Chapter Two
SKY CONCENTRATED ON tattooing the Gothic font that the girl lying on her table had chosen for the line she’d found scribbled on a piece of paper and had to have etched into her skin. In your eyes I found myself. Sky had done all sorts of tattoos over the last few years, and some of the most beautiful were the lines of text that people found lying around Provincetown, like this one. Obviously someone hadn’t been careful with their poetry to continually leave pieces all over town. Customers came in with poetic lines written on napkins, crumpled receipts, and one girl even had a picture of something written in the sand. Of all the tattoos Sky had done, it was the sayings that touched her the deepest.
She thought about the song Sawyer Bass had sung last night, of the passion in his voice. Each word sounded as if it had been drawn straight from the blood in his veins. Darkness isn’t enough. Miles are too close. Nothing can erase you, wipe you clean, take away the pain you left behind. The way he’d closed his eyes during the entire song made her wonder if he was hoping the words would wipe his memories clean or bring back whomever he was singing about. A woman, she imagined.
She’d watched his eyes before he’d left the stage. He didn’t look to see who was watching him or try to catch the eyes of the prettiest girls. For a brief moment he’d looked as if he wasn’t seeing anything at all. And then his eyes had shifted to her, and she’d quickly averted her gaze back to her poetry book. She wondered what he’d seen when he’d looked at her. Sky was a free spirit, and she’d learned over the years to love herself for who she was, rather than comparing herself to others. She rarely gave too much importance to what people thought about her, but something about his voice, his eyes, and the song he’d sung had spoken to her, and she wondered…Did he see what she felt? That the girl who used to be happy to go to open mic night and sing and dance with anyone who asked had taken some strange turn over the last year, seeking something more? Or did he see the girl she’d been? Or someone different altogether? She’d changed so much over the last few months—finally spreading her wings, moving out from her brothers’ houses, where she was living to save money while she ran her father’s shop, and finally buying her own shop. She’d also noticed other changes in herself, like a feeling of restlessness. Loneliness? She didn’t think so, but maybe. Seeing her best friends fall in love, get married, and now start their families had definitely affected her.
How could someone with so many friends be lonely?
She let that thought fall away to focus on the tattoo again, taking comfort in the hum of the tattoo gun and the beauty of each line she created. When she finished, she cleaned up the customer’s newly inked area and helped the raven-haired girl off the table.
“I think I saw you the other night. Do you work at the Governor Bradford’s?”
“Yeah, nights. Did I wait on you? I usually remember my customers, but I don’t remember you.”
“Yes, but I didn’t order. My brother did—as he checked you out, of course.”
“Really? Well, if he’s as hot as you are pretty, maybe I’ll have to look for him next time.” She laughed. “Thank you so much for fitting me in for the tattoo. My name’s Cree, by the way. Well, it’s Lucretia, but everyone calls me Cree. I’ll definitely be back.” She followed Sky to the register. “Can I throw this in your trash?”
“Sure. I’m Sky, by the way.”
“Sky, as in Inky Skies. Love it.”
She handed Sky the paper that had the tattoo written on it. Sky set it in a basket, where she’d been keeping the tattoos that had spoken to her since she started working for the previous owner. She kept passages written on slips of papers, receipts, and napkins. She’d begun thinking of whoever had written them as the P-town poet. Shouldn’t a poet be more careful with his or her poems? Was the poet some type of bohemian who meant to leave a few lines around town? They weren’t ever full poems, just snippets found in odd places like restaurants, bars, and in one case, in the sand.
“That’s seventy even,” she said to Cree.
Sky moved her poetry book to the other side of the register as Lizzie popped her head in the front door, looking cute in a pink miniskirt and white tank top. Her hair was pinned up in a high ponytail. “Hey, Sky. Lunch?”
Sky looked up from the register. “Can’t, sorry. I have some painting to do, and I want to organize the back room.”
“Okay, no worries.” Lizzie waved as Sky gave Cree her change.
After Cree left, Sky went to clean up her workstation, thinking about the grand opening celebration. She still had several weeks before the celebration, but she had a list of people to talk to about it. She envisioned music and balloons, a festive event.
“Excuse me?”
A shiver ran down her back at the sound of the familiar deep voice she’d heard in her dreams last night. She turned and found Sawyer Bass standing just inside the front door, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white T-shirt and looking even more striking—rugged, manly—than he had last night. She tried to fit Hunter’s description—rough—to the man, but he had a warm and friendly smile that reached his dark eyes and softened all those hard elements. No wonder his eyes had caught her interest. They were deep-set, with lashes so lush they looked lined and mysterious, and held the shiny darkness of obsidian rock. He closed the distance between them while Sky tried to find her voice.
