Beloved Ink Read online

  While resting on the couch, he picked her up and held her at an arm’s length, where she couldn’t reach his face.

  She laughed, and he knew she’d gotten what she’d wanted in the first place.

  He glanced toward the kitchen, where Crystal and Dylan had disappeared. Since Emily wasn’t allowed in there while Crystal was cooking, that more or less made Ben the unofficial babysitter. Dylan was supposed to be watching Emily, but he’d snuck into the kitchen, probably to fawn over Crystal.

  Ben didn’t mind. Emily liked him, and he had to admit that kids could be cute when they weren’t your permanent responsibility.

  “Ralph,” Emily said when he sat her back down on the couch.

  “Ralph, Ralph!” She bounced up and down on the cushion.

  “Again?” He made a face of mock-surprise. Emily was obsessed with the movie Wreck it Ralph and demanded to watch it every time she visited. She knew Ben was the weak link who’d give in after a minimal amount of begging.

  “Ralph!” She stared up at him with big, green eyes, looking painfully hopeful. She wasn’t quite two, which meant her cheeks were still ridiculously chubby and her dark, curly hair was just long enough for Crystal to snap into a glittery barrette that flopped around when Emily bounced on the couch cushions.

  “Fine.” He turned on his streaming service and flipped through titles until he got to Wreck it Ralph, which he’d bought months ago.

  He was planning to give Emily a DVD copy for her birthday next month, that way Crystal could play it for her at home.

  It seemed like it’d be a perfect gift not only for Emily, but for Crystal too. Wreck it Ralph had a way of holding Emily spellbound, quieter than most kids her age knew how to be.

  When Crystal floated into the room a few minutes later, the smile on her face made it obvious Dylan had been buttering her up.

  “Dinner’s ready, Ben. I made chicken parmesan. Plus there’s salad and I have brownies in the oven for dessert.”

  “Great.” He flipped off the TV and Emily let out a bereaved squeak.

  Crystal scooped her up and carried her into the kitchen / dining area, where three chairs and a highchair were crowded around a small table.

  Plates of chicken and pasta were already waiting, along with bowls of salad.

  “Wow,” Ben said as he pulled up a seat next to Dylan. “There’s a lot of cheese.”

  The mozzarella bubbled over the chicken, sprawling over the tomato sauce.

  “Well, I know how serious you take cheat day…” Crystal reached for a bottle of vinaigrette dressing and sprinkled some onto her salad. “Plus, I burnt the chicken. Just a tiny bit. Singed, really.”

  Ben arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah… Guess I got a little distracted.”

  “Distracted? When you were in the kitchen and Emily was out there being a little angel watching TV? Hmm.”

  He bit his tongue to keep from laughing as Crystal blushed and Dylan glared at him.

  Ben stared right back.

  “I’m sure it’ll be perfect, Crystal,” Dylan said, cutting into his dinner. “And don’t let Ben get to you – I’ve seen him eat quantities of cheese that could sink the Titanic.”

  “Maybe,” Ben said, slicing through the epic mound of cheese and sauce, into the chicken’s juicy interior, “but I’d have already hit my daily quota if it wasn’t cheat day.”

  “Cheesesteaks again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you knew Crystal was cooking dinner. Don’t act like you have anything like a daily cheese quota.”

  Ben shrugged. “I’m not the one who chose lunch; I was just along for the experience.”

  “Who chose?” Dylan laid down his fork and picked up his water glass.

  The tomato sauce on Ben’s tongue suddenly felt acidic. His gut tied itself in a tight knot of lust as his mind flashed back to earlier that day.

  “Hannah,” he said, unable to keep his satisfaction out of his voice.

  “Really?”

  “Ran into her at the gym. She just joined, apparently.”

  Crystal was no longer eating, just sitting there with a fork in hand, looking at Ben.

  Emily took advantage of her mother’s distraction by subtly dropping a handful of noodles onto the floor.

  “Was it a date?” she asked.

  “No.” Ben kept cutting into his food, carving the chicken into slices. “We grabbed lunch; that’s all.”

  “Oh, okay.” Crystal returned her attention to her food, although Ben caught her sneaking curious looks at him, like she suspected him of holding back.

  A prickling sense of annoyance ran down his spine, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. He liked Crystal in the same way he imagined he’d have liked a sister, if he’d had one. But while sitting at the table with her, Dylan and Emily, he was aware that he was an extra wheel.

  One of these things does not belong. The apartment was his home as much as Dylan’s – they split the rent and the utilities – but when Crystal and Emily were there, they clicked with Dylan like one happy little family.

  It was weird to be the only one who didn’t fit into that. Sometimes, he wondered whether Dylan would’ve preferred to live with Crystal but was postponing it for Ben’s sake. The idea made him feel pathetic, so he’d flat-out asked Dylan a few weeks ago.

  Dylan had said no, that he and Crystal both preferred to live separately for the time being. That they took a step like moving in together seriously and weren’t ready for it.

