“That’s good,” he said, hearing the strain in his words. “So you’re a tattoo artist, then?”
“At Dermamania, yeah.”
“How’d you get into that?”
She cleared her throat and rubbed her palms on her jeans while he wondered what about his question made her nervous. “The guy who owns it, Brian? I’ve known him for…God, so many years. He kind of got me into it because I was always into art. Then he got me the job at Darwin’s old shop, you remember that place? And when he struck out on his own, he took me with him.” She shrugged. “Dermamania put Darwin’s out of business. That was never the intent. But here I am, still with it.” She lapsed into silence for a moment. “Do you have any tattoos?”
Jared chuckled. “No. No inclination either.”
“To each his own.” She sighed at her shattered cell phone, then tossed it to the side. “And I suppose you don’t smoke either.”
“No.”
“Damn. I could really use one. I left my purse in Max’s frigging car.”
“If it’s any consolation, I would’ve asked you not to smoke in my truck anyway. Sorry.”
“Oh. Right.”
He shrugged. “My little girls are in here a lot, you understand.”
“Can I use your phone?” she asked, nearly cutting off his explanation. “I need to call off the dogs. I probably have a posse searching for me after the last text I sent my friend.”
Jared plucked it from his shirt pocket and passed it over, then sat in dumbstruck awe as the strangest one-half of a conversation he’d ever heard played out.
“Jan… Yeah, I’m okay. I got a ride from someone, and I’m on his phone… Hell if I fucking know, or care… I made him let me out of the car… You. Did. Not… No, you did not! Oh my God. Oh, my fucking… I’m gonna cut your ass tomorrow, you realize that, right?… You told him?… No, they should leave it alone… Am I not humiliated enough for you already, you have to do this to me?… Jesus. Just let everyone know to stand the hell down. Bye.”
As she hung up, she dropped her arm in her lap and the back of her blonde head met the seat. She banged it there a few more times with a groan of anguish. He caught himself stealing glances at her shadowed profile as the road allowed. Following the graceful curve of her forehead, down to the straight little nose, and finally the subtle pout of her lips. Sweet and classic, but with an edge.
“Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.
“Can you keep driving? Can we just, like, keep going forever so I never have to face anyone again in my life? Start completely over, no past, no labels, no mistakes to haunt us?”
No Macy Rodgers’s ex. Snickering, Jared adjusted the bill of his cap and gave her another sideways glance. It was a silly thought, of course, but he might as well humor her. “Well, you’d have to face me.”
“Sure, but you aren’t privy to most of my fuckups. Just this one.”
“We all have fuckups.”
“Mine are just more colossal than most, I suppose. At least to me they are. Where would we end up if we kept driving, anyway?”
“If we kept going this way, we’d eventually hit I-35, and that would take us damn near to Canada. My ex-wife has family up in Minnesota, and we’ve driven it before.” He shook his head. “Worst trip ever.”
“The North Pole wouldn’t be far enough. Start with Mars.”
“Aw, it can’t be all that bad.”
“It could be worse, Jared, but it could damn sure be better too.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth. His agreement with her statement, though, was almost immediately forgotten given the casual way she dropped his name in the middle. For whatever insane, logic-defying reason, the only thing he could think of was hearing her say it in his ear. Over and over.
Wiping a hand down his face, he shifted in his seat as his fly tightened uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with him? Picking up damsels in distress and then imagining… Shit. Had he been so long without a woman that he was turning into a creep?
Starla certainly was no damsel, though, and he had the feeling any distress she found herself in was of her own making. He could relate. Still, it wasn’t gonna happen. The last time he drowned his loneliness and miseries in a woman, he ended up married to her and raising twin girls. Not that he had any regrets; Ashley and Mia were his world. And Shelly, their mom, had been sweet and loving, a good wife any way you looked at it.
But no Macy.
And until he could bar thoughts like that from entering his mind, he had no business breaking his self-imposed celibacy. None whatsoever. It wasn’t fair to whomever he was with to constantly compare her to someone else, and he couldn’t stop. Just…couldn’t stop.
“Turn right up here,” Starla said quietly. She’d settled considerably after her outburst, seeming small and crumpled, as if she simply didn’t have anything left.
And a disturbing thought occurred to him. “Hey. This guy you were with tonight. He isn’t going to come back around and hassle you, is he?”
Her face tilted minutely toward him, briefly catching a streetlight as he made the turn she’d indicated. “I don’t think so. He was going to a party and was already well on his way to being drunk. He’s probably all the way by now.”
Jared’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure, and he liked that about as much as he liked the idea of a drunk idiot careening down his road. “All the more reason that he might do something stupid.”
“Maybe.” She sighed.
“Is there a friend you can stay with?”
“I have a roommate.”
“Is that enough?”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Don’t be too proud to tell someone if you need help. You shouldn’t have to handle these things by yourself.”
“Far too many people know too much about my business. It’s embarrassing, and it’s my own fault for letting them in. Better to start shutting them out than showing them what new lows I can reach.”
“Yeah, but if this guy might hurt you—”
“Max is more bark than bite.”
