Skin Deep (22 page)

Since he was still deep asleep, I took the
chance to finally get a close look at his tattoos. I’ve seen him
naked so many times now, but I’ve never had the chance to really
see what they all were. The first time I had seen him shirtless, I
was drawn to the small silver hoops piercing his nipples, but I was
still intrigued by the swirls of ink patterning his skin.

On his back was a sweet ass phoenix. The
design was tribal and done in all black with red accents through
the wings and tail. The head was situated at the base of his neck,
and the wings were slightly spread, spanning the length of his
broad shoulders before tapering down as if they were closing or
folding in on itself. The tail was angled and curved, and I reached
out to let my fingers trace the line of it as it disappeared around
his left side that was currently pressed into the mattress. Tribal
markings swirled and jutted down his back and around the top curve
of his shoulder, blending seamlessly into the phoenix design.

The right side of his body was mostly
unmarked, with the exception of the tribal design swirled down his
arm from his shoulder, but there were lines of script spanning his
ribcage under his right arm. I sat up gingerly and pulled his arm
slowly back to reveal the words beautifully scripted with small
precise lettering in five straight lines.

You’ve got to take the good with the bad

Smile with the sad

Love what you’ve got and remember what you
had

Always forgive but never forget

Learn from mistakes but never regret

The words touched me with the truth of them.
I pulled back from him as he shifted in his sleep again, this time
rolling toward me but remaining on his back, his right arm laid
over his head on the pillow. The tribal design that flowed out from
the phoenix on his back curved up over his shoulder and continued
down his chest, stomach and side, before disappearing underneath
the sheet draped over his hips. I pulled the sheet down a bit,
wanting to see that gorgeous spot where they stopped, which was
just shy of his hip bone.

In the spikes and swirls of the tribal design
weaving down his arm, different sized black and red nautical stars
were interspersed. On the inside of his left forearm, inside a
spiked, curving swirl, he had more words scripted in even smaller
letters, but no less precise. A small black and red star rested at
the upper curve of the first line, and a second star was placed
just below the last letter of the last line. I pulled his arm
closer to me so I could see.

Lost in darkness, steeped in dreams

Blackened eyes and silent screams

Start and wake, now shaken free

Stand in faith and no more flee

While the other lines had touched me, these
made my heart squeeze painfully as tears sprang to my eyes. I knew
without a doubt that they were words that Luke had written
himself.

My eyes jerked to meet Luke’s as his hand
came up, his thumb wiping away a tear sliding down my cheek.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly and low
with sleep. “What’s wrong, baby?”

I shook my head before answering. “Nothing.
Just looking…reading your tattoos.” I pointed at his arm. “This one
is yours, isn’t it. About your life?”

He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, but its
not meant to be sad. Its more about the strength to stand up for
myself and for my brother. That strength got me where I am today.
And right now, I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world,
Emma. Not if it meant that I wouldn’t have met you.”

I closed my eyes against the emotions choking
me, squeezing my heart. He pulled me to him, laying me across his
chest as he kissed the top of my head. Of their own volition, I
felt my lips part and the words slipped out.

“I love you, Luke.” I felt him tense
underneath me before his hands resumed their leisurely movement
down my back.

“I know.” Luke replied.

And then he just laid there stroking me. And
saying nothing. Nothing more. Not a word, nor three little
ones.

Chapter 15

I tried to shake off the fact that Luke
hadn’t said anything when I’d blurted that I loved him. I told
myself that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t need to hear those
words. If only I’d believe my own lies…

The morning after the party, I had gone
downstairs to make some breakfast. I froze on the last stair in
surprise when I saw Allie curled up with Doug on the couch. I
walked over and sat beside her, shaking her shoulder gently. The
last I had saw of her at the party was hanging upside down over the
shoulder of one of the guys.

“Allie…wake up!” I whispered.

“Hmmm….?” Allie stretched, blinking her eyes
at me to clear the sleep from them.

“Why are you on the couch? Where’s
Jackson?”

