swim.

When she moaned into his mouth, he leaned forward, half covering her body with his, and pushed her butt onto the back of an armchair. Her hands ran up his back, fisted in his T-shirt, pulling at it, fumbling, until her smooth palms gripped at his bare skin. She tore her mouth away and panted into the crook of his neck.

“This is crazy.” But even as she said it, she shifted her thighs apart to pull him closer.

He groaned, resisting. Because if his cock pressed against her through that thin dress, all reason would fly out right of the open windows. “Blair,” he said gruffly.

“What?” Her voice sounded drugged. “Nobody will come in here for a few minutes. We can just—”

He took a step back and rested his hands on the curve of her waist. “If we don’t stop, a few minutes from now, that lovely dress will be ripped all to hell, and you’ll be completely naked. At your aunt’s engagement party. Which I shouldn’t have crashed assuming…I don’t know.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know. Look, Blair. I forgive you. All I ask is that you don’t say anything about the senior center to Starling. I’ll handle it.”

Her dreamy eyes, clouded with lust, fluttered closed. “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

“Good.” He set her back on her feet. “Uh…”

A cough sounded in the doorway and Blair gasped, peering around his shoulder.

“Um…hi there.” She nodded. “Mister Principal. How goes it?”

Ben dropped his hands from Blair’s waist and glanced at Peter Collins, who stood in the doorway. He looked as keyed up as Ben felt.

“I’m going to go get some air.” Ben looked at Blair. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Without waiting for her answer, he slipped out onto the porch.

When Ben had gone, Blair suppressed a frustrated sigh and gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat, Principal Collins.”

“Oh, no thanks. You can call me Peter, by the way. Listen, I was wondering…” He glanced at her and then down at his well-worn wing tips. “This is kind of out of the blue, but since I know you spend time with Ben Lambert, I was wondering if maybe you’d met the person who’s been working with him at his tattoo studio.”

“Yes, I’ve met her.” she replied. Not that she wanted to think about Starling right now.

“Uh, huh. I see.” He scratched his ear. “And…this is awkward, considering, but…are they seeing each other?”

She pressed her lips together for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Was he interested in Starling? Poor guy. Starling would eat him alive. “No. They’re not seeing each other.”

He looked up again, his eyes bulging more than usual. “Okay. I was curious because I saw you…speaking with Ben and wasn’t sure if you two are serious…or…well, it’s not any of my business. Sorry to bother you.”

“No, no,” she reassured him. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” No it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t Peter’s business. “Thanks for being so…observant.”

She winced as his face turned a bit red. Surprisingly though, a small smile played at the corners of his lips and he nodded. “You’re welcome. I have another question if you don’t mind.”

“Okay?” She raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the window. What if Ben didn’t come back? Now was her chance to make everything right. “Uh, Peter, I—”

“You’re busy. I’ll be quick,” Peter continued. “That woman, the one who works with Ben…what’s her name?”

Blair stared at him. “Starling.”

He snapped his fingers—a little too deliberately—and shook his index finger. “Oh, sure. That’s it. Um…have you seen her lately?”

“Not recently. You could ask Ben about her, I guess.” She paused. “He could probably give you her number if you were looking to set up…an appointment. Did you have any more questions? Because I really need to…”

The front door creaked open and her heart leaped when she glimpsed Ben. Oh, thank God.

Peter laughed self-consciously. “No, no. That’s okay.” His face was beet red now, and he let out a sigh before rubbing at his receding hairline. “See ya.” Turning on his heel, he rushed back toward the entryway and bumped into Ben with a mumbled, “Sorry.”

“No problem, man.” Ben glanced over his shoulder and then turned to Blair and held out his hands. “Firefly, come here. What’s going on in your head? Why do feel like you need to hide things from me?”

Blair winced, but didn’t move. She looked at his outstretched palms, aching to put her own on top of them and slide right back into his arms. It wouldn’t really solve anything, though, would it? “I…I don’t like to disappoint people. I don’t even like
thinking
about disappointing people. But lately, my thoughts have been bombarded by guilt. I’m worried about things I haven’t even done.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Ben dropped his hands. “Getting ready for the parade? Ink Fest?”

She nodded, but then shook her head as another wave of anxiety crashed through her. “I don’t want to make this about me and my paranoia. I’m sorry.”

And I’m even sorrier about the stuff I haven’t told you. Won’t tell you.

“I know you’re sorry. So I’m only going to ask you to do one thing. Trust me.” Ben stood still, gazing at her.

“I do.”

A flicker of doubt shadowed his eyes, but he walked forward and cupped her face. “Then kiss me.”

She did, with everything she had in her—passion, pain, and apology. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

Ben groaned into her mouth, but even as she pushed up on her toes and twined her arms around his neck, he tore his mouth away. “Anybody could walk by that doorway,” he muttered, taking a step back.

“I don’t care.” She reached for him again.

“Yeah, you do. Didn’t you just tell me that you don’t want to disappoint people? Besides, I’m only trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From yourself.”

She paused as the irony of his words sank in. Nobody could protect her from herself because she’d already chosen her path.

The best she could do now was minimizing the damage she caused—especially where Ben was concerned. Nobody would find out that she was unraveling the parade. She’d tell them that she’d tried her best—after it was over. And when all of this
was
finally over…

“Blair.”

Her head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Almost everything. You’re the only thing that’s right.

She reached for his hand and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. Not with you here.”