Dare You Forever (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2.5) (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Josh

“They’re
where
?” Liam’s voice raises an octave and he looks at me like I’m outta my fucking mind.

“Chippendale’s—get over it,” I tell him, rearranging the sequence of the cards in my hand.

“That’s the worst mother-fucking double standard I’ve ever heard!” Will blusters.

Which only makes me laugh more at his severe frustration with me.

Sam leans in over his cards to ask Will, “Remember the Anderson twins?”

Will’s frustration melts into a mischievous grin.

“I don’t get it,” Ryder confesses, throwing his cards facedown on the table. “And I fold.”

“Yeah, guess I’m dense too,” Jake says, leaning back in his chair “Enlighten us.”

Most of my brothers are sitting in the back of Liam’s shop at the House of Ink and Steel. It’s our man cave, our place to come unwind without women. Sophie and Quinn have been the only exceptions so far.

It’s going on ten o’clock and we’re gathered around the poker table. Will and Sam are sons-of-bitches when it comes to cards; they have no tell. Liam couldn’t care less about the game. Reese and Connor are in their own conversation about this month’s
Playboy
playmate. Caleb and Nate are late and so is Chase, who was down at White Earth Reservation, finishing up some college homework before the wedding weekend, and Talon is in the front of the shop, giving a tat to a last-minute customer. We’re just fucking around before they head out to the Queen of Hearts
strip club
that I’m still not going to.

“Because even though I am a jealous bastard,” I explain, “I’m not a jealous
bastard
.”

“Oh yeah, bro. That clears it right up.” Jake throws down a pair of twos.

“Her ex was abusive, possessive and controlling. She needs to know that I’ll never be like that.”

“So you sent her to an all-male strip club with a bunch of dollar bills to prove to her that you’re not a scumbag?” Ryder asks, shaking his head like it’s a pity I’m so stupid.

“Exactly.”

“And if she gets drunk and takes one home?” Will counters, trying to find a flaw in my thinking.

“Who’s getting drunk and who’s taking who home?” Caleb saunters in with Nate behind him.

“Sophie and a Chippendale stripper.” Connor glances momentarily away from the skin mag to show he’s present. “Genius here sent her to a show.”

“If she falls for some other guy … yeah I’d be fucking devastated, but I wouldn’t fucking destroy her. I want her to be happy.”

“Man, you are so fucked.” Ryder laughs at me.

“Hey,” I qualify, “I might kill
him
but I’d fucking never hurt
her.
”

“I get it,” Nate puts in. “It’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” I second guess that shit. “Maybe Ryder is right and I just fucked myself.”

Suddenly cards aren’t enough to hold my attention so I get up and storm over to the dartboard.

“So, let me get this straight, you set up this elaborate golden envelope system with instructions and gifts like a scavenger hunt to tell her you love her?” Will watches me as he puts together what I told him an hour ago.

I chuck a dart and it hits the wall.
Fuck!
“Yeah, exactly.”

“It’s classy,” he decides. I’m surprised he thinks so and even more surprised he admitted it. I swear sometimes Will just likes to argue for the sake of fucking arguing.

“It is, so let it play out and don’t mourn over it like an idiot,” Jake challenges. “Now, are we playing cards or are we going to continue on with the Joy Luck Club?”

“Too bad he didn’t send the girls to a regular fucking club; we could’ve been called in for protection when the inevitable assholes messed with them.” Ryder’s always thinking of a fight.

“Was she getting cold feet?” Caleb inquires without even a hint of a smile as he grabs himself a beer.

“She’s skittish as a newborn foal.” I think that sums it up. “I’m going for the hard stuff if anyone wants a drink.”

Leaving the darts, I go behind the bar and pull out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. When I set enough glasses for everyone on the counter I notice Nate studying Caleb closely with a look of worried concern.

“You know something about cold feet?” I scoop ice into each glass. The sound is comforting.

“I
know
my baby brothers Jake and Nate are married and Sam might as well be,” Caleb snips and sits down hard as he chugs his beer gone.

“And Piper …” I try.

