“FEVER” BY THE BLACK KEYS almost rattles the windows it’s playing so loudly through the shop while I prep for the appointments we have tonight. Per usual, Nash’s giant-ass head is bobbing to the beat, the man-bun affixed to his skull following along.
Every now and then I can feel his eyes drilling in to me, but whenever I look up, he gets back to whatever the fuck he’s doing.
“Got something to say, man?” I finally ask. Not one to play games.
“Should be asking you that, brother. Seems to me like you’re holding out on me.”
My brows drop in confusion until I look up again to see a smirk on his face. Then it clicks.
Fucker knows about my date last night.
Fucking Saylor.
The shop’s closed Sundays. Only day of the week we aren’t open for inking skin. At first we were open seven days a week, but I quickly realized we not only needed a day to make sure day-to-day shit was handled here at the shop, but we also needed a whole day off for us. On more than one occasion, both of us have had to stop mid-session due to our hands cramping, which had us realizing right quick that we couldn’t go on like we were or we’d lose business.
So us not touching base Sunday isn’t anything new. We usually regroup on Mondays. Which means he wouldn’t have known about my date with Kennedy until I told him.
Or Saylor did.
“A date, man. Never thought I’d see the day Rhett Shaw would cave and cater to a woman. Taking her out, winin’ and dinin’ her. Daaaaamn.” He shakes his head, chuckle dying down with his next words. “‘Bout damn time though, man. That’s all I’ve gotta say.” His head bobs in a nod as a big-ass grin stretches his face. Not only ‘cause I finally made my move on Kennedy, but also because I actually went on a date. A first for me as he knows.
His eyes hold something more than mirth though. Happiness. For me.
“The fuck, we women now? Gossiping?” I joke. Trying to lighten the moment back to our usual banter.
“What?” Nash asks incredulously. “Can’t a man ask his best friend about his first date?”
Best friend.
That term has me coming up short, though Nash’s tone is back to joking.
Ever since I was able to save up enough cash five years ago for a down payment to buy and open Inked Souls, Nash has been by my side. He worked alongside the original owner of the shop before I bought it and changed its name. The one condition for the old man was that I keep his grandson employed since he just finished his apprenticeship and was damn good. He was, and that grandson turned out to be Nash.
At the time I was a twenty-two-year-old asshole who only cared about inking skin, tappin’ ass, and Saylor and Gus. Before that, I realized years ago that it wasn’t worth putting stock in anything. Wasn’t worth forming connections because people either left you or didn’t turn out to be what you hoped for. So keeping my circle to two and bagging as many women as I could was my life’s motto.
Now I’m a twenty-eight-year-old asshole who’s just finally realizing there’s more to life than chasing tail and one-night stands. That not only do I have Saylor and Gus in my life, though it took Gus years to break through, but Nash is there, too. And I have Kennedy to thank for it. Because that beautiful angel turned my life on its axis just a couple short weeks ago and has left me twisted ever since.
His question has my mind reeling, but not just for me. Thinking back to last night and everything Kennedy told me, everything she shared and revealed. If I could turn back the hands of fucking time, I’d have been there for her, protecting and saving her. I know it sounds fucking insane, that it’s damn impossible, but I can’t help that’s how I feel. That I wish she never felt an ounce of pain, of hurt, that she never felt alone and abandoned.
I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.
And to know she felt it her entire life and not just five years like Saylor and I did when we were forced to live with our great-aunt tears me up. But that’s just it. As much as I let the loss of my parents lead my decisions in life, I was never truly alone. Because I always had Saylor.
Kennedy wasn’t so lucky.
“You good, man? You just checked out there for a second.” Nash’s voice breaks through my spinning thoughts.
Clearing my throat, I nod once. “Yeah. All set.”
He sets me with a look, both hard and concerned, but lets it go.
“It’s just, Kennedy…she’s something I never expected, but all I can think about. Scares the fuck outta me is what she does, because I’ve spent the last sixteen years like I thought I’d live the rest of my life, different chick every night without letting anyone in.”
