Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (18 page)

Was
this
what she’d worn when she was crowned May queen a zillion years ago? Surely not. Wouldn’t people have laughed?

But everyone today seemed to embrace Mildred’s dress—and what’s more—love it. They cheered and clapped as the woman shuffled forward, waving an impatient hand. “Gather ’round!” she called out, and stomped up the steps of the gazebo, the crowd trailing behind.

Blair caught Ben’s eye, and he joined her at the back of the crowd, slipping his arm around her waist. She shivered at the heat of his hand sliding across her back and watched, mouth slightly open, as he squeezed the side of her waist.

“This okay?” he whispered.

No.
Yes. Her face felt so hot, and all she wanted to do was let herself sink into his side, press her breasts against his hard rib cage, and…she tilted her chin up to look at him. “It’s okay, but I need to be able to pay attention.” She pointed toward the gazebo, where Mildred held court.

Ben chuckled into her hair. “Am I distracting you?”

“You know you are,” she said in a breathy voice, even as she drifted closer, until her hip was leaning into his. “I’m the event organizer. I should be up there at the front.”

“Not unless you want to risk wearing that crown,” Ben commented.

“Good point.”

Mildred clapped her hands for quiet and took the crown from the bench. She held it up as if it were Frodo’s ring and Blair felt a giggle rise in her chest. The crowd went silent, except for the excited whispers of the girls ringing the steps. Mildred took a step forward, and her gaze swept over them. Suddenly, she flew down the steps and crammed the crown directly on top of Kaley’s head.

A gasp went up, quickly followed by a squeal from Kaley and a loud, “You’ve got to be
kidding
me!” from another girl, who whirled around, her long blond hair snapping across her shoulders.

“Cassidy!” Kaley said. She had somehow managed to change into her Miss Finger Lakes dress, if the strip of fabric that covered her from breast to crotch could be called a dress. Mildred stood next to her and Kaley smiled and posed provocatively for Earl, who snapped several photos.

Cassidy stomped down the sidewalk, barely pausing to give Blair a venom-filled glance as she passed. “Rigged. It was rigged all along,” she spat out.

“Ugh,” Blair said with a sigh. “Drama.”

“It really
does
look like I rigged the May queen winner. How did she know? And where the hell did Kaley change her clothes—in the bushes?”

“She wouldn’t do that, right?” Ben asked.

Blair hoped not, but Kaley wasn’t known for being predictable. She’d have to keep a closer eye on her after Lola moved out.

“That’s what I like about you.” Ben slid his hand from her waist and turned to face her.

“I’m dramatic?”

“No, the opposite.” He cupped the side of her face and leaned closer.

She stepped back. “So I’m boring?”

“No. I’m treading on thin ice, aren’t I?”

“Mmm.” With a quick glance around, she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Let’s agree that I’m not as boring as I used to be.”

She felt his arms wrap back around her waist. “I have no idea what you used to be, but I’m pretty sure it was just as fascinating.”

A loud groan sounded behind them, and Blair jerked her head to the side.

Oh, lovely. Starling. “I’m not in the mood for drama. See you in a bit?”

He nodded and with a barely detectable sigh, walked toward Starling.

Chuckling, Blair walked in the opposite direction, only glancing back over her shoulder a couple of times. Ben’s arms were folded over his chest as he listened to whatever Starling was saying. The woman flapped her skinny arms—a lot.

Blair realized that Starling probably had some type of picky issue with whatever was planned for Ink Fest, but today was not the day to deal with it.

She wasn’t going to let the woman ruin her moment. The May Day festival had been amazing so far, and she damn well planned to keep it that way. That’s not to say that it hadn’t been surprising, because it certainly had. Mildred and her outfit…the mauling of the May Day pole…Blair smiled. Celebration was undeniably odd, but there was a spirit here that Blair was beginning to love. Ben had that spirit, too—a sense of expectation. Good things right around the corner. Fun for fun’s sake.

A month ago, she would have found the idea irritating and distracting. All of the parties she’d planned in her old job hadn’t been infused with the spirit of anything, unless she counted mere satisfaction of getting her list checked off. There was more than that now. There was Celebration, and there was Ben.

She watched as he broke away from Starling and ambled toward her. As he got closer, she saw the grim look on his face. She didn’t want to talk about the festival. It was the one thing that could come between them quicker than a heartbeat.