He wipes his mouth with his hand. “And Piper … is on the verge of breaking up with me. She thinks her illness defines our relationship and that she can’t give me everything I need or deserve.” Caleb is the quietest guy I know, so I’m shocked he’s giving away so much information. It must be eating him alive.

“I’ve proposed to her five times and the answer is always the same: she loves me too much to allow me to tether myself to a woman who could be sick the rest of her life. She doesn’t or won’t understand that it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want anybody else.”

I give him the drink I poured for myself.

“That’s why she didn’t come with us,” Nate says like he finally gets the answer to an unspoken question.

A chorus of “That sucks,” “So rough man,” and “Sorry, bro” passes around the table.

“But she hasn’t broken up with you yet,” Will, of all people, says.

“Yeah, and …?” barks Caleb.

Will shrugs a shoulder. “Sounds like she really doesn’t want to.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Caleb bursts up from his seat. “Last month she only let me see her a handful of times and three of those were doctor visits. Her dad is giving me the run around on the phone now too and telling me she can’t talk.”

He swallows down the drink in three quick gulps.

At that, I walk over and pull him into a bear hug. “I love you, brother, and I’m here for you.” I keep my voice low. “Anything I can do, let me know.”

He steps back and nods. “Man, I’m fucking sorry. This is supposed to be a party.”

“This isn’t the party,” I remind him. “You’re fine.”

“How the hell did we get on this subject again?” Caleb tries to conjure the memory of the earlier conversation up.

“Cold feet.” I don’t bother with making a pretty drink. Instead I just swig from the bottle, wishing I knew what Sophie was thinking right now.

Chapter Eight

Sophie

I realize this is the grand finale as the house lights dim a little extra and the music changes to an excitement-building instrumental.

I don’t think I can handle another stripper! I’ve been laughing, simultaneously shielding my eyes and gawking, and thoroughly embarrassed for the past two hours! My face hurts because I’ve been smiling so long!

Honestly, though, when your fiancé is more amazingly buff than any one of these guys even wishes he was and all you can think about is him naked on top of you, pinning you down against the kitchen countertop as he pounds his amazingly long, thick …   I swig back the last sip of my margarita.

That’s when Tarzan—clad only in a leopard print loin cloth—comes out, swinging on a “vine” from the rafters!

“I gotta go to the bathroom!” I cry and bounce from my seat.

“Oh no you don’t!” Britt and Quinn each grab one of my arms and pull me back into my chair.

This is killer!
Of course, the guy is going to be looking for his Jane, and of course, my two best friends have not embarrassed me enough in one night and stand, pointing down at me.

And of course, with all the women in the room screaming or pointing at their friends, I look the most mortified. So of
course
—he chooses me.

“OH MY GOD!!” I scream.

Tarzan is OVER ME, SWINGING HIS “TRUNK” WHILE GIVING ME A LAP DANCE!!!

I’m sure I could explode from sheer humiliation, but just before I do, he moves on to Quinn.

Ah, sweet revenge!!

Britt is laughing so hard at Quinn’s mortification she’s crying and folds a dollar bill into Tarzan’s cloth!

Quinn slaps Britt’s arm, but she couldn’t care less, because it’s now her turn for a lap dance.

What a night!

It’s two a.m. when the three of us finally get to our hotel room and I fall into bed.

“I was there and I
still
can’t believe Josh paid for us to do that!” Britt crows. “Oh my God, that was the most fun I’ve had in …
forever
!”

“Who would’ve thought we’d check into the hotel early and be presented with Chippendale’s tickets by the clerk?” exclaims Quinn as she digs her makeup remover from her overnight bag.

“In a golden envelope.” I smile, more in love with Josh than ever.

It made absolutely no freaking logical sense—he and Liam had completely foregone the sex-style party for themselves but sent us to one??

“Holy fuck, that one guy looked just like Channing Tatum! And oooh, how he moved his package!!” No way Brittani is getting to sleep tonight. “And when he pulled you up on stage …”

I totally tried to resist him, but the more I did, the harder he pulled. “Josh would’ve massacred him.”