He nods his head in understanding, knowing my plans of being a bachelor for life.
“Then Kennedy, like a goddamn angel dropped from heaven, slams into my life and there ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do. Nothin’,” I say with a slight shake of my head.
Nash sits there, quietly contemplating, like me, then before either of us can say another word, Saylor waltzes her leather-pant-wearing self into the shop as if she owns the place. The black In Ruins work tank cut lower than intended.
I shake my head and myself from the heavy, and almost roll my eyes, while Nash’s track her every move. Our discussion completely forgotten now that my sister’s in the vicinity.
“Yo, asshole, I’m sitting right here.” I grunt. “Pop your fuckin’ eyes back into their sockets.”
Saylor giggles and adds an extra swing to the last few steps she takes toward us before stopping at my station and leaning a hip against the desk top.
“Can’t blame a man for appreciating fine craftsmanship, my man.” Nash’s tongue practically hangs from his mouth as a huge, tattooed hand rubs the beard on his chin.
“Yeah, well, my man,” I emphasize to get his attention. “Appreciate it with a little less gusto.”
The more I see these two together, the more I’m thinking there’s something going on that I don’t know about. I sure as hell hope they’d be smart enough to let me in on their plans being the big brother and best friend in this equation. But with Saylor, she could talk a nun into changing ways, so who the fuck knows what’s going on.
“Oh boys,” Saylor sighs with a touch of sass and a cluck of her tongue.
“Don’t oh boys me, Say. You damn well know what you’re doin’. Your shirt rip or somethin’?” I ask as I wave a hand to gesture to her top that had Nash ‘bout near falling out of his seat.
Looking down at her chest and torn top, she then looks back up to me with a roll of her eyes. “Tone it down a notch, big brother. Your caveman is showing.”
Nash booms a quick laugh while I mutter a few choice words, but let it go. There’s no winning with her.
“There a reason you’re here, little sister?”
“Oh, don’t get all pissy on me, Rhett. This is how I always dress, and you know it.”
I don’t respond, just blink at her, waiting on her to continue. Thankfully, she does.
“Anywho, I did stop by for a reason. And she’s got long, honey-brown hair, pale green eyes, and a smile she can’t wipe off her face. Know anything about that, big brother?”
My heart rate picks up. Kennedy.
And she’s smiling. And from what Saylor’s insinuating it’s because of me.
“Could it be because of that date you took her on last night? Or is it the bunch of wildflowers you had delivered to the bar at the start of her shift?” One of Saylor’s hands rests on her cocked hip, while the other taps her long, painted nails on my desk she’s still leaning on.
Her smile can’t be contained, and it’s got me wondering if Kennedy’s can be either…
“Say what now? A date and flowers? Brother, who the fuck are you and what have you done with the Rhett Shaw I know?” Nash winks as he finishes ribbing me. Because it’s just that, jokes and good fun, because after our talk just moments ago I know he gets how serious I am about Kennedy.
“Hush you,” Saylor scolds him. “You could take a lesson or two from my brother here.”
Nash mutters under his breath, something I swear sounded a lot like her not complaining about him the other night. And if I wasn’t so wrapped up in finding out more about my girl, I’d have questioned it. But it’s their lucky day, ‘cause I don’t.
“She’s smilin’, huh?” I mutter to myself, but Saylor hears and her face softens.
“Can’t contain it, big brother. It’s either soft and tender, like she can’t stop thinking of you, or blinding and downright stunning. Gus can’t help but keep asking if she’s okay while the girls can’t help but gush and swoon. She’s tightlipped with them, but when I got home last night, as soon as I asked, she couldn’t help but go on about how she had such an amazing time. And that’s unlike her, as you know she’s pretty quiet and to herself. But last night, she couldn’t contain that either. Then add in walking into her shift and seeing the flowers delivered for her. Well, you could knock her over with a feather; she’s on cloud nine.”
My chest puffs with pride, knowing I made her happy, that I can make her smile.
Give me a truth.
You make me more nervous, yet more excited, than I’ve ever been.
Yeah…feeling’s mutual, angel.