Summer Love_ A Steamy Small Town Romance Anthology - Piper Rayne Page 0,5

on the fact that my breathing has become stoic.

“All right. Head over to the mirror and see if you like where it’s positioned.” He dodges all eye contact when he speaks, instead he fiddles around with something at his station. I pull my shirt down and remove the towel at the same time then walk over to the mirror, cupping my breast when I pull up my shirt to check it out.

“Looks good,” I say.

He nods, turns away from me and my shoulders sag at how obvious it is that he can’t stand to be around me. I have to make this right, make him understand, so he doesn’t hate me anymore. Even if we can no longer be lovers, maybe we can be friends.

“Hop up.” He pats the table and I do as he says. He goes to hand me the towel again when I lay down and I shake my head. “Take the towel,” he says in a gruff voice.

“I know it’s going to get in your way. It’s fine.” I pull my shirt up and cup my right breast with my left hand in one fell swoop.

He sighs, shakes his head, and turns to reach for his tattoo needle. When he looks back around, he meets my gaze. “I’m sorry about your mom. Never got to tell you that when she passed. But I’m gonna make this nice for you, so don’t worry.”

Tears well in my eyes as the needle meets my skin. He knows. Without me even having to tell him he knows the significance and the purpose of what I’m doing.

Moose must see that I’m upset because the sound of the needle stops and he looks over at me. The look of annoyance no longer on his face. “You okay?”

I nod, lips pressed together.

He doesn’t say anything and goes back to work.

Moose always was a man of few words but being here with him today highlights for me just how much I hate that we’ve become virtual strangers.

Chapter Four

Moose

Hell.

This is pure fucking hell.

Being this close to Reagan again means I’m surrounded by the scent of her cherry blossom body lotion. I have to see and feel the smoothness of her skin as I press the needle. Watch her chest rise and fall with every labored breath.

I’m used to naked chicks on my table, but this isn’t just some broad with her hand over her tit. It’s the one woman who broke my heart.

Back before Reagan’s mom got sick, we went out a few times. I knew she was something special then and how some dumb fuck like me got her to agree to go out I’ll never know. But she did and because I’m not completely stupid, I recognized what an amazing woman she was. We had a connection I’d never felt with anyone before, and I was determined not to screw it up.

Little had I known it would be her that would throw it all away. Citing the fact that she had too much on her plate and needed to concentrate on her mom, she pushed me away and ended things. I tried to tell her that I’d be there to support her but she had none of it. She wanted to be an island of one and there was no room for anyone—especially me.

Then she came knocking on my door seeking comfort. And that’s exactly what I gave her—in the form of multiple orgasms. She’d pop up sporadically over the next few years and I told myself that any part of her was better than no part of her. Until it wasn’t and when it wasn’t we had a blowout and I told her never to come knockin’ on my door again unless she was there for more than just a quick lay.

“I didn’t know you could do watercolors.” Her voice pulls me from my memories.

I shrug a shoulder. “Honey, I can do anythin’ I put my mind to. Not my usual jam but I make it work.” Damn it. How the hell did I let the word honey slip past my lips. It’s what I used to call her back in the day. “So why the rainbow?” I ask to move things along. Maybe she won’t notice my slip.

She goes on to explain the significance of the rainbow and I nod, vaguely remembering her mentioning it to me once.

“This okay?” I ask, having to hover over her to work on the far side of her tattoo.

“Yep.” But her yep sounds more like