“That’s right!” Quinn says. “
Him
.”

“Not me.” I feel so content at this moment—so absolutely strong and sexy and empowered.

Jim often hit me when he got it in his head that I
could’ve been
looking at another guy. He hated when I wore anything provocative or sexy or showed any skin, with or without him. I shudder when I recall him forcing me to breastfeed Charlie as a newborn under a thick blanket, in case someone could see through the windows.

“When I was married to Jim and I was at work,”—I swallow hard at the memory—“he’d call me all day long to check up on me and make sure I was really there. When I couldn’t answer because I was with a customer, he’d accuse me of flirting and cheating on him, and the death threats would start. He wouldn’t let me wear shorts in the summer. And cute dresses? Forget it.”

Neither of them speaks. They’re good listeners and great friends.

“And here’s Josh, bending over backwards to prove he’s a good man.” I feel tears well up and spill over for the umpteenth time today. “Do you know this afternoon we almost made love and
he
stopped it?!”

Both Quinn and Britt laugh. “WHAT?! No way—why?”

“Old fashioned gentleman-ness,” I muse, thinking about how he’s now saving us for the wedding night.

Quinn goes quiet then asks, concerned, “Were you really considering leaving him?”

“No, but I have considered not going all the way through with marrying him. Still being ‘unmarried,’ I know I can still play by my own rules. There’s safety in that.”

“Maybe the two of you could make up your own rules … together?” Quinn suggests then says softly, “He’ll never hurt you.”

I tuck that away in my heart as I fall asleep.

***

For the first time in weeks I wake up refreshed and in an undeniably good mood. Quinn and Britt are still sleeping when I go downstairs to hunt for a newspaper and a cup of fresh coffee.

What I find instead is Liam Knight, sitting at a table with two coffees, and he’s smiling at me like the Cheshire Cat.

He stands. “Josh said you woke up at this time like clockwork.”

“Guess he knows me pretty well.”

He looks impressed. “Guess he does.”

“So what are you doing here?” I sit across from him and take up one of the coffees.

“You’re my next appointment,” he tells me.

Surprised, I ask, “How so?”

Liam shrugs. “The man said he needed me to give you this.” He hands me a golden envelope.

I can’t help but smile as I take it from him. “I thought yesterday was it.”

“Looks like Josh has other plans. Open it up,” he encourages.

I do.

I read it.

“No. No way, not a chance.” This is definitely where the game ends!

He immediately begins to laugh. “What does it say?”

“It says he wants me to go with you to the House of Ink and Steel so you can tattoo me! ME!”

“Scared of needles?” he eggs me on.

“Yes!”

“Do you mind?” Liam holds his hand out for the letter.

“Not at all. ’Cause I’m not going.” I pass it to him.

Liam reads Josh’s words out loud.

This is a tough one, but being the scrapper you are, you’ll come through just fine.

Do you trust me? Go with Liam to the tattoo shop. I left the design I think you’ll like best at his station with another envelope. Now, before you go and freak out, know I love you and give it a chance.

“No. Me … a tattoo? I don’t think so.” I sip at my coffee.
Is Josh serious??

He asks brightly, “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

I scowl and think. “Maybe …” I say without looking at him.

“So bring your coffee and we’ll open the other letter.” He’s freaking smiling like this is fun.

I’m so nervous I could puke!

Liam’s hand swoops in and snags my coffee.

“Hey!” I protest.

“Come on …” He dangles it away from me like a carrot to a bunny.

Or a jackass.

Does he really expect me to get a tattoo?

***

Liam unlocks the door to the shop. “I don’t even open for another two hours.”

“Thanks for making me a preferred client … I think?”

“Ha. Ha.”

We make a beeline to his workstation, and sure enough, on the chair is a gold envelope, but I feel a twinge of jealousy and disappointment when the name on the front is Liam’s.

He appears puzzled as he opens it, then a knowing look dawns on his face and he laughs.

“Oh God,” I whine. “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”

“Okay. There is another letter in the envelope for you, but I can only give it to you if you go through with the dare.”

