There You Stand (4 page)

“Jude,” I said and he twisted his head toward me. “Thanks for trusting me enough to do this.”

His eyes widened as if I’d just divulged all of his secrets.

We were in a standoff again with the eyes and the breaths and the tension in the air, thick as a dust cloud, threatening to asphyxiate me.

Then he bowed his head and slid through the door.

Fuck.
I collapsed in the chair completely spent, as if I had just worked a twelve-hour shift.

The next few days were busy with work and completing a drawing course to keep up with my tattoo license. Oliver, the owner of Raw Ink, was big on continuing education and he didn’t give two shits if you hated school like I did. I’d gotten decent grades in high school and went on to get my associates degree in liberal arts, probably more to please my grandma than anything else.

After seeing Jude at the park, bar, and in my shop, I figured it was time for some different headspace. So I changed routes and took the dogs to walk along the bay side of the water, where there was a calm and appealing view. There was a kayak lift and some fishermen along the pier with their poles in the water.

As I sat on the bench peering out at the water, I figured it was time to steer my energies elsewhere. Outside of quick hookups, I hadn’t dated much. Since the last guy left me his trophy of a dog, it was clear that I wasn’t that great at choosing them lately.

I realized all of this focused energy on a quiet skateboarder was unhealthy. He was like a mystery that I wanted to untangle. But to what end? Who the fuck knew what his story was.

I felt like a seeker of lost causes and I didn’t need that shit in my life. Besides, the forced silence was killing me. I got so twitchy after my encounters with Jude that I played extra hard. Dex liked that of course because it made me ready to hang out until two in the morning.

By the end of the night, though, my thoughts would be so consumed with Jude that I’d have to head home and jack off to my fantasies of him. But it didn’t help my concentration for shit to come into the shop sleep deprived.

It was better than being hungover like Dex. I made an attempt to cut him off at midnight and it worked most nights, especially if I reminded him that he had a job to keep. But when it didn’t, at least I was there to call him a cab.

I walked the dogs back home and then hightailed it over to my shift at Raw Ink. I greeted Jessie at the front desk, as she changed screens on the computer to pull up my schedule. Bennett threw me a quick wave heading out the door, probably eager to get home to Avery. I sighed, wondering if I’d ever be able to find that with somebody again.

A deep loneliness had taken root inside of me but I covered it up with all of my activities. I knew if I only stopped long enough to contemplate it, I would realize just how lost and forlorn I really was.

Like a boat unmoored from the harbor, I floated along, seeking comfort from the damn wind. Except I would never acknowledge that the monotony was wearing me down with each passing day.

Dex strode up front to grab a fresh sketchpad from the supply drawer and broke me out of my thoughts. “You heading up to Zach’s again tonight?”

“Maybe,” I said. I had avoided the Hog’s Den for the past few nights, in my effort to steer clear of Jude. And since I didn’t want to take up Smoothie King Jonathan on his offer to hook up, heading to all the straight bars with Dex was the only option I had left.

Dex wasn’t welcome at the Hog’s Den and if he stepped foot anywhere near it, he was sure to be thrown out on his ass again. It amused him and everyone else that I’d become a regular. I drove a motorcycle, so at least I had that in common with their clientele.

“Why, you need a sidekick?”

“Always,” he said.

“Two drink maximum,” I said, stifling a yawn. Dex shrugged and walked away.

“You realize you’re not helping, right?” Jessie said.

“You think he wouldn’t just head up there alone?” I said. “At least I can keep him down to two. And hey, I could try to talk to him and figure out why he’s been going overboard so much. It wasn’t always like that.”

“Do you actually talk or just goof off the entire time?”

“Whatever,” I scoffed.

As Jessie flipped the screen toward me, I was surprised to see Jude on my schedule today. Instead of obsessing about it, I forced it from my thoughts like I had all week, and focused on the workday ahead. So when Jessie called back for my next appointment of the afternoon, I was surprised how many hours had already flown by.

When Jude brusquely appeared at the door, I didn’t have time to process it any longer. “Come in.”

