Chapter Twelve
“WELL, IF IT isn’t the queen of ink! You look cute as a button up there on that ladder, giving the world a Skyful of your butt.”
Sky laughed as she turned to greet the only person on earth who would come up with a Skyful of her butt other than Bella.
“I see we’re Maxine tonight?” She climbed down the ladder and hugged Marcus, who was in full makeup and dressed in a skintight green dress that was open nearly to his navel, revealing thick chest hair. His black high heels were higher than Sky could wear without falling. His hair was styled even more beautifully than half the women in Provincetown, making Marcus the perfect drag queen.
“Honey, I’ve got a show to put on.” Marcus hugged her and air-kissed her cheeks, then gazed up at the sign she’d been painting on the front window. “I love how you painted Inky Skies. It’s so fresh and so you!”
“Thanks. Do you think the design is okay, or too me?”
He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. “Honey, if there’s one thing I know about this world, it’s that all we’ve got is who we are. So don’t you ever stop being too you.”
All we’ve got is who we are. Her mind shifted to Sawyer, and even with conflicting thoughts about his fighting and the rest of who he was, thinking of him brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, you know what? I think you’re right.”
“You stick with Maxine. I’ll never lead you astray.” He gazed up at the sign Sky had painted. “I think Howie would have loved the swooping birds and the clouds you painted around Inky Skies.”
“Are you missing him more lately?” She reached for his hand, and Marcus blinked several times, then drew in a sharp breath.
“Not a day passes that I don’t miss that big pain in my…” He smiled and winked. “No pun intended.”
Sky laughed as she gathered her paints. “I have a date in a few minutes.”
“By any chance is it with a strappingly handsome, wide-shouldered man with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen and a mouth I’d like to see around my—”
“Hey!” Sky bumped Marcus’s shoulder. “That’s enough, playboy.” She followed his gaze to Sawyer walking toward them in a pair of jeans and a white linen shirt. Excitement skittered through her chest. “Geez, Marcus…Sorry, Maxine. How did I get so lucky?”
“Sugar, he’s the lucky one. You’re one heck of a catch.”
Sawyer’s smile widened as he came to Sky’s side and bent to kiss her cheek. “Hi. The building looks great.” He extended a hand to Marcus. “Hi, I’m Sawyer.”
Marcus laid his hand gently in Sawyer’s, as if he expected Sawyer to kiss it. Without missing a beat, Sawyer did.
“Oh, sugar. He is a keeper,” Marcus said to Sky, then to Sawyer, “I’m Maxine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Maxine.” Sawyer glanced up at the bright yellow paint and the intricately painted sign above. “This looks great, Sky. Did you just do this?”
“Yeah. I’ve been working on it all afternoon.”
“I’ll let you kids have your fun,” Marcus said. “Sky, baby, come by if you can to see my show later, and bring your hunka hunka burnin’ love with you.” He winked at Sawyer and sashayed into the crowd.
“Sorry,” Sky said as she picked up a paint can.
Sawyer took the can from her. “Why? She was nice. Where’s her show?”
“The Crown and Anchor. He…she’s there all summer. Marcus by day, Maxine by night.” Sky and Sawyer gathered the painting supplies.
“I can’t get over that sign,” Sawyer said as he gazed up at it again. “It looks like a decal it’s so perfectly painted. So you paint as well as tattoo?”
“I mess around, like you and your songs. The paintings in the shop are mine, too.”
He picked up the ladder and followed her inside with an armful of supplies, pausing in the reception area to look over the paintings. “Sky, you’re incredibly talented. You should sell your artwork.”
She set the paintbrushes in the sink and put her drop cloth over a chair. “And you should sell your songs.” She gave him a quick kiss when he smirked. “Besides, I do sell my artwork. I just etch it in people’s skin.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “Maybe we should sell your songs alongside my artwork here at the store. Everyone self-publishes these days. We could make a little book of them and sell it.”
“You have a lot of faith after hearing only one of my songs. How do you know the rest don’t suck?” He smiled down at her, his eyes as warm as his embrace.
“Because nothing that comes out of your mouth sucks, so I’m sure your songs are all wonderful.”
He lowered his lips to hers. “You never fail to surprise me, Sky.”
“I could say the same about you. Let me clean the paintbrushes, and then we can head out before another customer comes in. How was your afternoon? Did everything go okay with the ramp guys?”
“It went great. They’re starting on the installation in a few days. It’ll be nice for my dad to be able to go up to the skycap again.”
