Delicate Ink Read online

  “Why did Richard take the kids?” he whispered to his sister.

  Meghan narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. “Don’t, Austin. Not now.” He opened his mouth to speak, and she shook her head again. “Please.”

  He sighed then nodded. “For now, baby girl.” He gripped her hand, and she tangled her fingers with his.

  Dad came in, his body larger than life, but something was off in the way he carried himself. Something that Austin would have caught on to sooner if he hadn’t been focused on illicit texts, a honey-haired woman he shouldn’t want, and his siblings, who meant the world to him. Harry folded himself into his armchair that had been part of the house for as long as Austin could remember. Mom followed quickly, concern in her gaze, then sat in her own chair right beside her husband.

  “What is it, Mom?” Maya asked. “You’re scaring us.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded around the room, and Meghan’s pressure on Austin’s hand tightened.

  Marie gave them a sad smile. “I’m so happy to have my babies home.”

  Austin swallowed hard. “Tell us, Mom.”

  Harry cleared his throat then leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him, his forearms resting on his thighs. Both of his parents were forces of nature. Neither would let the other stand alone; they either took turns in the lead or led together. That’s what made their marriage as rock solid as it was. The fact that they both looked uneasy and couldn’t form words made Austin want to bolt. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what they had to say.

  Harry met each one of his children’s gazes, one by one. “Well, kids. I have cancer. Prostate cancer in fact.”

  Austin’s world broke in half, the silence in the room an overwhelming vacuum of confusion, pain, and loss.

  “What?” he breathed. Or he thought he had. No sound had come out, and from the lack of voices around him, his siblings were as shocked as he.

  It couldn’t be. This strong man, this man who had raised them with a strong back and open heart couldn’t have cancer. Cancer killed. He knew that. Cancer couldn’t take his dad. Not now. Not ever.

  “What’s the prognosis?” Decker asked, his voice devoid of emotion. Austin looked over as his friend leaned down and ran a hand over Miranda’s hair. His sister leaned into Decker’s hold, tears streaming down her face.

  In fact, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room other than his and Decker’s.

  He didn’t know why he wasn’t crying. It didn’t make sense. The words coming out of his father’s mouth about prognosis, treatment, and what it would mean to the family didn’t compute. He’d ask later in detail and find out how he could help, but right then, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

  His father, the center of the Montgomery family, had cancer.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Chapter Four

  “Thank you and enjoy your night out,” Sierra said with a smile. Her two middle-aged customers grinned and blushed at each other as they made their way out of Eden. Sierra held back a happy sigh at the sounds of laughter, teasing, and murmurs.

  Eden was officially open for business.

  It had been only two days, but those two days had been some of the best of her life. Sure, she wanted to scream, throw up, or shake uncontrollably whenever she thought of the monumental chance she was taking in opening a slightly above average boutique in the middle of downtown Denver. She’d read the statistics for opening a small business in the metro area and knew the risks and pitfalls. That didn’t mean she could just walk away. She hadn’t come from money, but she’d come from comfort. It wasn’t naive of her to think she could provide that for herself in the future as well.

  Eden sold clothes for the city girl in Denver. It wasn’t a New York boutique with the odd angles and daring choices that some could pull off, but not those here in the wild west. She grinned at that. Contrary to popular belief, the only horses in the city pulled carriages and there wasn’t a five-gallon hat to be seen. Okay, maybe on that last part she lied a bit. There were a few cowboys, but none of them had said darlin’ to her in the past twenty minutes. Most of them worked the land and didn’t come near her boutique.

  The clothes, lacy undergarments, and scents she sold were things she’d wear herself. Or things her two assistants, Jasinda and Becky, would wear, as they were a few years younger and had slightly different taste and body shapes. She did her best to sell clothing in a wide variety of sizes, colors, and styles. So far, from the steady stream of people who had entered her doors, she knew she’d struck a chord. If that chord continued to ring for longer than a few days, she’d happily do a jig right on the 16th Street Mall.

  Her phone chirped, and she bit her lip. The morning had passed too quickly, and now her scheduled afternoon off—one the girls made her take—was upon her. She’d worked that morning and would work late into the night to make it up. Maybe she’d cancel her appointment and work some more. She couldn’t leave Eden alone when it was in its infancy. It would be irresponsible.

  “Go, Sierra,” Becky said from beside her. “Jasinda and I can handle whatever comes our way. Plus, if we need you, you’ll be right across the street. You haven’t left the store but to sleep and hopefully eat for almost a week. You need to see sunlight for a moment and then do what you need to so you can feel like a human again.”

  Sierra opened her mouth to start her excuses, but Jasinda, with her big red hair and her smoky eyes, shook her head. “Don’t even try to say we can’t handle it, darling. Go get your tattoo, piercing, or whatever you’re planning since you won’t tell us what it is and let us handle the register for a few hours. We all know you’ll be back in the morning to lead the charge.”

  “I can’t leave Eden as soon as I opened it,” Sierra complained. “What was I thinking?”