“Hi,” he said casually. Then his gorgeous eyes widened with surprise. “I saw you at Governor Bradford’s last night, right? With your boyfriend? You were reading.”
Sky set down the towel she was using to wipe the table, trying to quiet the thoughts running through her mind. You’re even hotter in the daylight. Look at those abs pressing against your shirt. Wait. What did you ask me? Governor Bradford’s, right.
“Yes. No. I mean, I was there, but I wasn’t with my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” Ramble much? Her brain refused to fire properly, which was stupid, because she saw good-looking people every day in the shop. This guy shouldn’t throw her off her game like this. Why did he make her feel like she had a mouth full of nails? He fidgeted with something in his hand, appearing slightly nervous himself, which made her feel a little better.
Which was also stupid.
“My mistake. The way you were sitting, I just assumed…” He glanced around the shop.
“The bane of my existence. Being overprotected.” Maybe Blue and Hunter did block her after all.
“I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” He held her stare, and there was no mistaking the spark of interest in his eyes. “I’d like to get a tattoo.”
“Sure. Come on back. What did you have in mind?” She led him to her workstation, hoping he wanted a tattoo on his forearm, because if he wanted it on any other part of his body, it would be way too hard for her to concentrate.
His eyes slid over the back of the shop. Inky Skies was small and still a little gritty while the renovations were being done. Sky had tried to liven it up, covering the scuffs in the walls with scarves and pictures, and she’d put up folding screens in the back of the room to mask the unfinished shelves that ran across the back wall. She had even draped a few of her colorful scarves over the black panels of the screens, giving the area the look of a makeshift dressing room, like they had in the Himalayan shop around the corner. She liked the comfortable look of it, even if it wasn’t yet ideal.
Sawyer’s gaze returned to Sky, and her pulse quickened. He handed her a slip of paper, then reached over his back and pulled his shirt off. Sky’s mouth went dry at the sight of his muscular pecs, ripped abs, and those incredibly sexy muscles that made a perfect vee and disappeared down the front of his pants. She loved creating tattoos, but the idea of putting anything other than her hands or mouth on his gorgeous body made her almost as weak in the knees as the idea of putting her hands or mouth on him did.
“This is what I’d like.” He pointed his thumb at the chair behind him. “Is that where I should sit?”
She blinked away her stupor. “Yes. Where do you want the tattoo?”
“On my back. Anywhere you can fit it is fine.”
Sky dropped her eyes as she unfolded the paper to look at the design. It wasn’t a design at all, but words. Liquid to dust, shattered not broken. What was it about this place that brought all of these random phrases into her shop? She heard him sitting in the chair and lifted her eyes. He was straddling the chair, leaning on his arms, which were crossed over the back of it. His back was covered with words, from the ridge of his shoulders to the waist of his jeans. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen—such passion inked into the sculpted contours of his smooth skin. Words arched across his scapula and stretched over his flanks. Sky had tattooed all sorts of body parts, and she’d seen tattoos that ran the gamut from sweet to gruesome. To each his own had always been her motto. But this…The mixture of harsh and tender words on such a powerful man momentarily stole her ability to function.
Without any forethought, she reached out and touched his skin. It was hot and smooth. Flawless, save for the inked words. Her eyes slid slowly over the words: Fluid like the wind, hard as stone. Unconditional. Stolen. Transparent. What did these words mean to him? Down his spine words were strung together like a ladder, the taller letters touching the ones above, tying them together. Lies, rage, tenderness, alone, forever, fragile—
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes heavy, as if he were tired, and a smile on his lips, softening the sharp edge of his darkly whiskered jaw.
“Wherever you can fit it in. I’m not picky.”
She looked down at the paper he’d given her and read the words again. “Where did you get this?” She had to know if he was the one leaving things like this all over Provincetown.
He shrugged and looked away again, his voice going cold. “Picked it up somewhere.”
She was surprised when disappointment washed through her. After hearing him sing, seeing his back, and seeing the P-town poet’s signature scrap of paper, she thought maybe she’d solved the mystery. She pulled up her stool and looked more carefully at his back, noticing the different sizes and fonts. Now that the awe had worn off a bit, she saw that there was plenty of room for her to fit these, and many more words, if he so desired.