He set down his bag and approached with wariness in his eyes either from the work that was about to be done or from seeing me again. For certain there was some kind of tension between us and I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it. But now was not the time or place.

I showed him his tattoo on a larger scale from the transfer paper. His eyes grew wide and I wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. It was a close likeness to what he had drawn but I had taken liberty to add my own flair in the minute details.

“Do you approve?” I asked, my stomach unexpectedly tense about his opinion, though I’d never doubted my work before. If there was one thing I was confident about in my life, it was my skill as an artist.

“Amazing.” One word. That was all he’d allowed.

And it was those three syllables that had worked their way beneath my layers and burrowed deep inside my gut.

Fuck.
It was one hard-earned acknowledgement.

“Thanks, man,” I said, breaking away from his gaze. I finished prepping the machine and set out the color. Black. It was dark and intimidating but suited the tree perfectly. I noticed how his other tattoos were also colorless, but I ruthlessly clamped my curiosity down.

“Let’s get started. After you take off your shirt, I’ll have you lie down here.” I tapped the padded table, which looked similar to what you’d find in a massage parlor. I preferred my clients to recline in this position for back tattoos. “I’m sure you already know the drill.”

When I didn’t hear any noise, I looked over my shoulder and that action seemed to snap him out of some spell. He stepped forward and lifted his shirt over his head. I couldn’t help staring. I didn’t know how many more opportunities I’d have.

After he lay facedown on my table, I took notice of the fine lines and nuances of his body beyond the scars. How his shoulders and biceps flexed and how his shorts hung low enough that I could practically envision the lower half of him naked.

I swallowed roughly. I could not allow my mind to wander to how it would feel to touch that round and tight ass. Working with a painful hard-on for the next hour would be sheer torture.

“You comfortable?” I asked. “You’ll need to keep your arms in that same position above your head.”

When he nodded, I took the transfer sheet and meticulously applied it to the middle of his back, making sure to press down all the corners and straight edges. Jude’s head was facedown resting on his hands and he let out a breath.

When I was satisfied that the paper had aligned as perfectly as I could manage, I slowly peeled it back to reveal the framework of the tattoo.

“Do you want me to grab the hand mirror so you can see what the outline looks like?”

When he shook his head, it gave me the confidence to move forward. He was putting his trust in me so I needed to keep myself focused.

Next I fired up the tattoo machine. “I’m going to get started. Let me know if you need a break.”

He nodded and then turned his head so that his cheek rested on his arm. He stared at the wall behind me and I got to work. He winced a couple of times at the beginning but just like most of my customers, he became accustomed to the initial discomfort of the needle.

It’s hard to describe what getting a tattoo feels like. It depends on the individual and the placement on the body. But I knew from experience that the middle to lower back was one of the most painful places to receive a tattoo, because it was bonier and contained less fatty tissue. Again, it varied depending on the person. But Jude was taking it like a champ and besides, could it have hurt worse than the brutality that had actually caused the scars in the first place?

If I were to speculate, the round spots certainly looked like burn marks of some sort. Maybe from a cigarette. Before a shudder could quake through me, I sealed those thoughts away along with the other tragedies I was best at ignoring in my life and got myself in the zone.

I was hyperaware of Jude, but soon enough the tension disappeared as I lost myself in the work. Normally I’d ask the client questions throughout the procedure to pass the time, but that would be an impossible feat with Jude.

When I next glanced at his face, I realized he’d been watching me work. That was nothing new. Customers needed to keep their eyes planted somewhere but somehow knowing Jude had been observing me made my stomach plant firmly in my throat. When our eyes next met, he didn’t even try to look away.

He merely studied my appearance, from my eyes down to my lips and back up again. I wondered if it was because I wasn’t wearing my skullcap today. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen me without it, come to think of it.

I knew I wasn’t a bad-looking guy and had been told by both women and men that I was hot. I kept trim and fit and made sure to groom the scruff along my chin, which was normally a dark brown color that matched my hair, but could turn copper in the summer. Plenty of guys liked the feel of the beard against their faces and I kept it buzzed enough that it was never messy looking.

