master of keeping the past a secret. Turns out she don’t got nothing on you.”
I just grunted in response.
The truth was I never really thought about my past. I had put my heart on the line after I followed Poppy to college, watched it get shredded, and had decided then and there I was never going to invest myself anything or anyone like that ever again. I dropped out of school, not like I really had a choice after the incident with the quarterback anyway, and ended up doing the same thing Salem did, packed a bag and hit the road, leaving everything behind.
I left Texas—all the memories she held, football, college, and Poppy Cruz in the dust, where they had stayed until a few weeks ago when Salem sauntered back into my life like she had never left it.
Jet was right. I was twisted about Salem being in Denver. So twisted that I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to get myself straight again as long as she was around. That girl had ruined me once when I was young. I would never forget the way I felt when she walked away. I didn’t want Salem anywhere near me. I couldn’t trust myself not to fall back into caring about her, trusting her, being captivated by her, only to have her move on once again, leaving me empty and alone.
I looked at the very pretty blond woman standing across the desk from me. She was obviously nervous. Noticeably out of her element . . . the tailored pantsuit and the Gucci purse on her arm were a dead giveaway that this was probably the first time in her life that she had stepped foot in a tattoo parlor. I gave her my most welcoming smile and cocked a brow at her as she put her manicured hands on the desk in front of me. It was my job to manage the traffic, to make sure clients knew what they were getting and that they were matched with the right artist. It was also my job to make sure I didn’t let someone make a mistake that they would be stuck with on their skin forever.
The woman was probably the same age as me, around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, but she had that vibe about her that broadcast that she wasn’t really sure what she was doing at the Saints of Denver. This was the new shop Nash had opened after his dad had passed. It was right in the heart of the trendy, more upscale part of LoDo and far more modern and slick than the shop that was on Capitol off of Colfax. The artists that worked here had been handpicked by Rule and Nash. They were skilled and pretty awesome, and since this was a brand-new shop, and Nash wanted to build a reputation for it as well as have it double as a retail space for clothes and other tattoo-themed merchandise, I was spending more of my time here than at the shop where the guys were based. They rotated days so that one of them was always at the new shop to help drive traffic in through the doors.
Today was Rowdy’s day at the shop and normally that would thrill me—if he hadn’t been determined to pretend like we didn’t know each other and that I didn’t exist. It was going on a month, and every time those sky-blue eyes landed on me he looked away a second later and his jaw ticked in aggravation. I tried to corner him, tried to get him alone more than once so we could talk it all out, but the boy was good at evading me and I had never had to chase a man before, so I wasn’t really sure how to go about it and not seem desperate.
I saw the blonde gulp and she shifted nervously and I asked her, “How are you doing, doll?”
She snapped her gaze to me and her lips parted a little. She really was stunning in a very refined and country-club kind of way. Her eyes were the color of the ocean and looked terrified as she blinked at me.
“I . . .” She paused and I saw her gaze dart up to somewhere over the top of my head as I could literally feel Rowdy walk up behind me. I was so attuned to him, so aware of the space he took up and the way he smelled and affected the air around him, that I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that he was there. The pretty professional gulped again and her eyes popped open even wider. Rowdy was hot, and when he smiled it was hard not to fall in love, but this woman looked like she was about ready to faint or throw up.
“Can I answer any questions for you, darlin’?”
Over the weeks I had learned fast that Rowdy was a big-time flirt. He always had a grin, always had a soft word and special little gleam in his eye for a pretty girl. His charm was effortless and so was the light humor he used to make his clients and friends feel at ease. If I hadn’t known the little boy he used to be, I would’ve taken it at face value, but I knew there was more to that careless demeanor and laid-back persona he showed the world.
Watching the color flee from the woman’s face as she gazed up at Rowdy over my shoulder, I asked her, “Do you want to sit down for a minute and look though portfolios or something? I can get you a glass of water and we can talk about what brought you to the Saints of Denver today.” I smiled at her again, hoping it would help calm her down and maybe distract her from whatever had her paralyzed in terror.
Slowly her perfectly coiffed head shook side to side in the negative. She lifted her hands off the counter and I watched them as they curled into tight fists at her sides. She blinked at me again and then jerked her gaze back up to where Rowdy was looming behind me and she took a stumbling step back.
“I’m just not ready for this.”
That was a pretty extreme response to chickening out on getting some ink, but I wasn’t the type to judge. I’d rather have her get out now than waste everyone’s time and back out on the day of the appointment or have a freak-out once she hit the chair. That was never good for business.
“You know where to find us if you change your mind.”
Rowdy’s voice oozed comfort and had a lull to it that seemed to calm her down. She clutched her purse and turned in a sort of frantic whirl and bolted for the door. It was odd, but definitely not the weirdest thing I had ever seen in a tattoo shop. I felt Rowdy shift behind me and knew he was going to walk away from me again without saying anything and I was done letting him ignore me.
Even though the shop was packed and the other artists all had clients they were working on, I still jumped up from the chair I was sitting in and grabbed the front of his shirt. It was black and had white piping on it with shiny pearl snaps up the front and I had been admiring all day the way the rolled-up sleeves showed off the colorful artwork that covered both of his arms. I spent a good portion of my day checking him out and didn’t feel bad about it at all. His sandy-blond brows dipped down at me and the anchor that covered the side of his neck started to jump when he reached up and wrapped his fingers around my wrist.
“Let go.”
I instinctively tugged him closer so that he was forced to bend down a little, and those summer-sky eyes were all I could see.
“Stop avoiding me.” My tone was curt, but I was done playing games with him. We had to work together, but more than that, I was here for him and at some point he was going to have to know that and understand the importance of it.
“I’m not avoiding you.” All the welcome and honeyed sweetness that usually coated his words were missing when he talked to me. I saw the corner of his eyes twitch when I pulled him even closer so that were almost sharing a breath.
“Yes, you are and I’m over it. You don’t want to talk to me, don’t want to catch up with me, then that’s fine, but you haven’t even asked about Pop—” I didn’t get the rest of her name out of my mouth before his other hand slapped over my mouth and he used the hand he already had around my wrist to jerk me around