  Ben understood that moving in with someone was serious when you had a kid, but the idea that Dylan might be lying was a nagging worry he couldn’t let go. They seemed so happy together … why didn’t they want to be like that all the time?

  Maybe Dylan was afraid to be with someone 24/7 because of his bipolar disorder. Maybe he wanted to have the option to pull back and cool down when he needed to. An escape so he could break down and then put himself back together without having a captive audience made up of people he didn’t want to disappoint.

  Ben could understand wanting that. But Dylan seemed a lot more in control of himself and his life than Ben felt.

  The oven timer went off, and Crystal jumped up. “The brownies are done.”

  Emily clapped like she knew exactly what that meant.

  A rich chocolate aroma drifted from the kitchen as Crystal opened the oven. “Ooh, they look good.”

  “They smell great, baby.” Dylan turned and watched Crystal remove the oven mitts from her hands, then fan away the heat as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  Ben’s mind drifted to Hannah. It was easy to imagine her holding his attention like that: capturing it and keeping it for good. Every little thing she did was worth watching, a trigger for his desire.

  But she said she didn’t want to date, and although he didn’t know the specifics, he knew it was because she’d been burnt by someone in San Francisco. Hurt bad enough to leave and not look back. The idea of starting a new relationship probably seemed like a minefield in the center of a shit storm to her.

  He couldn’t blame her. Especially not when he knew getting close to someone would be exactly that for him. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. Not for a single second.

  * * * * *

  Hannah started a sleeve on Monday, then did three consults. Afterward, she left Hot Ink, bidding Mina goodbye on the way out, and drove home.

  She didn’t stay long, just zipped into her room to put on her new workout clothes, then back to her car. It was ridiculous how giddy she felt driving to the gym, as if working out were some sort of naughty indulgence. But she couldn’t deny the feeling. The thought of seeing Ben put a positive spin on what had been a daunting experience before he’d intervened.

  She’d written down the ideas he’d given her for a fitness routine. Today would be legs and abs day. According to Ben, working out the lower body was the most strenuous day for most people, so it was best to get it out of the way ea
rly in the week when your body was fresh.

  She’d figured Monday might as well be the first day of her workout routine. Yesterday she’d sampled a variety of exercises, just to learn the form. Today was her first serious workout day.

  Hopefully, the physical exertion really would be the hardest part. If Ben was there, she had a feeling that keeping her focus on her workout instead of him would prove the most challenging aspect of her gym session.

  That feeling, along with her giddiness, dissolved the moment she walked through the doors. After flashing her card beneath the scanner, she walked into the open, brightly-lit space that was the first floor. Dozens of people were already there, and although they appeared to be absorbed in their workouts, she couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Going to the gym brought a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘alone in a crowd’.

  Her gaze kept drifting to people who looked impossibly fit, and she marveled at how confident they appeared, like they’d been born exercising. She was armed with Ben’s tips, but she still expected to look awkward in comparison to the fitness veterans who wore spandex and sweat like others might wear designer clothing.

  Scanning the room, she saw no sign of Ben. But then, if he was there, he was probably upstairs with the free weights.

  Forging ahead, she went straight upstairs to the second floor. No need to warm up on the treadmill this time – she hated running and saw no reason to torture herself now that she knew how to do something more in line with her goals.

  She attacked squats first. Heading to an empty rack, she spent a minute warming up, then fitted a barbell with the same weights she’d used the day before when Ben had shown her how to do the exercise. After shouldering the barbell and making her way through her first set, she felt surprisingly confident.

  She’d remembered the form, and a faint burn had spread through her thighs and butt. The feeling was encouraging – both of those were areas she wouldn’t mind toning up.

  By the time she finished with the squats, she no longer felt so out of place. On her way back downstairs to use the leg press machine, she noticed a couple guys checking her out. It inspired a mild ego boost undermined by a sense of wariness.

  Not that she felt threatened by those men in particular, but ever since things had blown up in her face with Zander, male attention had a way of bringing those memories back. The only exception so far had been Ben. His date invitation at Hot Ink had put her on edge, but since then his attention had become something she felt comfortable with.

  Something she craved, if she was being honest with herself. Which she tried not to be.

  She worked up a sweat on the leg press machine and by the time she finished, she felt as if someone had given her a swift kick in each of her ass cheeks. Taking that as a good sign, she consulted the list of exercises she’d tucked into the secret pocket in the waistband of her workout tights.

  She was just about to hunt down the leg curl machine when a familiar silhouette entered her peripheral vision and stopped her in her tracks.

  Ben looked irresistible, his muscles on display in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that wasn’t dampened with sweat yet. His skin was dry too, and he carried a full water bottle. He appeared to be headed upstairs, until he stopped, his gaze snapping to hers.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Hey.” Hannah’s greeting started normally, but ended on a breathy note when Ben smiled at her.

  “Hey. You look like you’ve been here a while.”

  She touched her temple self-consciously, pushing a stray wisp of hair away from her sweaty skin. “I’ve got a start on leg and abs day.”

  “Nice.”

  She shrugged. “Gotta get some exercise if cheesesteaks are going to be a regular part of my life now.”