“He was enough bite that you made him put you out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. What would you really have done if I hadn’t come along?”
Her voice sharpened, defensiveness rising. “I guess I would be walking.”
“Lucky for you I live out that way. And I’m pretty sure I know where he was going to party, and it’s nowhere I’d ever want to hang out.”
“I hang out there all the time.”
He clamped his mouth shut on a retort. If she did, then Macy probably did too. The music and shouting and craziness that wafted up to his house every other weekend from that place had brought him out on the porch more than once, contemplating driving down there to shoot out their speakers and tell them to shut the hell up. It bothered him most when his daughters were home, though, and he couldn’t very well do that with them around.
And now he’d obviously insulted Starla, so he let the conversation drop while she directed him through a few more turns, finally pulling to a stop in front of a simple A-frame house in a cul-de-sac. “I so appreciate you picking me up,” she said at last, after the truck had idled for a few seconds with neither of them speaking or moving. “Really, you have no idea how much. Hell, I probably couldn’t have walked all that way. I’m really not trying to be a bitch, but I’ve got it handled from here. All right?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the determined little jut of her chin, but it chilled on his face at the thought of someone hurting her. “Do me one favor, at least?”
Starla’s eyes met his in the dimness. He didn’t know why, but something seemed to take her aback the moment their gazes touched. Her eyes widened, the lashes so long they cast shadows on her cheeks. “Wh— um. Ahem. What?”
“Not that you would, but don’t go out with that guy again. For any reason.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t. Ever. Promise.” A nervous laugh flitted from her lips, then she collected her destroyed phone a
nd turned for the door. One thing he could say about her: from her physical adornments to her attitude, she was certainly unlike any woman he’d ever been around.
Jared watched her climb carefully down from his truck, fighting the odd sense of regret at seeing her leave. Unfortunately, it won, forcing his mouth into motion again. “Do you need help getting your purse back?”
“No, thanks!” She slammed the door and scurried up to her front porch, hair twinkling incredibly in the security lights, without a single glance back. He watched while she banged on the door, while someone inside opened it, while she disappeared inside. Closing him out.
Damn.
That had been weird.
Chapter Three
Jared Stanton had the bluest fucking eyes she’d ever seen.
Even in his truck where it had been dark, she could tell. The overhead lights had caught them, making the color explode. Blue, painfully blue, blue as the damn springtime sky outside. She’d seen that color in her dreams all night, blue eyes, first Jared’s and then the cruel icy glint of Max’s and then—
“Holy fuck! You look like shit, dude!”
Ghost’s jubilant observation snatched Starla out of her reverie, and she snapped to attention as Brian Ross strolled yawning through the front door of Dermamania. What the hell was he doing here? After staring dumbfounded at him for a few seconds, she voiced that question.
“Someone’s got to keep you slackers in line.” He bumped fists with Ghost and turned his megawatt grin on Starla. She hadn’t seen him in so long, it was like a drop of cool water on a parched tongue, but immediately, she saw what Ghost meant. Poor guy looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in…well, three weeks. Which was the exact amount of time that had passed since Brian’s wife, Candace, gave birth to their son, Lyric.
Of course, the lack of rest hadn’t diminished his appeal at all.
Or dulled the blue of his eyes.
His olive skin was without blemish except for the slight shadowing under his eyes, his black hair as lustrous as usual if a tad longer and messier. He did look tired, he did look sleepy, but he looked happy. He looked at peace with the world, like he had all of it in the palm of his hand at last. Which was all she’d ever wanted for him.
She wanted to give him a hug. That was what a friend would do. That was what she’d done dozens, hell, hundreds of times before. But each one seemed to hurt more than the last, and she didn’t know how much more she could take, how much longer she could keep up the charade.
And she had to keep it up. It was either keep it up or leave.
“Why didn’t you bring the kid?” Ghost was asking.
Brian scoffed. “Please. Let’s shelter him from you as long as possible.”
“On the contrary. Expose him. I will teach him the ways.”
“The ways? The ways of what?”
“Of all things, dude. All things.”
“That’s not weird at all.”
“How’s Candace?” Janelle asked from across the room.
Brian brightened even further. “Amazing. She’s in mommy-beast mode right now. I can’t even get close sometimes. I try to tell her, ‘Baby, let me do something for you,’ and she snarls at me. I’m like, ‘I want to hold my son!’ and she bites my arm if I try to take him. I have marks.”
All of them had a laugh at the thought of good-natured Candace behaving that way. “I don’t blame her,” Janelle said. “The pictures you sent were so adorable. All that black hair! He’s so tiny. And just too perfect. I wouldn’t want him to leave my arms either.”
Brian beamed with fatherly pride. Starla died a little more inside.
Happiness, remember? He’s your dear friend, even if he’ll never in this lifetime be anything else, and he’s happy. Your life should be complete knowing that. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop—
She had to turn away before they saw her blink back a tear.
You are a stupid bitch, aren’t you?
What would Candace think of her?