“Do you have tattoos only on your back?” she asked.
He turned and looked at her again, his eyes darker, more sensual, sending a surprising rush of heat through her. “Only those that tread the landscape get to find that out.”
Yes, please. “Oh…Sorry.” She picked up her tattoo gun to give herself something to focus on besides that before trying to respond again, then managed, “Do you have a font in mind?”
“You pick.” His thick dark brows knitted together. Then he turned away, leaned his cheek on his forearm, and closed his eyes, as if he hadn’t made her hot, then flustered, then hot all over again.
She was used to clients allowing her to choose fonts and even designs, but she had so many more questions for him. She tried to tamp them down as she moved closer, spreading her legs so his hip was between them, allowing her to lean in closer with the hopes of her hand remaining steady.
“Don’t you have to make a copy of the words or something, then transfer that to my back?”
“I’m a freehand artist. Unless you want me to use a guide?”
“No. Freehand is better, actually.” His eyes opened and rolled down her body again. “You must be really good with your hands.”
Wanna find out? Holy cow!
“I’d like to think so.” She was not normally the type of girl who thought about touching and finding out things with guys she didn’t know. Sawyer was making her mind go in ten different directions, and she needed to get a grip before her sexy thoughts came streaming from her lips.
She was thankful when he rested his head on his arms again and closed his eyes, allowing her racing pulse to settle. She looked over his back for the right place for the tattoo, forcing her mind into artist mode. He’s a canvas. A very delicious-looking canvas.
“Between your shoulder blades okay? With a script font? I want to soften the words, unless you want me to go the other way—blocky or Gothic?”
“Softening is good, and like I said, wherever you think you can fit them is fine.”
She cleaned the area between his shoulder blades. “I haven’t seen you around. Where did you have these other tats done?”
“Different places around New York, Boston, Hyannis…”
She wanted to ask if he traveled often, but she resisted the urge, not wanting to become any more distracted by him than she already was.
“I’m going to start, okay?” She watched his back lift with a long inhalation, and when he exhaled all his muscles relaxed.
“Okay,” he said in a soft tone. “How long have you been tattooing?”
She concentrated on the tattoo as she answered. “Several years. I love all kinds of art. And music, actually. I really liked the song you sang last night. Did you write it?”
He didn’t answer for so long that she wondered if he was going to. He finally said, “Yes.”
“It was beautiful. Are you a songwriter?” Way to keep from getting distracted.
“No.”
For a man with so many words on his back, he said very few.
She worked in silence, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles beneath her hand. She knew better than to ask why people chose certain tattoos even though she was dying to know more about his word obsession. It rivaled hers, and that made him even more appealing. After she finished the third word, she sat back and took a momentary break.
“Music has always been a calming influence in my life. Do you write songs often, like a hobby, or…?”
“When inspiration hits. What about you? Do you have any hobbies?”
She thought about that as she finished the tattoo. Reading poetry. Listening to music. Hanging out with her friends. Were those hobbies?
“I guess just about everything I do is a hobby.” She didn’t even know if that made sense, but it felt like the truth. “I don’t really consider myself a career anything, so even this is kind of a hobby. I’ll do it until I fall out of love with it, I guess. Although I don’t see that happening for a very long time.”
“That makes you even more interesting. You follow your heart. That’s what I do, too.”
Sky melted a little right there on the stool, sitting beside Sawyer Bass, with his smooth voice, hot bod, and wordy back. It was all she could do to remember to pick up the hand mirror to show him the tattoo. She rose to her feet and reached for his hand. She had no idea why she did it and was even more stunned when he took her hand and his lips curved up in that easy smile again as he followed her to the full-length mirror in the back of the room. He turned and assessed the tattoo in the reflection of his back in the hand mirror.
“You are good with your hands,” he said with a more mischievous grin.
“I guess that makes us even, since you’re good with words, Sawyer.”
His brows knitted together again. “You know my name?”
“Last night. They announced your name, remember?”
“Oh, right. Well, it seems I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”
“Sky. Sky Lacroux.” Their eyes held, and whatever had turned her brother off last night went out the door. Everything about Sawyer Bass turned her on, from the mysterious look in his eyes to the words etched in his back—and if he was rough, as Hunter assessed, then she wanted to experience it firsthand.
“That’s a beautiful name.” He handed her the mirror, and their fingers brushed, sending a shiver through her.
He followed her back to where he’d left his shirt and pulled it on. Sky instantly missed the sight of his flesh. At the register he picked up her book of poetry, then met her gaze again as he pulled out his credit card.
