The name came from my specialty. Hiding. Covering up and redoing older tattoos or reworking imperfections into a new type of art. A passion that developed quickly when I apprenticed in the first town I was dropped into for witness protection. I watched, drew, and studied non-stop. I dove into a new obsession, so I didn’t have to think or reflect on anything else.
Tattooing and all the components it takes to be at the top of your game in this business, developing my skill set, it’s what brought me to a better place emotionally. The beauty is that I can make a living from it too. A therapy and passion turned into a business is something I never would have imagined for myself. A silver lining. Nah, better. Platinum lining.
The colors and flowers that cascade down from my shoulders to my wrists cover the olive branches that had been started back when I was in New York. Unless you look closely, you would never know something else was there before. Something old turned into something brighter and new.
I wouldn’t have hooked up with Mac. Maybe flirted a little more heavily, but I am keeping my meaningless sexual encounters to people that have zero connection to this town. I’m not interested in making anything else more complicated. But I am going to do what I can to get one man in particular out of my system. The opportunities are endless when living in a tourist town. A filthy little perk.
I change into my bathing suit and throw a loose, short black skirt and my favorite neon cropped tank over it. I’ve wanted to dip into the hot springs since the weather warmed up, but I haven’t had a chance. Between the shop finally becoming mine, planning out renovations, and joining Strutt’s town business division, there hasn’t been a moment to enjoy the weather. I plan to change that tonight.
An hour later, and I’m in pure, steamy heaven.
Relaxed and feeling like any stress that's been creeping in lately is finally draining out of my body. I feel lighter, and for a few quiet moments, I stay present and away from the heaviness of my past. I don’t like to celebrate anything from my old life. It makes me feel like I’ll just fall into a depression if I thought too hard for too long, but today is different. Today would have been my pops’ birthday.
The handsome lug would have been seventy, and I can only imagine how he would have celebrated. Likely, it’d be a big stogie. Some watered-down Campari with a splash of gin and maybe a trip to Coney Island, so he could snag a few too many funnel cakes.
My pops, no matter how hard it's been not to have him, I’m thankful I had the time with him that I did. Andthatis worth celebrating.
“What are you drinking, troublemaker?”
I tilt my head up to look at who is audacious enough to bother me right now. And, sure as shit, Law Riggs pushes his way into my private hot spring. He gives me his megawatt smile, and it’s impossible not to smile back. Even if I didn’t want company. He’s the most charming person in this town. Always ready with a teasing compliment and a bright, genuine smile.
“Just enjoying some quiet time. Until you showed up.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back, leaning against the side of the spring. It’s warm and apparently incredible for skin, but I love it most because it’s something I would have never thought I’d be able to do. “All the hot girls are a few springs over. I assume you’re out here to find someone to fuck around with later?”
“What if I already found someone I wanted to fuck around with later?” he says, immediately responding to my question.
That gets my attention. We joke around. Flirt, even. Flirting is just how I am with people. But Law hasn’t ever been this bold. We’ve teased each other a bit, but this Riggs brother isn’t the one that hits my places just right. I look at Law like a friend. I can appreciate his good looks, but he’s not it. Not enough bulk, too happy, too little of the resting dick face I’ve come to search for.
“Then I’d ask you, where’d she go?” I smile and look over at him. Challenging him.
“I’m just fucking with you, G. I mean, that bikini is insane. I’d have to be blind not to appreciate it, and everything it’s barely covering up, but you’re my pseudo-sister now. And I don’t think Everly would approve of us messing around. Though, I wouldn’t mind you teaching me a thing or two…” He quirks his eyebrow. Making it a dare.
“Law, baby, there’s so much I can teach you.” He slides over to where I’m sitting and pulls the drink from my hand, taking a sip.
“Negroni?” he asks.
I lift my shoulder to shrug. “Campari makes me sentimental.”
“Of all the things I know about you, G, which isn’t much, being sentimental is not one I would have guessed.”
I scoff exaggeratedly. And we both burst out laughing. Mine more of a giggle, and if his voice wasn’t so deep, he’d be giggling too. A few of his lighter curls flop down over his forehead, and he looks, even more so, the part of the younger man. He’ll be a damn fine man in a handful of years, but he still seems so much like a kid. It’s the lightness about him. It makes being around him easy. The Riggs family does that, makes things effortless and content. It makes me want to be around them. The love they have for each other, it’s always so obvious. I envy it and try to absorb what I can from it whenever I’m with them.
A few more drinks and all the pruned fingers later, Law and I are taking bets on which girls are going home with which guys in the springs on the other side of us.
“What are the chances you can flirt it up with that tall young Clooney over there so I can swoop in and take that redhead off his hands?” He nudges me.
“I’d say very good.” I laugh into my drink. We both get up and grab our bags. They clink as we move, his filled with Coronas and mine with my gin and Campari. I do a double take at the small spring just behind us, and my breath catches for a minute. It always does when I seehim. Especially now, when I don’t expect it. I haven’t seen him since he showed me his tattoo, then touched my lips like he was trying to memorize them without giving in to what he wanted.
Henry sits tall but relaxed, his arms draped along the mud wall of the spring as if he’s emerged from the earth like some sort of god. And he looks like one. The broad chest and thick arms swelled and dipped with muscle from his shoulders to forearms. Neck to pecs. A tattoo, that has somewhat knocked me sideways, peeks out just enough so that I can’t help but stare. Of all the things I want to pay attention to, it’s the ink that makes my stomach swoop. The idea of why he would do that makes me feel lightheaded, nervous.
The lights that were put up around the springs for nighttime are just bright enough to see around the area, but still dim enough that I can’t read his face. I can tell his attention is on us, though. Watching me as we move. Henry isn’t even close, and he’s flooded my senses. The air is cool tonight, but my body is heated. Partly from the hot spring and negronis, and the other from that man’s attention.
“Henry, we’re moving down a bit. Want to join?” Law yells out.
He stands from the water as a response. And it's as if the world slows down. A slow-motion reel of a hard-worked body erecting from the murky, healing waters. I’m assaulted with so much tanned skin packed with muscle, that all the knowledge stored in my overactive brain recedes like the tide. I’m borderline stupid right now. My mouth hangs slightly open as he saunters my way. And that’s what he does, he saunters. His board shorts suctioned to his massive, toned thighs, and I catch a thick outline of his dick right through his pants. I’m equal parts annoyed and relieved because, at some point, I want a glimpse of that dick. It’s on my very real bucket list, written in a permanent marker.
Maybe that’s the solution. That’s how I can get him out of my system. Kill the sexual tension and just say fuck it. Or, fuck me. Then move on. Keep it surface level. My mind just runs over and over again, as if it were on a reel of the way water cascades down his abs and disappears either into those board shorts or cuts right and left into the divots of his V-line. Like well flagged lanes directing towards his party-time highway.
“Eyes up here, G.” I flick my eyes up fast to his face. I’m caught, but really, who wouldn’t be looking? It’s where my eyes go first. Note to men of the universe, if you’re wearing gym shorts, sweatpants, or a wet swimsuit, most people who are sexually attracted to your type, will look. And anyone who doesn’t, well, their loss. I’ll study on their behalf.