Ben stopped in front of her. “Uh, Blair, could—”

“If it’s about Ink Fest, let’s not.” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off, but…”

“Yeah. It’s okay. It can wait.” He swallowed.

Blair glanced over her shoulder with a small smile and started walking. Ben followed, and her stomach flipped over when his hand caught hers.

Blair really looked at him then—his eyes, which suddenly appeared tired, and his jaw, which was tense.

“Ben. I’m sticking with you on Ink Fest, no matter how difficult Starling gets.”

Ben looked at the sky and groaned. “She’ll be a bitch.”

“So will I,” Blair responded.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What are you doing after?”

“Uh, planning Lola’s engagement party. It’s a week from today.”

He scratched his jaw. “Oh. Can I see you later?”

“Yes.” She gazed at him. He gazed back and twined a lock of her hair in his fingers.

“When I’m with you, nothing else seems to matter, Firefly.”

She nodded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Ben, and I don’t think I want to try.”

It was the truth.

Chapter Seventeen

Blair paced the small length of the workroom in the trailer and held a thin manila envelope to her chest. If she’d known
yesterday
what she knew now, she could have made a decision, made some calls…done
something
instead of panic. With a groan, she slid down onto a folding chair and threw the envelope onto the table. The bold return address label for Macy’s Parade and Entertainment Group stood out like a distress beacon on the top left corner.

At least that’s what it looked like to Blair, who was now officially freaked out—because that envelope was evidence that her back was against the wall. Macy’s needed a map of Celebration’s parade route for the judges. And the deadline was Monday.

Today was Friday, and all week she’d been floating on a cloud, most of her evenings spent with Ben…in his bed, where nothing else seemed to matter. He was right about that, but now? She didn’t regret her time with him, but she’d forgotten all kinds of things all week long. Like ordering table bunting for the craft fair. And picking up her mail from city hall.

Thank God she’d at least done that today, because if she didn’t submit the parade route in time, Celebration would be disqualified. Uploading the map wasn’t the issue, though. Ink Fest was. Because the second Blair sent the map, it would cement the route, and Ink Fest would have to vanish from the town commons.

And at that realization, goose bumps rose all over her bare arms. This would have been so easy a couple of months ago—the old Blair wouldn’t have even thought twice. She would have sent the map immediately.

But there was Ben.

She buried her face in her hands.

Oh God, what am I going to do?

Everything was becoming so complicated. She lifted her head, picked up the phone, and dialed city hall.

…

“I’m all set. You ready to open?”

Ben slouched in his office chair and looked up at Starling, who leaned against the doorway, her arms folded defensively. “I’m ready. Is your station the way you want it, Starling?”

She let out a hoarse laugh. “Well,
yeah
. I wouldn’t do work otherwise. Not even for you.” With a sweeping glance that didn’t quite include him, she turned on a wicked-looking pair of heels and disappeared back into the studio.

It was on the tip of his tongue to call bullshit on her. Not for the diva attitude she’d pulled the last few days while he’d gotten the studio ready for her guest spot, but for the way she almost seemed to force her superiority. And he didn’t want to tattoo next to her for hours each day with her snapping at people like a piranha. He needed to be chill to do good work.

“Starling,” he called and pushed himself out of his chair.

“What?” she barked.

He walked into the main room of the studio and hopped up on the stool by the counter. “We need to talk.”

“Really? Talking’s so overrated.” She looked up from where she was examining a box of surgical gloves by her station. “These aren’t my usual brand.”

“Bullshit. They’re the ones you brought with you.” He gave her a fake grin. “I’ll make the conversation brief, though. Everyone is aware that you’re a tattoo goddess—including me. I don’t need to be reminded every second of the day.”

She didn’t respond.

“And more than that,” he continued, “you need to lay off the festival. As long as you’re the star attraction, I don’t see why you should care what else goes on, which leads me to believe that something else is going on with
you
. Something personal.”

He had no clue if that was true, but to his surprise, all the color drained out of her thin cheeks and she sank down onto her tattoo chair.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “Ridiculous.”

“If it’s so ridiculous, then you can stop acting so defensive.”

She laughed. “I’m defensive toward everybody. You’re not special, sweetie.”

“If I’m nothing special, then why are you guesting for me? You could go anywhere and make a hell of a lot more money.” He folded his arms and stared at her.