Somehow, that hurt worst of all. Candace was a sweetheart, and every longing thought about Brian that filtered through Starla’s weak mind was a stark betrayal of her. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t have one damn thing to worry about—Starla might have her faults, but she would never, ever attempt to break up a happy home, but still. It would hurt Candace to know her good friend nurtured a raging infatuation with her husband. She would never trust Starla again. And who could blame her?
It had never been this bad. Starla had suffered years of platonic friendship with Brian Ross, some years harder on her heart than others, but never like this. She’d even managed Candace’s arrival in his life with grace—figuring it would be a temporary thing for him, a fling, nothing more than the thrill of seducing the good girl while her affluent family wanted his head on a platter. But it hadn’t stopped there. He’d fallen hard. Candace had moved into his life, his apartment, even his business, taking up residence most days in the back office of Dermamania. Then the news of his proposal. Then the shock of Candace’s unexpected pregnancy and their subsequent quickie wedding in Las Vegas. They’d bought a house. Brought their son into the world.
Every event had driven the knife of this aching, unwanted attraction deeper into Starla’s heart, and now there was love like Starla had never seen before shining in his weary indigo eyes. It was more than she could take. She didn’t have any more blood to bleed for him. What the hell was she going to do?
A sharp whistle brought her head around. Everyone was staring at her, so she jerked back around pretending she had something caught in her eye. “I’m talking to you,” Brian said.
“Sorry! Lost in my thoughts. Freaking allergies and contacts. Let me just…” Leaning close to her mirror, she feigned making an adjustment, praying they were all fooled.
Well, Janelle—who knew the whole sorry story—wouldn’t be. At all.
“Heard you had some trouble last night,” Brian said. Ghost scoffed.
Starla gave Janelle a surreptitious evil eye in the mirror. “It was nothing.” Thanks for calling him. I still plan to cut you later. Janelle’s reflection gave her an innocent shrug.
“What happened?” Brian asked.
“What usually happens? He got weird. I got out.”
“How’d you get home?” Ghost asked.
“Um…” Shit, how much to reveal here? Oh, your girlfriend’s ex who hates you took me home. “I got a ride.”
“From who?” Brian asked. “Tell me it was someone you knew.”
“Indirectly.”
“Damn, girl.” He sighed and boosted himself up on his counter while Starla’s blood began a slow boil. Not at him, not really—mostly at herself. That her disastrous love life had only caused her another humiliation for him to hear about. At least it was enough to piss her off, to clear up her eyes and give her the courage to meet his gaze, which was now troubled. Because of her.
“Is that what you came here for?” she asked. “To see what sort of mess I’ve gotten myself into this time?”
Brian’s dark brows drew together. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” She turned back to her station.
“Don’t fucking turn away from me. What’s the deal?”
Starla had to chuckle. She and Brian could yell and fight and she could want to scratch his eyes out, but both of them knew that tomorrow they would still be cool. Why couldn’t she find a relationship with as much security and stability as that?
She looked back at him. “I don’t need an audience for every mistake I make.”
“You’re usually the one playing out your mistakes on a stage for all of us to see.”
Ghost’s and Janelle’s gazes swung back and forth between them as if they were watching a fierce tennis match. “I didn’t ask Janelle to call you and drag you away from your wife and baby,” Starla snapped. “She took that upon herself.”
Brian indicated himself and Ghost with a wave of his hand. “Because she
thought one of us might be needed to get you away from that fucking asshole you keep going out with despite everything we’ve told you.”
“I even told you,” Ghost said solemnly to her. “That guy… The wheel is spinning, but the hamster’s dead. He’s not all with us.”
“See? And that’s coming from him.”
“What is this, a fucking intervention? You’re all ganging up on me now? Shit!” Her fingers itched to grab something, to throw it and storm out, to give them all something to really fucking talk about. She settled for clenching her hands at her sides, taking a deep breath, then diving toward the drawer where she kept a spare pack of cigarettes. “Fuck you guys,” she snarled as she rummaged, clumsy with rage. Where the hell were they? “You can pat yourselves on your fucking backs. Lesson learned, all right?” Ah! Her fingers grabbed the soft pack hard enough to crush the sweet cylinders to dust.
“Calm down,” Brian said, a hitch of laughter in his voice.
“Do not”—Starla straightened, holding the cigarettes out threateningly toward him—“tell me to calm down.”
“Calm down, Starla,” Ghost said, a twinkle of humor in his own eyes.
“Am I fucking funny to you?”
“You kind of are a little funny,” Brian said.
“It’s like being yapped at by a Chihuahua,” Ghost said. “You’re madder than a motherfucker but too little and cute to be scary.”
Brian dissolved into laughter. His musical, beautiful laughter, all at her expense. Just wonderful. She was a joke. Pulling a cigarette from the pack with her teeth, she grabbed a lighter from her drawer and muttered, “Fuck all y’all,” around the stick as she passed between the guys on her way to the back door.
Crisp, early spring air cooled her burning cheeks, and she flung her back against the outside wall and lit up. That first merciful inhalation calmed her racing heart. As she exhaled a long stream of smoke into the sky, watching it dissipate, she imagined all her outrage going with it. All her problems. If only it were that easy.