  “You’re thinking that if you don’t leave this building right now, you’re going to tire yourself out to the point you won’t be any use to us.” Becky crossed her arms over her chest. “Get a coffee from Hailey since it’s after the lunch rush then go take your appointment.”

  “But what if—”

  “Go, woman,” Jasinda cut her off.

  She threw her hand up then picked up her purse. “Fine, but you need to come to me if there is anything wrong. You understand? Eden…Eden’s my baby.”

  Jasinda gave her a small smile then leaned into her to brush a kiss over her cheek. Becky did the same on Sierra’s other side, and Sierra relaxed.

  “Go,” Becky ordered. “We’ll care for your baby. It’s what you hired us to do after all.”

  With one last look at her happy customers and the store that was the result of her blood, sweat, and tears, she walked out into the sunlight and made her way across the street to Montgomery Ink. She didn’t stop for coffee at Hailey’s, as she was already running on enough nerves and any caffeine would make it worse.

  Sierra took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. She wasn’t on her way to the guillotine or about to walk the plank with a smarmy pirate at her back. It was only a consultation with an artist. Nothing too drastic. She wouldn’t even have to take her clothes off.

  Okay, so that sounded odd even to her, but she let it go. It had been six days since she last stepped into Montgomery Ink, and once again, she found herself on the precipice of something more—something that scared the crap out of her.

  Since she last saw Austin and the others, Eden had opened to the public, running her ragged. The man with blue eyes and a beard she wanted to feel on the intimate silk of her thighs filled her mind more often than she wanted him to, but she did her best to push that aside. Eden needed her full attention, and any life-altering decisions—whether about men or tattoos—had to be put on hold so she could live her dream.

  Eden had been up and running for two days—and would hopefully run for much, much longer—and Sierra had an appointment with an artist she hoped could help her deal with the part of herself she’d tried to hide for so long.

  When Callie put her name
in their electronic appointment book, Sierra hadn’t asked which artist she’d have. From what she’d heard about the shop, she trusted all those who worked there with her skin. Or at least she tried to. Hopefully, she would find out who her artist was today and she’d start the next step in her healing. Just the thought of showing them where she needed her ink made her shudder. She wasn’t quite ready for that, but she knew she would have to be soon.

  She wasn’t a coward, but dear God, she wanted to be. Just once.

  “Sierra! You made it.”

  Callie’s welcoming voice soothed Sierra’s nerves immediately. The other woman had such a young, vivacious energy about her, though when Sierra looked closer, she could see a bit of an old soul in those bright eyes.

  She’d learned the last time she was there that Callie was Austin’s apprentice, learning art and technique, and gaining experience from, as Callie put it, the best of the best. With the way Callie seemed to bounce from word to word, Sierra thought that Austin had the best of both worlds. He could stand in the back and act all broody and rude while Callie brought in all the clients. No, that wasn’t nice. She knew from her research that Austin was a very talented artist, sought after from all over the world if reviews could be trusted. His sister Maya was much of the same.

  Sierra licked her lips nervously then gave in to Callie’s exuberant hug.

  “Nice to see you, Callie,” she said, trying to keep it polite considering the war within her made her stomach want to heave.

  “It’s good to see you too. Your artist is almost ready for a consult, so go ahead and take a seat on one of the comfy leather couches. Can I get you a coffee or water? Maybe a juice?”

  Sierra tilted her head, amused. “I’m good, thanks. Are you the Montgomery Ink receptionist as well?”

  Callie blushed, shaking her head. “We keep running out of those. We hire college kids mostly who need to pay for their tuition at UCD or the other Auraria campuses right off Spear Boulevard, but they get flaky over time between deadlines, parties, and the fact that the campus just built a freaking dorm right off the highway.” Callie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we’re between receptionists right now so I’m doing my best. Hopefully, Austin and Maya will hire someone soon so they don’t have to deal with the Mac of Doom.”

  Sierra’s eyebrows rose. “Mac of Doom?”

  Callie gestured toward the computer on the corner desk, leaning over to whisper. “Maya bought that because she wanted everything on the desk or whatever instead of a whole tower, and now no one knows how to use it. If you ask me, you should say goodbye soon because, between Sloane and Austin, there might be an ‘accident’.”

  Sierra snorted then took a seat. “Poor guys.”

  “Hey, poor me. I’m the one who has to fix whatever they mess up. Now if you’re sure you don’t need anything, I’m going to go work on a sketch for tomorrow’s client. Your artist will be by in a bit.”

  It wasn’t lost on her that Callie still had not mentioned the artist’s name. Maybe it was an artist-temperament thing. Sierra’s gaze traveled over the large room where eight stations sat against walls filled with artwork—photos, paintings, sketches, and a few ceramics and metal sculptures. There were a couple of people Sierra didn’t immediately know, but she’d seen Sloane and Maya around enough to know them by their faces. Each of them was working intently on their client. Sloane had his head down over a middle-aged man’s thigh, working with a red color that mixed with his blood. The sight made Sierra a bit queasy, so she turned her attention to Maya. Austin’s sister flicked her tongue ring in and out of her mouth as she focused on the line work on her client’s foot.