She didn’t respond for a moment. “We all have reasons for what we do, Ben. We all have secrets. But I’m not telling you mine, and I don’t expect you to tell me yours. Even though I can guess at some of them. Okay?”

Secrets? He didn’t have any secrets. Not many, anyway. “What do you think you know about me?”

She grinned then and crossed her legs. “I know who your family is, and I think that you opened this studio with trust-fund money.”

Underneath his arms, his fists clenched instinctively. But he wasn’t going to play the same game she was playing. “And if I did?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” She shrugged. “But it doesn’t make you a starving artist, does it?”

“Neither are you,” he pointed out. “Far from it.”

“At least I’m legit. I earned it the hard way.”

Yeah, she had. It was written all over her face in her defensive, tired eyes and sagging skin. There had to be a lot of secrets she wasn’t telling, but the thought of dragging them out of her made him want to turn right around and walk away. He didn’t care enough to want to know, but he’d be damned if she thought of him as a fraud. So he started talking.

“My parents cut me off when I was eighteen. Right before they did, I withdrew what my grandfather left to me from my trust account—I didn’t take a penny from my parents. I saved that money for ten years because I knew I was going to do something special with it. I put myself through an art program, working at night. The whole time I was sleeping on people’s couches, eating peanut-butter sandwiches, forgoing health insurance, and walking when my shitty car finally died, I didn’t touch that money.

“When I realized I wanted to be a tattoo artist, I learned the business, apprenticed for Grizz. Did every crap job he asked me to do. I developed my talent into skill. I waited. And when the opportunity arose, I set up this place. Is that legit enough for you?”

She blinked a couple of times. “Yeah. Thanks for sharing. But don’t think I’m going to do the same. I’m doing you a favor by being here.”

His heart hammering, he stood up and gripped the edge of the countertop. “So you remind me constantly. But I think we’re doing each
other
a favor, Starling, since for whatever reason, you’ve decided to park yourself in Celebration. I don’t need to know your past or your secrets. I need you to do a great job and not scare the shit out of my clients.”

“I never do anything less than a great job. Should it matter that I’m a complete bitch?” Her voice caught. “I know I am. I have to live with me.” With a sarcastic laugh, she wiped a finger under one eye. “And lucky you. You have to live with me, too. At least for the next week. Then I’m leaving—and no, I’m not telling you where I’m going, so don’t ask. I’ll be back the week after that.”

Ben felt a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “At least you’re honest. So can we work together without danger of you scratching my eyes out?”

“Sweetie, your eyes are too pretty to scratch out.” Starling swung her back onto the chair and laid down. “Now go back in your office and do shop-owner stuff. I need to rest before the clients come barging through the door.”

Ben was more than happy to comply.

…

Blair forced her shoulders to relax and tapped on the frosted glass of Ivy’s office door. She waited. And the longer she waited, the drier her mouth became. Finally, there was a loud sigh from within the office and the door opened. Ivy stood on the other side, rolling her eyes.

“Hey Blair. My Monday has sucked so far. How about you?”

Blair suppressed a groan. “It’s been okay.” She took a deep breath. Better to get it over with. “But I’m afraid I’m about to make yours even suckier.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Ivy sat down on a storage box in the living room and twisted a silver bracelet on her wrist. She sighed. “Fine. Tell me.”

“It’s about the parade contest. And Ink Fest.” Blair took a deep breath. “So I need to turn in the map of the parade route today, or Celebration will be disqualified. The problem is, with Ink Fest on the town commons, there will be too many people downtown and the police probably won’t allow it. The emergency routes have to be clear.”

“Blair, we’ve known since the town council approved both events that there would have to be logistics solved. I thought you said you could handle it.” Ivy was silent for a few seconds, and Blair waited for her to say something else. She didn’t. Instead, she walked around her desk, picked up the receiver of her clunky, old phone and stabbed at the keypad. After a moment she lifted her head and gave Blair a pained smile.

Great.

Ivy cleared her throat. “Joe? Could you come up here a minute? Thanks.”

After replacing the receiver, she gestured toward the sofa and then sat down in her desk chair with a sigh.

“Joe? The…handyman?” Blair asked in a neutral tone.

“Oh, that’s just part-time.” Ivy flapped a hand. “He also drives the town’s ambulance, so he’ll know about emergency routes.”