  “Are they?” He grinned.

  “I think I’m past the point of no return.”

  Her answer seemed to please him. “Welcome to the dark side. I was planning to grab something to eat after my workout – you hungry?”

  She found herself agreeing to grab dinner with him before she could second-guess herself. It felt natural, although as she left him to finish her workout, a sense of guilt tinged her happiness.

  What was she doing, spending so much time with Ben? The fact that it felt natural didn’t mean it was a good idea. He’d already asked her on a date, so it wasn’t like she could lie to herself, pretending there was no attraction there.

  Especially not with the desires he sparked inside her – desires she’d planned to keep deeply buried for a long time. However long it took her to be able to look back on her last error in relationship judgement and not feel like someone was slipping a knife between her ribs, to be exact.

  She had to wait for someone to finish with a leg curl machine, which gave her plenty of time to question the intelligence of the connection she was encouraging with Ben.

  Why did the first friend she made in Pittsburgh have to be an incredibly attractive man? If she’d hit it off with any of the women at Hot Ink like she had with Ben, she wouldn’t have this problem.

  But who was she kidding? She didn’t think of him in a platonic sense. She couldn’t – the attraction was too strong.

  She moved on autopilot through the rest of her workout, then glimpsed Ben lifting weights on the second floor. He’d worked up a sweat, and his skin glistened, muscles shifting beneath. She had to force herself to tear her gaze away.

  Heading to the women’s locker room afterward, she took her time showering and getting dressed, then brushed her hair until it shone.

  She left it down. There was no reason to pull it back or braid it since she wouldn’t be working out or tattooing for the rest of the day. Thinking back to Ben’s comment about her hair the day before, she ran a hand through one side and watched it ripple in the mirror.

  It was easy to imagine his hands running through it instead, although she tried not to let her mind go there.

  By the time she finally emerged from the locker room, she caught him heading into the men’s.

  “I’ll be about ten minutes,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’ll wait for you.”

  After a few moments of standing by as sweaty men ducked into the locker room, nodding at her along the way, she gravitated toward the reception desk. There was a small bench near the entrance, and she took a seat, laying her gym bag at her feet.

  The thirty-something woman working the desk smiled at her and asked her how her workout had gone.

  Hannah told her that her legs felt like jelly, so she figured it’d gone pretty well.

  Shortly after the receptionist turned back to her computer, a man approached. He was about Ben’s height, but not quite as muscular. Somewhere in his twenties. She expected him to walk out the door, but he surprised her by settling down beside her on the tiny bench.

  They were practically rubbing elbows.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” He grinned.

  A vaguely uncomfortable feeling hit her as awkwardness descended on them. It was the polar opposite of the butterflies she felt when Ben looked at her like that, although this man was reasonably attractive.

  “All right,” she said. “And you?”

  “Fine, fine.” He smelled sweaty and wore athletic pants, along with a sleeveless t-shirt.

  Why didn’t people who chose to wait until they got home to shower go straight there?

  “I saw you working out,” he continued. “I just wanted to tell you how cool your tattoos are.”

  She peered down at her new coat, the thick sleeves of which completely covered her arms, hiding her full tattoo sleeves.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got some ink. Well, on my back. You can’t see it now, but…”

  Oh, God. He wasn’t going to whip his shirt off and show her, was he?

  She cringed inwardly. It wouldn’t be the first time. Not that she had a problem with the sight of tattoos or the human body in general, but there was something about impromptu strip shows from strangers
that made her want to run in the opposite direction.

  A lot of people seemed to take her tattoos as an invitation to show off their own, no matter where they were located. It was weird, even to her.

  “Nothing like yours, though,” he said, showing no signs of removing his clothing. “How long did it take you to finish those sleeves?”

  “I had each one done over the course of months.” Her memories of those months were fond ones; the artist who’d done her sleeves had been her greatest mentor, and she loved them. She felt especially lucky to have them, since the artist had retired a couple years ago.

  “Wow. I’ve been thinking of getting more. Maybe a sleeve.”

  “Mmmhmm.” It was amazing how many people said that. Most never went through with it. This guy probably considered the idea better conversation fodder than something to seriously pursue.

  “So… You new to the gym? I’ve never seen you here before. Would’ve remembered those tattoos.”

  “This is my first week.” She looked past the man and toward the locker rooms, hoping to see Ben.

  No luck. As she bit back a sigh, the receptionist caught her eye and shot her a wry smile, shrugging.

  Hannah maintained a neutral expression, drumming her fingertips on her knee, aware of a hollow feeling in her middle. At this point, she was so hungry she was fantasizing almost as much about dinner as about Ben.

  “I’ve been here for over a year,” he said, his pride unmistakable. “Let me know if you need someone to show you the ropes. I’d be glad.”

  “I’m good.” She glanced toward the locker rooms again. “Thank you anyway.”

  Miracle of miracles, Ben finally emerged from the locker room, his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair still damp from the shower. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, and she’d never been so glad to see him.

  “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said as he entered the reception area, flashing Hannah a heart-stopping smile.