“You still doing okay?” I asked in a hoarse voice and he nodded. His gaze, which had momentarily travelled down to my hands, now snapped back to my eyes.

Goddamn, his scrutiny was messing with my head.

To keep my nerves from jangling to the ground, I asked another question, even though I knew he might not respond. “Where did you get all of your other ink?”

Just as I suspected, he didn’t reply, so I added, “In England?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t lived there since I was a teenager.”

Holy fuck that accent did something to me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

“Ah, got it,” I said, trying to keep my composure. “So you’ve been in the States since then?”

He didn’t answer, only looked at me.

“You know, if we’re going to be in this room for several more appointments, it might help pass the time if we actually engaged in a conversation.”

Again with the stare. So I attempted to read his eyes. He wasn’t angry or annoyed, but maybe slightly amused. Entertained by my lame-ass endeavor of trying to get him to talk. And that kind of ticked me off.

Why in the hell had he decided to pick me of all people to do his fucking ink if he clearly preferred to just sit in silence? If he knew I jabbered away every other time I’d run into him?

Before I could clamp it down, the irritation boiled deep in my gut. “Why is talking so damn hard for you?”

His eyebrows shot together. I’d gotten a reaction from him.
Good.

His gaze soldered to mine, and I nearly lost myself in its intensity.

“Why is silence so bloody hard for you?”

I nearly swallowed my tongue. Not only had he been paying attention, but now he sounded annoyed. Well that made two of us.

So I decided to go for honesty instead of asking him to get the fuck off my table and walk the hell out. Besides, what did I have to lose?

“Silence gives me too much time to think,” I said. “And there are just some things I don’t want to think about.”

Again with the gaping, except his eyes had softened.

I had just shared something with him. Something fucking big.

Shit, my chest was constricting like a vise grip. I was so rattled by this guy it was as if he was unscrambling me piece by piece.

Fucker wasn’t going to even engage me. I lifted the machine again and got to work. He continued staring at me. And right then I decided: Screw it. Screw
him.

But then I heard his low voice so I moved the needle away from his skin to listen properly. “I guess we both have stuff to hide.”

I shut my eyes at that revelation. When I reopened them, he had changed positions to stare at the opposite wall and it felt like the sun had shifted away from me.

I felt cold, strangely emotional, and nearly desperate to have his attention again.

Which was all kinds of fucked up. I finished my work with a huge lump in my throat. Even my lame back was feeling the burn from my muscles remaining so tense.

“That’s enough for today,” I said after the biggest span of torturous silence I’d had to endure in a long while, outside of a few nights of insomnia.

He sat up and began pulling on his shirt.

I refused to look at him, which was childish at best. Instead, I focused all of my attention and energy on clearing the supplies in front of me. “Do you need the usual instructions about removing the bandage after a couple of hours and keeping the area clean so it can heal?”

“No, Cory, I don’t,” he said in a strong and clear voice. “Thank you for your time.”

I headed to my grandmother’s house first thing in the morning to clean out her gutters and install a new dead bolt on her front door. I was pretty handy and was glad to do it especially if it meant keeping her safe.

When I returned home after my shift at Raw Ink, Chopper was impatient, walking in circles around me, nudging at my hands. Even a good scratch behind the ears didn’t help him settle. Ace, on the other hand, was curled up on his dog bed in my room, perfectly content. He was used to having a day or two off from walking every now and again, but it was as if Chopper would die of restlessness if he didn’t burn off some energy.

So I clipped on his leash and walked him about a mile along the bay, all the way to the kayak launch dock. Dusk was fast approaching and the sun was beginning to set, reflecting like a halo off the water. I was tired and hot, and the idea of taking off my shoes and wading in the shallow end seemed pretty enticing.