“It’s a dare, is it?” I wage back and remember the first note that read,
Dare you … forever.

“What do I have to do?” I ask determinedly. I want that letter.

“You really are a scrapper.”

“Liam, just tell me before I lose my nerve!”

“All you have to do is sit in the chair,” he says with a slight tilt of his head.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously and sit in his artist’s chair.

“Not that one … that one.” Liam’s eyes go to the client’s chair.

“Fine.” I slide over and get comfortable on the recliner.

“Good thing you’re wearing shorts,” he quips, off the cuff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just relax and sit still please,” he instructs, all businesslike.

I open my mouth and hitch in a breath to complain about the arrangement, but he cuts me off before I can. “And no talking.”

I let the air come out of my nose. If I were a dragon, it would’ve been fire.

He walks over to his light table and works a pen to paper. A second later he tells me, “I need you to close your eyes.”

“I can’t see it?” I’m incredulous.

“It’s at this moment I’m supposed to ask if you trust Josh.”

He’s watching me seriously.

“NO! YES! OH MY GOD, I DON’T KNOW!”

“He said you have a minute to decide.” He looks at his watch, and I feel the pressure mounting already. One minute?! Really?

“Or what?” I press challengingly.

“You don’t get the next envelope,” Liam informs me matter-of-factly.

“You’re really going to time me!? I croak, incredulous.

“Thirty seconds.”

“I have a
minute
to decide if I want to be forever inked?? And with what design??”

Liam interrupts. “Fifteen seconds.”

“Jesus, you’re freaking serious!” I shout.

“Ten.”

“Liam!”

“Five, four …”

“HE’S NOT EVEN HERE TO KNOW!!”

“Three …”

“DO IT!! Just, do it.” A smile lights his face, and I realize he’s probably enjoying this as much as Josh.

I rest with my back against the chair and I squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s immediately torture. First Liam uses a warm cloth to scrub my right leg a couple inches away from my ankle as he cleanses my skin.

After that, I feel him blot me with a dry cloth, then his hands, then maybe paper. But I’m sure at any moment I’m going to feel the fucking needle so I’m about to lose my mind!!

A soft blanket covers my lap and legs and Liam states, “You can open your eyes.”

“It’s done?” I’m shocked.

“No, it’s not even close to done.” He laughs. “But now is when I’m supposed to give you this.” He hands me the folded letter.

Thankful I didn’t actually have to go through with getting the tattoo, I dive into Josh’s words.

Scrapper,

I’m more than impressed! Baby, you amaze me!! If you got this letter, you actually let Liam get the preliminary design on your ankle. I love that you trusted me this far.

Now, the rest is up to you—just like everything else in our lives together. If you want the tattoo I chose for you, take a deep breath and let Liam do what he does best.

If you don’t want to go through with it—you don’t have to. You can just get up and walk away. It’s your body, baby.

But just for fun, look at the design to see what you think before you wash it off, and then Liam will bring you back to the hotel.

And, Soph, you’ve totally earned the next envelope.

I release the breath I’m holding in relief.

All decisions we’ll make together. No rogue players here—we’re a team. What you want or don’t want; what you need or don’t need; what you like or don’t like—this is your life, Sophie, and I won’t control it—I simply want to be a part of it. And yeah, I know we’re going to fight and have conflict, who the hell doesn’t? But know you always have the winning vote. I love you.

“Liam? Will it wreck my wedding night or honeymoon if I actually were to go through with the tattoo?” He’s leaning over his art table and his back is to me so I can’t read his expression.

“You wouldn’t be able to swim or submerge it in a hot tub, but other than that, I’d say you were safe.” Liam still doesn’t turn.

“Okay, do it! And hurry before I change my mind!” I squeal.

He glides back to me on his chair, a kind expression painting his face. “I thought you’d say that. So I got the inks ready.”

“You thought I’d do it?”
Is he for real?
I’ve totally been acting like a toddler in a tantrum.

“Of course. You’re a fighter like the rest of us. I know the type.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“I got your back,” he says.