Her Double Mountain Outlaws

I almost thought Caleb was going to keep asking questions, but he just shrugged.

“Hey, do what you gotta do, right?” He nodded with his chin. “Hop on, beautiful.”

I grinned, feeling my cheeks burn as I shouldered my bag and swung my leg over the bike. I moved against him, shivering as I pressed into his strong, powerful body. He kicked the engine on, and when the bike rumbled fiercely to life, my hands instinctively slid around his waist to hold on to him.

“Hang on,” he murmured, turning towards me before he gunned the engine and roared us out of the parking lot into the night.

* * *

“Thanks.”

I trembled as I swung my leg off the bike, already missing the feel of his body against me, and the feel of his muscles ripping under my fingers through his shirt. Truth be told, I’d never ridden on a bike before, and the whole short drive back to my place had been a thrill.

…The fact that I was holding on to one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever laid eyes on while an engine rumbled between my thighs didn’t exactly hurt.

“Anytime, Doc,” Caleb murmured, crossing his arms over his chest again.

I started to open my mouth, and then paused, and then turned back, my lips moving without words. Before finally, I shook my head as I dragged my eyes back to his.

“Do you… I mean. Do you want to come in for a drink?”

Instantly, I cringed.

“Fuck, sorry.” I winced. “I’m so sorry.”

But Caleb just chuckled. “Darlin’, if my entire sobriety was in danger of falling apart just because you offered me a drink, I’d be in a shitload of trouble.”

I smiled, my face hot.

“Uh, tea then? I’ve got tea.”

I’ve got tea? Really?

I bit, cringing even harder inside.

“Sweetheart,” Caleb growled, his eyes flashing it the darkness. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy you invite in for tea.”

I swallowed, shrugging. “Well look at me breaking all the rules.”

What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?

There was flirting with danger, like getting on his bike. But inviting him inside? Yeah, that broke all sorts of my own rules. And rules aside, there was Landon—Landon as in Caleb’s best friend, who I also couldn’t seem to get out of my freaking head after one kiss.

And yet here I was, inviting Caleb inside at this hour, when I knew Lucy wasn’t home.

This was a terrible idea.

7

Kennedy

“So…” I sipped my tea, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Why tattoos? Just part of your image?”

Caleb chuckled, his eyes glinting. He took a slow drink from the steaming mug of tea.

Yup, this was a bad idea. Having Caleb in my house, alone, at night, after that kiss from earlier? Yeah, terrible idea.

“Why do I have them, or why do I put them on people?”

“Either?”

He shrugged, leaning back and raking his fingers over his jaw. “They’re cathartic for me. Maybe it’s a pain thing, but that’s not all of it. They’re like…” he frowned. “They’re like a shield. Armor, maybe. My life has been… shitty.” He chuckled. “Not recently, but before. And tattoos were way to deal with that pain without getting high or fucked up.”

Caleb leaned back in my sofa. “As for being a tattooist? I guess Landon and I both just fell into it. Art saved my life. It saved Landon’s too, actually. And tattoos are like, permanent art. There’s no do-overs either, so you focus, and you make sure what you’re putting down on skin has your everything behind it. It takes a focused head and dedicated heart to do it right.”

He shook his head.

“It’s Zen for me. Keeps me focused, keeps me grounded.”

“Is it hard to stay focused?”

His eyes sparked as they locked on mine.

“It is around you,” he murmured quietly.

I shivered as I quickly took a sip of tea.

“How about you, Doc?” Caleb grinned. “Got any ink?”

I blushed as I rolled my eyes, groaning. Caleb laughed, leaning forward.

“Yeah, that’s a yes.”

“One,” I sighed, shaking my head. “But…”

“What.”

“I hate it. Spring break, sophomore year of college.”

Caleb hooted, shaking his head. “Shit, ’nuff said.” He grinned. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well let’s see it.”

I snorted. “Hell no.”

“What? Why? I’m am a professional, after all.”

Professional or not, the thought of this man seeing my tattoo, considering where it was, made my whole body tingle with heat.

“Because…” I trailed off, blushing. “Because it’s in a certain place.”

Caleb grinned, wolfishly.

“Oh, now I definitely need to see it.”

A cat. Nineteen-year-old me, already wanting to “save the animals” and be a vet, had gotten freaking cat tattoo. A badly drawn, cartoony-looking kitty-cat with fucking heart eyes.

Seriously, it was bad. Really, really bad.

But it was the placement that made it even worse. A few shots of tequila deep and urged on by questionable college friends, I’d gotten it inked basically right inside the top left corner of by bikini line—just under the edge of most panty or swimsuit elastics.