As Chopper tugged his leash past a row of colorful kayaks, I threw off my sneakers and trudged closer to the edge. Chopper stuck his nose in the water and lapped his tongue at the cool liquid. Some dogs were terrified of water, but I was going to bet that if I had a stick to throw, Chopper would charge right after it. Hell, it might tire him out further.

But then he’d be all wet and we’d be a complete mess. Besides, what if I was wrong? What if he couldn’t swim? I sank my toes in the steady flow as it ebbed near the shore and felt instant relief. I bent at the waist, cupped my hands to scoop up some water, and then rubbed it along my neck.

When I straightened my gaze landed on a pair of all-too-familiar toned legs. Those toned legs were standing on top of a board and the owner—Jude York—had a long paddle and was propelling himself to shore. Behind him on the board were a cooler and a pole.

Jude fished from a paddleboard? This guy never ceased to amaze me.

But I knew I needed to hightail it out of there before he floated closer to the coastline. He hadn’t spotted us yet and I didn’t want him to think we had followed him out here.

“Let’s go,” I muttered so as to not call any attention to myself. Of course, Chopper was reluctant to leave and began twisting around my legs and whining.

I knew the moment he spotted Jude because he lunged into the water, dragging me forward with him. I fell on my knees in the shallow end and scratched the shit out of my shin along the rocks on the bottom of the lake. Damn, that stung. I could already tell I was bleeding. I had no control over the leash so before it cut the blood supply to my wrist or broke it cleanly in half, I let it go. I’d just swim out to get Chopper if I had to.

But then Jude jumped off his board to save the day again. He grabbed hold of Chopper’s leash and knelt down in the water while simultaneously using that whistle sound to calm his ass down. The dog became perfectly still as if awaiting his next command.

Jude’s eyes met mine and his brow furrowed. At first I thought it was in frustration but as I gingerly pushed off of my knees to stand up, I realized that he could tell that I’d been injured. And it wasn’t just my shin, it was my fucking back. I think the damn dog had thrown it out of alignment.

Jude made quick work of pulling his board into shore, making sure it was secured on the rocks, and then headed toward me. He was still holding Chopper’s leash and I straightened to my full height with some effort because goddamn it, I wasn’t some wuss unable to stand on my own two feet.

I looked down and saw my shin was bleeding, a trickle of blood making a path down my leg. Big fucking deal. The water stung so I carefully treaded toward land. My cheeks burned from embarrassment and I tried not to limp. Basically, my back was like my Achilles’ heel. Way to keep it macho and classy.

I felt Jude’s warmth and Chopper’s nose nudging the back of my knee as if to apologize, so I looked over my shoulder. “It’s like you’re a fucking homing device for this mutt or something. Goddamn going to kill me one day.”

A smirk pulled at Jude’s lip as I bent down to snatch my shoes from the dirt. I intended on grabbing the leash from him and sending him on his way, when I felt the searing heat of his fingers on my arm.

I held in my gasp because I had imagined this scenario so many times in my head. But never in a million years would I have pictured it happening after falling on my face because my dog had acted like a moron. I didn’t know which one of us had a bigger hard-on for Jude.

When I turned to look at him, he was standing so close I could see faint flecks of brown in his vividly green eyes. As his gaze slid down the front of my torso to the ground, his eyes widened. “Your foot is a bloody mess.”

“What?” That’s when I looked down and saw how right he was. There was a deep scrape below my ankle that I hadn’t even noticed because the fire in my back took precedence. I felt like a little kid who had fallen off his bike and was being checked on by a virtual stranger. “It’s fine.”

I tried to reach for Chopper’s leash but Jude began hightailing it toward the street and all I could do was hobble behind.

I gritted my teeth. “Can you hand over my dog? I need to head home.”

Still he didn’t answer, he just looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

“What the hell?” When we had gotten to the road, I calculated how far I had to go to make it home. It was not going to be pretty. I was already leaving an impressive trail of blood behind me on the pavement. “Give me the damn leash or I’m just going to leave my dog with you. He’d like that; he’s apparently your biggest fan.”

