Tattoo Thief (BOOK 1) (32 page)

I can forget everything, except him.

“Gavin,” I say urgently, my head swimming as he coaxes a shower of sensations that race from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. “Gavin, I have to tell you.”

It’s the thing that I wanted to say when he gave me the necklace. I wanted to say it when he held me after we first made love. And it’s the thing I’ve known ever since the night he wrapped me in his shirt and his bed and comforted me the way no one else could, even from thousands of miles away.

“I—I’m crazy about you,” I finish lamely.

Gavin draws back, sitting on his heels, watching me intently. “Try again.”

“What?”

“What you were going to say? Before you chickened out?”

“I didn’t chicken—”

Before I can get the lie out, Gavin’s on top of me, growling, possessing me with a fiery passion that takes my breath away. “Don’t you dare run away from that, Beryl. You promised. If we’re going to run, we run toward each other.”

I struggle to catch my breath as Gavin drives into me, filling me, melting me with a scorching look. My body betrays me, clenching and shuddering as Gavin sends me flying. He paces his strokes to the spasms inside me, each time sending me further into the stratosphere.

“Tell me how you really feel, Beryl, but don’t tell me some half-truth. Don’t tell me you like me a lot when I feel so much more for you. Don’t tell me you’re just crazy about me when I love you like my life depends on it.”

And with that, Gavin’s plunge takes him over the edge with me, drawing an open-mouthed groan of pleasure that is so wild, so untamed, that I’m not sure if it’s him or me or both of us.

He collapses on me, panting and sated. I feel tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes, running down my cheeks. A tiny whimper escapes my mouth.

“I do, Gavin.”

He raises his head and looks in my eyes. I try to wipe away the tears and I rub my red nose on the back of my hand. I don’t sleep pretty and I don’t cry pretty, either.

“You do what?”

“I do love you, Gavin. I fell for you and I care about you and I’m crazy about you
and
I love you.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Every word.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

Gavin and I are playing hide-and-seek with the paparazzi but I think we’ve given them the slip. Still, baseball hats and glasses aren’t exactly a spy-worthy disguise and we jump out of the car at Forty-Third and Ninth, looking over our shoulders as we walk two blocks to the heart of Times Square.

It’s there—the three-story-tall billboard for Tattoo Thief’s new album released today. The cover art is stunning and I can hardly believe it’s me—just the silhouette of my bare shoulders, waist and hips dividing two scenes, a forest and a windswept beach.

The album title
Wilderness
is scrawled across the composite.

We took those photos together on our trip to Oregon, and now it’s surreal to see them juxtaposed against the electric bustle of Times Square.

Gavin pulls me close and kisses me hard, reminding me of our kiss in front of the paparazzi when we left
Late Night
two months ago. We have another date with Fallon tomorrow night, this time with Tattoo Thief performing their new single.

My mom and Dan are coming to the show—she’s out here for another visit and finally admits that he’s her boyfriend. I try not to make gagging noises when they kiss, but seriously, people,
get a room
.

Are Gavin and I this mushy? OK, probably.

I’ve quit house sitting but I still work for Dan, focusing on building Keystone’s short-term property management business with the three house sitters I manage.

Joel’s one of them. After he earned enough to replace the vase and his parents came home, he confessed what he’d done and started to mend their relationship. I had to admire him stepping up, and thanks to Dan’s mentorship he’s making noises about switching his major to accounting with the aim of becoming a property manager.

Phillip and Rebecca James haven’t hired us again to house sit because they’re busy—not with travel or the biological baby they kept trying for, but with two toddlers, brother and sister, whom they are in the process of adopting. I’ll bet childproofing their artifact-filled apartment took weeks.

But Keystone gets plenty of house-sitting work thanks to Greta Carr’s connections and the Safe Haven Network committee. They listened to Greta and it worked—we pulled off the most successful fund-raiser in Safe Haven’s history.

Peter Todd didn’t attend, but his mother is now one of my clients. Greta claims she’s indebted to me for life for finding her a perfect date for the charity ball—Anthony.

And as far as I can tell, Greta hasn’t gone under the knife. I introduced her to Gavin at the ball and he regaled her with stories of his trip. The emails I get from Greta lately gush about the warm and generous people in Kenya, and I think she has her sights set on making a difference there rather than padding a plastic surgeon’s pockets.

And Stella? That’s a whole different story.

This was my story—real and raw, warts and all. I did some stupid stuff. I made bad choices, and, thankfully, some good ones. I fell in love. And with Gavin cheering me on, I wrote it all down.

Ta-da. I might end up being a real writer after all.

But Stella’s story starts here. And I’ll let her tell it herself.

I am indebted to many friends and loved ones who cheered me on during the writing, editing, and launch of this book, especially the exceptionally gifted authors Denise Grover Swank and Cynthia L. Moyer.

Editor Jim Thomsen and beta reader Tami Wood offered pivotal feedback to flesh out the story. Many other beta readers contributed ideas to bring Beryl and Gavin into sharper focus—thank you to these fantastic friends, and to Cynthia L. Moyer and Amy Duryea for proofreading.

My husband Derek and our folks helped tremendously by entertaining the little people (my kids) when Mommy needed time to write.

This writing thing? It’s hard. It’s lonely. It’s a rush. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Heidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up.

Heidi’s obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a few delicious years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is
exactly
what the rock star intends.

You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids fishing, clamming, exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living room.

She’s currently working on a sequel to
Tattoo Thief
through a very different pair of eyes. Stella promised Tyler
anything
to get the inside scoop on the making of the band, but Tyler doesn’t want anything. He wants
everything
—and that’s more than Stella’s prepared to give.

Find out what’s behind the secrets and lies, the making of the band, and the
real
story of Tyler’s stolen tattoo.

A preview is at Heidi Joy’s website:

www.heidijoytretheway.com
.

Independently published authors are making huge strides in what was once an exclusive industry. But we can’t do it without your help.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads or your favorite review site. Tell your friends about it. Bring it to your book group. Give it as a gift.

When you support independent authors—especially those of us who invest heavily in editing, layout, design and proofreading—you’re helping us make up for the lack of marketing muscle and distribution networks that traditional publishers use.

Your reviews also help us rise to the top of an increasingly crowded market—because there are no gatekeepers and
anyone
can publish a book at almost no cost, many poor-quality books are in the marketplace.

The greatest compliment you can pay us is an honest review. Thanks for helping your favorite indie authors succeed!