“You lied to me, you ugly bastard,” Erik growled at Jeremy.
“Lied?” Jeremy parroted, and Erik scowled at the overly offended tone. Next thing, Jeremy would be clutching his pearls. “Tell me one thing I lied about. Just one.”
“You told me your sister was a sweet, shy woman who wouldn’t cause any trouble.”
“No,” his friend objected. “I said she was quiet and wouldn’t be any trouble. And Camille is sweet.”
Erik snorted even as he thought about his new hire’s mouth. He had little doubt she would be like sugar on his tongue.
Again. Keeping to himself.
“I hate to break it to you, but she’s caused nothing but trouble since she’s been here. And quiet? She’s only quiet when she doesn’t ask me to change something. I swear to God, that woman’s motto is ‘I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission.’” He scanned the front of his shop. Had she changed the couches and tables aroundagain? “It’s not funny,” he snapped over the loud bark of laughter in his ear.
“I may have forgotten to mention she’s kind of particular and territorial.”
“You didn’t forget shit,” Erik muttered. “All I asked your sister to do was get with the other artists so she could add their appointments to the scheduling system. Next thing I know, I have a new system, alarms going off on phones that remind us when those clients are set to arrive and a damn coffee service for them when they’re in the chair. I’m not running a fucking tea social, Jeremy. This is a tattoo shop, for Christ’s sake.”
Whether or not Jeremy tried to contain his snicker, Erik didn’t know. But he could say the attempt was an epic fail.
“Let me just say this. Is the new system effective? Are the artists okay with the notifications? Because hell, I’m about to call her and see if I can get that shit for my shop. And three, are your clients happy? Because if you can answer all of these with a ‘yes,’ I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is those changes came on the tail end of her deciding the point of sale system was outdated. So she bought a new POS. And then ordered Forever Ink merchandise. I now sell T-shirts and leather cuffs along with tattoos. And right after that, she found a new supplier for our ink—”
“Is that why she called and asked me who I use? Huh.” Jeremy hummed. “Seriously though, Erik. You were paying too much for ink if you were still using the same place from back in Vegas. I mean, she’s actually saving you money.”
“Fuck you. And that’s after she switched the furniture in the lobby around so much I feel like I’m goddamn Alice in Wonderland every time I walk into my shop. Now—are you listening to me?—now she wants to sit down with me and talk about updating my logo. Hell. No. She’s not touching my logo.”
Yes, he was bitching but screw it. When Camille had started talking about changing anything on the logo that had been with him since he bought his first shop—the only thing he’d walked away with from the shit show his life had turned into in the four years before moving to Rose Bend—his balls had tried to crawl back up inside him.
No. He was drawing the line there.
“All right, all right, I get it about the logo. Maybe if you tried explaining to her the significance of it, you might not walk in tomorrow with a new design. She, of all people, would understand. After all the bullshit you went through, I get it.”
Not happening. He didn’t discuss those turbulent four years with anyone. Not with the friends he’d made since moving to Rose Bend, not with the artists who worked for him now and definitely not with the few persistent reporters who still called him. Jeremy only knew about it because he’d gone through that hell with him.
His friend’s sigh echoed in his ear. “I already know the answer to that. No. And all right, fine. But you do know keeping all that bottled up doesn’t make you the hot, broody type. That’s only in books. It just makes you a bitter asshole who’s afraid to trust. And I say that with all the love.”
“As long as you’re saying it with love,” Erik drawled.
But damn. Was that how Jeremy saw him? Was that how most people viewed him?
The truth hurt. He was bitter. He was afraid to trust. But when you were left with scars from third degree burns, who could blame a person for avoiding fire at all costs? His fire just happened to be believing in people.
More specifically, believing in people not to use or leave him. Sometimes both. Because that seemed to be a pattern in his life.
“Are you through crying now? I have to go. Got a back piece coming in. I might be heading up your way though. It’s the motorcycle rally this week, right?”
Erik nodded, though his friend couldn’t see the gesture. “Yeah, it kicks off tomorrow night, but people have already started riding into town.”
Every year, Rose Bend hosted a huge motorcycle ride and rally. For two weeks, musicians, vendors and artists converged on the small town for concerts, to sell their work and goods in booths and to entertain. The Glen, a wide, open field at the end of Main Street, became the site for all the festivities. Riders from all over the country visited to take part in them as well as the daily rides into the mountains. Proceeds from the event went to This Is Home, a local youth home.
Erik had been a little shocked when he’d attended his first rally. He’d visited Sturgis several years back, but this ride couldn’t be more different. It possessed an almost festival-like atmosphere. And it didn’t just bring out the motorcyclists, but their families, as well.
“Yeah, I might take some time here and visit the last week. Don’t let Camille know, just in case I can’t make it. Besides, if I told her I was coming, she’d tell me no. Probably think I want to check up on her.”
Erik snorted. “That is the reason.”
“Only part of it,” Jeremy argued. “Do me a favor and take it easy on her, okay? We didn’t have it easy growing up. Losing our parents early and me having to take over as her guardian at eighteen. I did the best I could with her, but all she’s known is people she loves being taken from her. And now this. She’s trying to find a place for herself again. Which likely explains why she’s going a little hard on your shop.”