Now I saw a dimple indent his cheek as he turned the corner and began heading west. I was about to part ways and go home—to hell with him—when he finally spoke. “Relax. My flat is right over here.”

My heart almost hurtled out of my chest. “You mean the place you live?”

He nodded again. I should’ve been grateful but a larger part of me was panicking in a completely different way. He was obviously concerned about me enough to take me somewhere to get cleaned up. My foot was gushing all over the place.

“I’ll get blood all over your stuff.”

He stopped and his face swung close to mine. “No worries, mate. Got to get that cleaned up. I’ll come back for my fishing gear later.”

“It’ll get stolen.”

He looked up and his eyes scanned the horizon. “It’ll be fine.”

Right then I heard the distinct sound of an engine. A motorcycle engine. What the fuck? Had Jude been out here with one of the Disciples? Now I was losing it.

My head was so jumbled, I just nodded and continued following. At this point my abraded shin was stinging and my cut foot was throbbing.

Chopper trailed beside him on the leash like a good walker. The good walker that he never was with me. Little fucker. It was like he was showing off for Jude or something.

He turned into the driveway of a house that had this impressive front porch and for a moment I wondered how a guy that worked at the Board Room could afford its rent.

But then he continued walking past the silver car in the driveway and I spotted a tiny structure in the back of the property. Some of the century-old homes in this town had small cottages on their land and I’d known a few college students who rented them out over the years.

When he got to the door, he placed his bag on the ground and began digging in his pocket for his keys. I figured at this point he’d hand over the leash so he wouldn’t have to juggle everything, but he never did.

“Let me.” When I reached past him to grab for the lead, my chin accidentally brushed against the outer shell of his ear. I felt him shudder at the same time my mouth tingled. Either I had surprised him or he was responding to my touch, which made me feel heady. As well as confused. But I couldn’t concentrate on that due to the throbbing.

He didn’t respond or loosen his grip on the leash as he turned the key in the lock. He stepped inside, flipped on the light, and then walked across the room to a worn-in brown couch. He patted the cushion, directing me to sit down.

While I hobbled over and took a seat, he returned with a kitchen towel. He secured the rag around my ankle, creating a kind of a tourniquet. Then he grabbed a pillow near the armrest and placed it beneath my ankle, so that I was half lounging on his sofa.

In a daze, I watched as he led Chopper into the kitchen, brought down a bowl from the cupboard, and filled it with water for him.

As I took in the sparse but clean room with its worn-in furniture and subdued colors, he shuffled down the hall and flipped on the light to what I supposed was the bathroom. He rummaged around in the cupboards for what I could only assume was some sort of first aid kit.

Words of protest were on the tip of my tongue. But what was I planning to object to? I allowed him to lead me to his house like some gimp, lay me on his couch, in order to tend to my wound, which now burned like crazy.

Suddenly I was going to stop him, tell him not to bother? I was being ridiculous. It was better to just allow him to bandage me up, and afterward I’d say thank you and be on my way.

Truth of the matter was that it felt so good to lie down, I momentarily shut my eyes. My back was provided such relief that I could scarcely drum up the emotions to care if my shirt was riding up my stomach or if my hair was a tangle of knots from rushing my wet fingers through it five hundred times on the way over here.

My eyes shot back open when I heard Jude heading toward me with an armful of supplies. His eyes were focused and intent on my face and then slid down to my ankle, but not before they snagged somewhere in the center of my body.

For all I knew he was checking me for injuries, but my instincts told me differently. Jude York was attracted to me and he was wholly conflicted about it. Possibly because up to this point, he thought he was straight or maybe he just wasn’t leaving room for anybody in his life because of stuff he had to hide.

He dropped an assortment of creams, disinfectant sprays, and Band-Aids onto the coffee table in front of me.

“A regular damn drugstore in that bathroom,” I muttered and he chuckled softly.

I inhaled sharply because it was the most amazing sound. I had made Jude York laugh.

When he saw the astonishment in my eyes, his lips pulled narrow and a red splotch climbed up his neck.

I regretted my reaction immediately.