“I bet. He must be excited about the renovations you’re doing.”
“I think he is.”
“Before I forget, I talked to Pete this morning. He thinks it’s fine if we borrow his boat for a night. I was thinking about one night next weekend. Does that sound okay?”
He gathered her in close and kissed her. “Okay? It sounds amazing. I’ll let Roach know I need two days off.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“No, he’ll just bust my butt harder the other days.”
They spent the next few hours walking through the shops in Provincetown and enjoying the warm summer evening.
They had just rounded the corner of Commercial Street and Standish when Sawyer pointed in the window of Recovering Hearts, the local bookstore, and said, “Sky, how about here?”
Recovering Hearts was a cedar cottage-style shop with purple trim and a bright red awning over the front door. There were rainbow flags, colorful stained-glass hearts, and peace signs hanging in the front windows.
“I love that store, but I haven’t had a chance to go in since I bought my shop.”
Sawyer pointed to a sign in the window and said, “This made me think it’s a shop you might like.” The sign read, GIFTS FROM THE HEART. GIFTS FOR THE HEART. “And those sold me on going in.” He pointed to the back of the store, where dozens of different types of wind chimes—glass, ceramic, metal—hung from the ceiling.
“I think I’m in heaven.” She pulled him into the eclectic store and was immediately enveloped by warm scents she couldn’t name. Sky hadn’t been in the shop since the beginning of the summer, and they’d added new items, like patchwork bags and hoodies, books, and wooden plaques with cute sayings about life and love.
“I want to work my way from the front of the store to the back so I don’t miss anything,” Sky said as she looked over a display of candles.
Sawyer walked across the store, and a minute later he tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and found him holding up a wooden sign that read, HAPPILY EVER AFTER STARTS HERE. His eyes were pleading like a sad puppy’s.
Her emotions soared as she closed the distance between them and said, “I think I have to buy that sign.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
They picked out an incense burner and a pack of coconut incense for Sky’s shop and one for Sawyer’s home—to remind me of you. And then they went back to look through the wind chimes.
“This one has stars, so it might go with your sculpture.” Sawyer reached up and brushed his fingers along the dangling metal stars.
“You noticed that? My brother Grayson made it for me the summer after we lost my mom.” She looked up at the ceiling, touching one chime after another, and sending delightful sounds through the store.
“It’s a beautiful sculpture, and it was obvious that he put a lot of love into making it.”
She watched Sawyer as he moved through the store, picking up fragile knickknacks and delicate faux floral arrangements. He was a broad-shouldered, thickly muscled man, and when she’d seen him in the ring, it had seemed like every muscle, every brain cell, was attuned to his fight. He looked aggressive and precisely focused. And yet by the time he’d come to the front of the gym, all that tension had eased from his body and he’d been awash with concern for her. She didn’t understand how he shifted so easily between the two personas.
Did it bring him a feeling of freedom to be able to achieve such opposite parts of his personality? Were they really opposite? Or were they two parts of the same? Was his aggression in the ring like her focus and skill when crafting a tattoo or painting? Could he have been right about that? In Sky’s mind, it was like comparing apples and oranges, but when she was with Sawyer, there was no part of him that felt aggressive. The things he said and the way he moved, everything seemed natural and easy, not overly planned. And when she’d seen him in the ring for that brief time, she had to admit that even though he’d harnessed all that power and used it to knock his competitor to the ropes, he wasn’t swinging wildly or chasing the guy down. He moved like a panther on the prowl, slow, controlled, and when he struck, it was one fast punch, whereas the guy he was fighting was throwing a number of punches that Sawyer had easily blocked.
He was leaning over a glass case now, his eyes focused on something, his body relaxed, and when he turned and caught her looking at him, his smile shot straight through her.
They meandered through a few more shops and ate dinner at a café overlooking Commercial Street. After dinner they headed back toward her shop. The crowds had thinned, and the lights of the shops illuminated faces of a younger crowd. Music filtered out of bars, and drag queens stood out front of playhouses and bars handing out postcards with information on their shows. A guy playing a guitar sat on the steps of the library, surrounded by people listening to his music.
“I love it here,” Sky said as they stopped to watch the guitarist play. “I love the energy of the people and the music, the colorful shops. And the pier. Gosh, I love the pier so much, and the smell of the water at night, when the temperature dips and the fishy smell turns to something crispier, more alive. Everything about this town makes me feel good.”