“Um, I think he’s in bed with Brandon,” she
said, yawning. “Why?”

“Just wondering why you were out here and not
smushed in between them somewhere. So, the plan worked! Er, well at
least for me it did!” I grinned down at her and she smiled sleepily
back.

“Yeah, I heard. You think he’s God or
something,” Allie said dryly.

“No-” I started, but she interrupted me.

“Yeah, seriously. I think you called him that
like two thousand times, screaming at the top of your lungs.” She
broke down laughing, and only laughed harder when I yanked the
pillow out from under her head and smacked her in the face with
it.

I rolled my eyes at her and asked, “So?
Details! Luke said that it was Jackson that carted you off and
Brandon was hot on his heels. What happened after they carried us
off like cavemen?”

“Jacks grabbed me and threw me over his
shoulder, bouncing me along until we got outside. Then he and
Brandon took turns yelling at me. Assholes,” she grumbled.

“What? Why were they yelling at you?” I
asked.

“They kept saying that no one else needed to
see my goods dressed up like that. Of course, I yelled back at them
because who the fuck are they to tell me who can see what? If I
want to show off my chimichanga to the world, then I fuckin’
will!”

“Okay, so that explains why you looked so
pissed when you came stomping back inside. Now cut the crap and
tell me why they were wearing your lipgloss on their lips and you
had leaves in your hair. AND why you didn’t put up a fuss about
coming here last night.”

She sighed and then sat up to give me more
room to sit down beside her. “I was right in the middle of yelling
at them and Jacks just leaned in and kissed me. I heard him mumble
something about hot bitches that didn’t know when to shut up and
then his lips were on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and I was
completely like…holyshitfuckdamn! And then it turned into a
holyshitfuckdamnohmigod when Brandon ripped me out of Jacks’ arms
and HE kissed me! We ended up in a pile of leaves on the grass and
everything was fan-fuckin’-tastic until they pulled back and both
asked me if I was going to come in and change! Ugh!”

She and I laughed and traded stories back and
forth quietly until the guys all started ambling in from different
directions in the house. Then we got up and made breakfast and just
enjoyed the weekend together.

In the weeks that followed the Halloween
party, Luke and I spent pretty much all of our free time together.
He never complained about Sunday breakfast at my parents’ house;
even Brandon and Jackson tagged along. Brandon was always the first
to the car to go over there, and I teased him that he was sweet on
my mom’s cooking, to which he replied that it was more that he
couldn’t wait to see what my brother and I would argue and fight
over each week. Jackson admitted that that was primarily the reason
he went, as well.

I tried to just ignore Calland so I wouldn’t
give them more to laugh at, but I couldn’t help it that my brother
was such an asshole. But I could not sit back and let him have his
way about everything. We had enough of that growing up. My sisters
and I had dubbed it the “Penis Rule” and my family had ran with it.
Calland was fond of saying, ‘He who has the penis makes the rules’
and, my parents, Lord love them, thought it was hilarious.

This rule was brought up last week at
breakfast, and was more than likely the reason that neither
Brandon, nor Jackson, would ever miss another one. Well, that and
the scalloped potato incident…

Last week we had all gone over to my parents’
house for breakfast. Allie had come, as per usual. There were very
few Sunday breakfasts that she’s missed in all the years we’ve been
friends, and they’ve been mostly in the last couple of years. Since
all three of the guys have been coming, she’s started showing up
like clockwork again, which my mother adores.

My mom had made a big batch of scalloped
potatoes for dinner on Saturday night, which all of us kids love.
After breakfast, I had asked my mom if I could take the leftovers
home with me, and (of course) she said I could. I reached in the
fridge to get them and sat them on the counter to grab my purse and
give hugs and goodbyes. The guys had all headed outside with my dad
to look at something he wanted to show them, and when I turned to
grab the potatoes, they were gone.