Blair thought for a moment about an ambulance with the word “Celebration” painted on the side of it and an absurd giggle threatened to burst out of her mouth. She perched on the edge of the sofa.

“Maybe we should cut the parade down.” Blair held her breath.

“You can’t. Not after all the planning and the money you’ve spent ordering supplies. The town council would have your ass on a platter.” Ivy shook her head. “In retrospect, maybe you shouldn’t have been so ambitious.”

Ivy was right, but getting scolded by a boss whom she actually liked and respected? It made Blair’s stomach jump, and not in a good way.

“I’m sorry,” Blair began. “I dropped the ball and—”

A knock sounded on the door and a second later it was thrown open. Joe sauntered in, hitching his work pants as he lumbered forward.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Joe, what do you know about the emergency routes around the commons?” Ivy asked.

He scratched his chin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if the sidewalks were covered with people watching a parade, and the commons were covered with people attending a tattoo festival…would that be a problem?”

“Hmm.” Joe twisted his weathered lips to the side and frowned. “Probably not a good idea. How many people do ya think would be fainting or have heart attacks or what not?”

Ivy stared at him. “None, I would hope.”

“Good, good.” Joe nodded and rocked back on his heels. “So…”

His radio squawked, and he snatched from his belt with unexpected deftness. “Joe here.”

“Joe, the demon in the second floor john is at it again,” came a crackling voice.

He frowned. “Damn it! That toilet
must
be cursed. I fixed it twice last week.” He raised his eyebrows in Ivy’s direction. “Gotta go.”

She sighed and flapped her hand again, giving him permission to leave.

When he’d left, Ivy turned back to Blair. “I don’t feel comfortable with letting things sort themselves out. It seems to me that you’ve been avoiding the problem, and if you don’t do something, it’ll only get worse. You need to talk to Ben and come to a decision about venues.”

“What am I going to tell him?”

“You two can’t work it out?” Ivy leveled a look at Blair. “I thought that you and Ben…” She shook her head. “None of my business.”

“We are,” Blair blurted out. “I mean, he and I are…”

Ivy smiled. “None of my business, but okay. Here’s what’s going to happen—and I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Blair’s heart sank. “What is it?”

“I’m going to revoke his permit to use the commons. There’s too much riding on the parade contest—too much community involvement, too much money, too much expectation.” She sighed. “But since this is your problem, not mine, you’re going to have to be the one to tell him.”

Blair’s heart sank further. “Oh, God.”

Ivy chuckled. “Don’t worry, I have an idea.” She stood and walked to the door. “I’m pretty sure that Marcus would lease Sunnyside to Ben for Ink Fest. It has large meeting rooms, plenty of parking, and already has stringent health inspections. Problem solved, right?”

Blair blinked. “I…it would seem so. But a tattoo festival at a senior center?”

Telling Ben his permit for the commons was going to be revoked because of her own selfishness would make her heart shrivel with shame. And then adding to the misery—informing him that his festival had to move to the
old folks’ home
? He might be okay with it, but Starling would go ballistic. Oh, God. Blair didn’t disappoint people. And he was the last person on earth she wanted to hurt.

Ivy shook her head. “I don’t think you have another choice, Blair. Neither does Ben at this point.”

Blair rose from the sofa. “I’m sorry everything got so tangled up.”

“It’s okay—or it will be once you untangle it. We all get a little crazy when we’re in love.” Ivy chuckled.

In love?

Blair blinked.
Was
she? Her heart quickened as the familiar, yearning pull spread through her—the feeling she had every time she thought of Ben. And then the reality of it all hit her in a tidal wave that sent her swaying against the arm of the shabby sofa.

She didn’t want to live without him, plain and simple. Did she
love
him?

Even if she did, she couldn’t keep him—not if she stayed on the same course. Because she was pretty damn sure that she would win the contest. She’d seen a few small town parades before and they had
nothing
on what she’d planned. They’d been hokey. Folksy. With people pulling candy out of a toilet paper box. She sighed.

If only she could go back to that—if only she hadn’t planned some huge extravaganza. Then she wouldn’t win. She wouldn’t leave to take the job. She could stay here in Celebration with Ben, nobody would be the wiser, and…

If only…

A bolt of inspiration struck and she turned to look at Ivy. “Thanks for the suggestion. Gotta run,” she called as she bolted out the door.