“I’ve always liked the diversity of Provincetown, but it’s been ages since I’ve spent any time walking around here. Spending time with you reminds me of the things I’ve been putting on the back burner, like enjoying an evening out. It seems like I’ve been training hard and working on the renovations to the cottage forever. Before the addition of the handicapped ramps, I worked on other projects, like raising the floors to eliminate the step down to the living room, and before that there was the renovation of the bathrooms to make them handicap accessible.”
“Wow, you have been busy. I didn’t realize you’d done so much.”
“It’s all worth it. That house means a lot to our family, but, Sky, spending time with you is better than anything else in my life. When I’m with you it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. You make everything special. You make me feel alive in ways I haven’t for a long time.”
“We make each other feel that way, Sawyer. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”
“Even though I’m a boxer?”
She reached up and touched his cheek, then answered him with a smile. “Even though you’re a boxer.”
“You can’t imagine how much that means to me. This is my last fight, and I know I’m going at it hard, but I have to win. It’s one fight. Then I’ll retire, and you won’t have to worry about my fighting anymore.”
“One fight. I think we can weather that storm. Just don’t get hurt.”
“I’ll try not to get hurt. I want time with you, Sky. The last thing I want is to be injured. But you don’t have to worry. I’m an animal in the ring. I’ll kil—” He stopped himself, as if he didn’t want to use the word kill around her. “I’ve got this. I’ll win this fight.”
Sawyer had a new, even more confident bounce in his step as they walked down the street toward her shop and the music faded behind them. People chatted on the steps of Puzzle Me This, and a man sat with his black Labrador retriever on the stoop of Shop Therapy. The thick scent of sage hovered in the air like marijuana at a concert. Sky leaned her head on Sawyer’s shoulder as they walked, feeling relaxed and comfortable.
When they reached the shop, they both admired the freshly painted sign. Inky Skies was painted in a font that looked like a tattoo, with parts of each letter thickly painted and other lines so thin they were barely visible. Each letter was perfectly scripted. Teardrops appeared to be dripping from the bottom of the k in Skies. Clouds were painted above the words, fading as they sank halfway down behind the letters. Flecks of black spewed from the top of the k in Inky, fanning out into a flock of colorful birds, and in the bottom swell of the script I in Inky, Sky had painted a golden half-moon.
“I can’t get over the sign, but why didn’t you name it Inky Sky?”
She dug her keys from her bag and unlocked the front door before answering. He followed her into the dark shop, and she sensed him all around her—in the pulsing air, in the coiling heat in her belly, in her swelling heart—as if he’d already become a part of her. As she put her keys and bag on the counter and reached for her poetry book, she felt his father’s presence, too. She didn’t even know the man, but she somehow felt like she did from reading his poetry. Her friends thought she was mooning over C. J. Moon, but it was his words that spoke to her. The emotions he’d put down on paper that wound around her insides and tied themselves into a little knot of hope. And now his son—his wonderful, romantic, caring son was standing behind her as she lifted herself up on the counter and sat facing him.
Gazing into Sawyer’s intensely dark eyes as he moved between her legs and placed his hands on her hips, she knew his father had poured all of those emotions into him. Of course Sawyer was made of warmth and strength and loyal fiber. Of course he was thoughtful, loving, and romantic. Sawyer Bass was placed here on earth just for her.
Her pulse quickened with the thought. It was one of those thoughts that her friends might roll their eyes at and her brothers might scoff at, but Sky didn’t care about any of that. Everything he said spoke to her. Every touch, every glance, every whisper when she was in his arms, drew her further in. She already knew she’d never get enough of him. A tiny pulsing nag in the back of her mind ticked off the word fighter, and she rolled it over in her mind. Why would the universe drop a fighter in her lap? Someone who did something so far afield from the things she believed in?
His words sailed through her mind.
Because you’re strong enough to be weak when you need to. That’s a blessing. Most people are so hardened to their feelings that they mask them. I see it every day in the ring. Heck, Sky, I do it every day of my life.
The answer was easy.
Because you needed me, too.
“I didn’t name the shop after myself,” she explained. “I know everyone thinks I did, but I didn’t.” She flipped through the poetry book and began reading. “Sun drifts, moon breaches, cool air whispers into the night. Tears fall, arms comfort, birds in the distance take flight. Waning crescent, smother my cries, take me up to the inky skies.”
She gazed up at him with solemn eyes. “It’s one of my favorite poems.”
“It’s my father’s.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“It’s destiny,” she whispered.