I spent a good five minutes looking
everywhere for them, and it hit me. I headed out to the garage
yelling for my brother. When I got out there, he was standing just
outside the garage with the bowl in his hands. I had stomped over
to him and demanded that he give me the potatoes. That’s when
things went to hell and I ended up being brunt of about a million
jokes, not to mention the 2,000 and counting hits on the Youtube
video that my dear brother-in-law, Noah, had so kindly posted.

He said it was too funny not to post, what
with Calland opening the lid and licking the potatoes inside the
bowl so I wouldn’t want them. Which made me stomp and tattle to my
mother (don’t judge me), and then Calland had told me I could have
them if I could get them from him, but I couldn’t cross the
imaginary line he marked across the driveway with his foot. Long
story short, I chased him around the driveway screaming like a
banshee trying to get the potatoes while everyone laughed at me. (I
didn’t get the potatoes back.)

Since then, I’d tried not to let my brother
get a rise out of me, but it never turned out well. Thanksgiving
was next week and he was threatening to hide the homemade mac n’
cheese from me. Asshole. Always.

The Monday before Thanksgiving was hell for
some reason. I drove myself to work because Luke had told me that
morning after his shower (we were running late, so I didn’t get to
share it with him) that he would be working late tonight.

The phones were ringing off the hook and
Floyd was out of the office for the week. I only had to work Monday
and Tuesday, because I have an awesome boss and got to take
Wednesday, Thursday (obviously), and Friday off for the holiday. I
was looking forward to having a five day weekend and getting to
spend some time down at Luke’s shop with him. I’d even tentatively
picked out a new one that I wanted Luke to give me, but I hadn’t
asked him about it yet.

My phone rang again and I put the client
currently crying on my shoulder about her case on hold while I
answered the second line.

“Floyd Grim’s office, can I help you?” I said
into the phone.

“You forgot to say good morning, my
love.”

“Excuse me? This is Floyd Grim’s office…is
there something I can help you with?” I tried again, not sure I
really heard what I thought I did.

“You always say good morning or good
afternoon. You didn’t say it, sweetheart. And you should have.” The
voice continued speaking in a harsh whisper, deep, guttural, and
chilling.

“I’m…sorry? Is there…can I help you?” I
stammered, caught off guard by his words.

“I call you all the time to hear your voice.
Figured it was time I actually spoke to you. I’m going to miss
hearing you while you’re out on holiday, my love.”

I really didn’t know what to say, and he was
starting to freak me out. “Sir, this is a law office and if you
aren’t calling to speak to someone in that capacity, then I have to
ask that you not call again. Good day, sir,” I said quickly and
hung the phone up.

My phone beeped, reminding me that I had
another call on hold, and I jumped. Laughing at myself, I picked up
the phone and tried to calm the poor lady down. After promising
that Floyd would call her at the beginning of next week, I hung up
and immersed myself in the million and two other things that needed
my attention before I closed the office for the holiday
tomorrow.

I didn’t think much of that weird phone call
until I was tucked under Luke’s arm in bed that night. It hit me
that the creepy guy had said he called all the time to hear my
voice, and I wondered if he was the one that kept calling and
hanging up. I made a mental note to speak to Floyd about it when he
got back on Monday and drifted off to sleep.

“Emma,” a voice whispered in my ear.

I jerked up and winced, rubbing my forehead
where it had connected with Brandon’s chin.
Pause…rewind…Brandon?

“Shit!” I shrieked as I scrambled for the
sheet to cover my naked breasts as I glared at Brandon sitting
calmly on the edge of the bed where I was laying, rubbing his face
where my head had hit while he grinned unapologetically at me.

“What the hell are you doing, Brandon?
Where’s Luke?” I yelled at him.

“He called and said he wanted to let you
sleep a bit but he forgot to the reset the alarm for you. He had to
go in early because we were getting some new supplies in that he
had to be there for. Asked that I wake you up. So, wake up!” He
sounded entirely too cheerful, and I suspected that he was up to
something. I just wasn’t awake enough to figure out what.

“Okay, I’m awake! So, get the hell outta here
so I can get up!” I shooed him out with one hand, the other tightly
clasping the sheet to me so he wouldn’t get another peep show.