“Are you a fan of C. J. Moon?”
She laughed as she said, “I’m in love with C. J. Moon.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said as he ran his credit card through the machine. “My friends think I need an intervention because if I could find more information on him, I’d probably track him down like the worst kind of fangirl there is.”
He cocked a brow. “Ah, so you’re a stalker?”
“Of the worst kind,” Blue said as he came through the door. “She’s got a serious ice cream addiction, too.” He held out a hand in greeting. “Sawyer Bass, right? We saw you play last night. Did she stalk you and trick you into coming here? Or are you stalking her? I only caught the stalker part as I came through the door.”
Sky rolled her eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Blue. You’re not the boyfriend, right?” Sawyer smiled as he shook his hand.
“I see we’ve already cleared up our relationship status.” Blue eyed Sky with a look that clearly said, I knew you were hot for him. “Friends without benefits—beyond a place to crash, that is. Oh, and kitty delivery service. Merlin’s upstairs.”
“Thanks, Blue. You’re a savior.” She answered Sawyer’s wrinkled brow with, “Merlin is my cat. He was at the groomer’s this afternoon, and Blue picked him up for me.”
“That was nice of him,” Sawyer said. “If you’re really interested in knowing more about C. J. Moon, I’d be happy to take you over to one of the places he wrote about. How late do you work tonight?”
Tonight?
Two of the best-looking guys in Provincetown were looking at her. One was drinking her in like she was delectable enough to eat, and the other had an I-told-you-so grin across his face. Heaven help her, because right at that moment she wanted to hug Blue and say, You were right! then jump into Sawyer’s arms and let him see how tasty she really was. Maybe she was having some sort of hormonal episode, because she wasn’t a jump-in-the-sack type of girl. She had no idea why her body felt electrified and her stomach felt like she’d swallowed a nest of wasps, other than pure, unadulterated lust.
And it had been way too long since she’d felt anything like it.
“I can take off when I’m done for the night.” She flipped through her appointment book.
“You know Moon?” Blue asked.
“I have a thing for poetry,” Sawyer said. “What about you? Are you a fan of his work?”
Blue held his hands up and shook his head. “No. Never read it, but I have the pleasure of watching Sky bury her nose in his books almost every day.”
“If I don’t get swamped,” Sky interjected, “I think I can close around seven.”
“Great. Why don’t I swing by then?”
Sky knew she was grinning like a fool and didn’t care. “Sounds great.”
“Well, so much for a bonfire tonight,” Blue said.
“I’m sorry, Blue,” Sky said, although she wasn’t at all sorry about accepting a date with Sawyer. “Is that why you came by?”
“Yeah, but no biggie. You guys have fun.”
“Why don’t you ask Lizzie?” she asked hopefully.
Blue shook his head. “I’ll call you later.” He turned his attention back to Sawyer and said, “Nice to meet you. Have fun tracking down Moon’s muse, and take good care of my girl.”
“Your girl?” Sky’s jaw dropped open. Blue had never said anything like that before.
Blue smirked. “My friend. You know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry,” Sawyer said. “I wouldn’t dream of letting anything happen to her.”
Blue turned to leave, glancing quickly over his shoulder one last time before heading out the front door as a group of twentysomethings came in. They were laughing and talking as they looked over the sample tattoos hanging on the front walls.
“You sure there’s nothing between you two?” Sawyer asked. “I don’t want to come between you guys. You seem pretty close.”
“Of course not. We’re friends. He’s just being weirdly protective.” Although she had no idea why.
“I guess I’m like that with my friends’ sisters. I get it.”
“I’m glad, because I couldn’t go out with a guy who didn’t understand my relationship with Blue. He’s a good friend, and I’d never want to mess that up.” She smiled at the people milling about in the reception area. “Can I help you guys with something?”
“We want to get inked, but we need to decide who’s getting what,” said a tall blond guy wearing yellow board shorts, a tight tank, and a shoulder full of colorful ink.
“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready.”
Sawyer held up the paper he’d brought with him. “Trash?”
She took the paper and placed it in the basket with the others.
“You keep the tats you do?”
“Just the ones that speak to me. Besides C. J. Moon and ice cream, I guess I harbor a little word obsession of my own,” she admitted.
The sensual look in his eyes had returned. “That makes you even sexier. Should I pick you up here?”
“Sure,” she said, or at least she thought she did. She was having trouble thinking past his compliment.