  Just the thought of someone digging a needle into her foot made Sierra wince. No thank you, not for her first tattoo. First? Was she planning on getting a second or third? Maybe she should just focus on getting through this first one without passing out or weeping uncontrollably.

  “Callie?” she asked before the other woman headed off completely. “Who is my artist?”

  “That would be me.”

  Sierra’s heart sped up, and she clamped her thighs together at the deep rumble of Austin’s voice. Oh no. Austin couldn’t be her artist. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if this man had his hands on her. She didn’t him want to see exactly where she wanted her ink. That was too personal. Too personal for a man that invaded her space by just breathing. She also reminded herself she didn’t even like him. He was a rude, overbearing oaf. It didn’t matter that her body seemed to want him.

  Her mind did not.

  “Okay then, I’ll leave you both to it.” Callie ran away, and Sierra narrowed her eyes at the woman. Oh, Callie knew exactly what she was doing.

  Great.

  “I thought you told me to leave,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to whisper, but it was all she’d been able to force out.

  Austin nodded, his eyes full of pain. Pain she hadn’t seen before in those deep blue eyes. She would have remembered.

  “I apologize for the way I acted before. Shannon, the woman who was leaving as you came in, put my back up, and I acted harshly.”

  Surprised he admitted to his rudeness, she could only forgive him. After all, she wanted—no, needed—to know what had put that broken look on his face. She wasn’t vain enough to think it was about her and his need to apologize. No, this was about something far deeper.

  “I’m sorry for my words when I first walked in. I’ve heard great things about Montgomery Ink, and I want a tattoo, not to judge who gets one.” There. She’d said it.

  Austin nodded but didn’t smile, didn’t do much of anything. “Come on to my station in the back, and we can talk about what you’d like.” Again, his voice was devoid of emotion. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something there, something that made her yearn to reach out to him and make it better.

  She took a seat on the bench he offered her as he sat down on a stool, picking up a sketchpad and pencil. “Tell me what you’d like.”

  Sierra searched his face, unable to focus on any type of design. “What’s wrong, Austin? What’s put such sadness in your eyes?”

  She cursed herself for asking such a deeply personal question of a man she didn’t know, but there was something there, a connection she had no right feeling.

  Austin blinked then swallowed hard. Her gaze traced the long line of his throat and his beard. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You just look so sad, and I wanted to know if there was anything I can do. Silly, right? I don’t even know you.”

  Austin set down the sketchpad and pencil, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not in the right frame of mind to draw anyway. Or, rather, I’m in the perfect mindset if you think about it. I know you came here for a consult, and I’ll get to that. Soon. Okay.” He met her gaze, that agony a sharp slice across her heart. “My dad has cancer. He told us the day after you walked out of here, and I haven’t been able to deal with it. I don’t know if I can.”

  Sierra sucked in a breath and gripped his hand, the shock of the connection surprising her, but she pushed past it, thoughts of Austin’s family in the forefront of her mind.

  “I’m so sorry, Austin. Oh God, I had no idea it was something like that. I know my words are paltry, but I’ll be thinking of your father and the rest of you. I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Her eyes filled with tears for the man in front of her and the man who’d raised him, a man she’d never met but knew Austin cared for a great deal.

  Austin cupped her cheek, an action that startled them both. “Thank you, Sierra.” He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat. “He’ll be okay. He has to be. And if I only focus on just him and what’s going on, I won’t be able to function, so let’s talk about your ink.”

  Her cheek was still warm from his touch, and she wanted more. Wanted his hands on her, wanted his gaze on her as she undressed for him. She wanted to kneel at his feet as he brushed her hair back, letting her know e
verything was okay.

  She pulled back at that thought. That wasn’t her anymore. Those thoughts weren’t hers. They couldn’t be. She’d grown from the woman she’d been with Jason, and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, be that woman with Austin. He was the one who would lay ink on her skin, not lay claim to it.

  That was if she could find the courage to do so in the first place.

  “Sierra? Your ink? Callie said something about flowers, but that means so many things. I need to know more.”

  She sucked in a breath, her lower lip trembling. “I…I want daisies on my right side. I don’t know how many, or how large or even what color, but I need them to…cover up, or rather go around, something.”

  Austin furrowed his brow. “I’m covering up other ink?”

  She shook her head. “This is my first tattoo.”

  Austin gripped her hand softly, his touch soothing, calming, an anchor. “What am I covering up, Sierra?” His voice had lowered, as if he was talking to a frightened lamb on the edge of a precipice.

  Though that was an apt description at the moment, she didn’t want to be that person.

  Not anymore.

  “I have a couple scars.” Oh, what a lie, but she’d tell the whole of it soon. She’d need to. “I’m…I’m not ready to show them to you yet, so I know you can’t design anything.”

  Austin squeezed her hand, and she cursed herself.

  Jesus she was an idiot.

  “I’m wasting your time today, Austin and I’m sorry for it. I thought I’d take it one step at a time, but that was stupid. You’d need to see my side so you can design.”