Page 10 of Royally Twisted

“Shit, I don’t need to watch you to know what’s going on. The motion sensors alert me when someone walks across the threshold. From there, I just pull up the app from the security company, just like you could. I didn’t know you were working late?”

He explained about the appointment with King and how the other man had wanted the piece done yesterday, which in Tymber’s world meant right that minute.

“You better stay on their good side,” Lincoln warned.

“Thanks ma, I surely will do just that,” he said in a fake drawl, before locking the door behind him. A nightlight glowed from one of the outlets, but the curtains in the front were open, allowing light from the streetlights and the moon to illuminate the space.

“I’m glad to hear you’re taking this shit seriously. I’ll be in the shop early, want me to bring you some breakfast?” Lincoln was one of his best friends, his warning coming from the heart rather than him just being a jackass.

Like him, Link had both arms tatted up along with his back. However, Tymber’s chest now sported a huge piece over his scar, blending it in with the artwork. Some days he didn’t think about what he’d have done if he’d not found out he had the big C word so early. More than likely he’d be dead instead of standing in the middle of the apartment listening to Link mumble. “Shoot me a text when you’re on the way. If I’m still here, I’ll take you up on that,” he agreed, hanging up after a few more words.

Tymber made his way to the bedroom he used and looked at the clock beside the bed, its bright light of the numbers swam in his vision. “Fuck, I’m whipped.” He pressed a button on top, dimming the lights. He was going to sleep for the next twelve hours. His eyes caught onto the last numbers that had called him. Link, King, and Ivy. Just saying her name had his thumb hovering over the keys to call her. Without giving himself a chance to back out, he pressed the call button, waiting for either Ivy’s voice, or the voicemail to pick up. It was after midnight, so he wouldn’t presume she’d be up, but he wanted to hear her voice. After doing the memorial piece for King, his mind was a jumbled mess. Hearing a sleepy Ivy answer had his dick jerking in his jeans.

“Hey, lumberjack, what’s going on?”

Her tone wasn’t one of anger at his call so late, which gave him hope. “I just finished doing a tattoo and thought I’d see if you were still up.”

The sound of fabric shifting had him imagining her in bed, nekkid. If only he was there to see for himself. Instead, he stripped his shirt off while holding the phone out. Next he stripped out of his jeans, letting them lay where he dropped them. Her deep breath through the phone met his announcement.

“I want a tattoo of a quote. Do you have any appointments open, or maybe one of your other artists could do it?”

Tymber climbed in bed, his instant denial never spoken. If Ivy wanted a tattoo, it would be him inking her perfect skin, not anyone else. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, getting comfortable while she spoke. “Words on a body can be tough. Do you want to write it out and I use it to make a stencil, or do you trust me and my writing?”

“I have shit for penmanship. How’s yours?”

Again, the sound of her shifting around made all kinds of thoughts swirl in his brain, but he ruthlessly pushed them back. “How about this. Tomorrow, you come down to the shop, and we’ll figure it out?” The thought of seeing her again shouldn’t excite him as much as it did. Fuck, he’d never really wanted or needed to see a woman the next day, not even ones he’d somewhat dated. His mind ground to a halt. Had he been a dick all this time he’d considered himself one of the good guys? Mentally he shook the thought away. He was always upfront with women, never led them to believe he was the forever kind.

“I can do that. I, uh, I have some errands to run in the morning. What time is your last appointment?”

Ivy chewed on her thumbnail, the taste of acrylic filling her mouth when she bit too hard, breaking off a piece of her pretty nail color. Another errand she’d have to do tomorrow, or rather later today since it was almost one in the morning. Tymber gave her the time he’d be free, his tone not giving away to how he felt about seeing her again. Taking a huge leap of faith, she told him she’d see him at six the following evening. Before she could hang up, she heard him speaking.

“What did you say? Sorry, I was distracted.” Shoot, even to her own ears that was a lame excuse.

“No worries. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner afterward?”

Was that hope in his words or her wishful thinking? Either way, she was grabbing onto his offer with both hands. They talked for another half hour, his quick wit made her laugh more than she’d done in forever. Tomorrow, she’d get the words she’d thought of earlier inked on her ribs, then dinner with the sexy lumberjack.

“See you later,” Tymber said.

“Alright, sweet dreams.” Good God Almighty, what the hell made her say that? She squeezed the phone in her palm, her eyes closing while she mentally berated herself.

“I sure hope they are,” Tymber agreed.

Her death grip relaxed as a laugh tumbled from her. He hung up without another word, but her mind wouldn’t shut down quite so easily. Damn, she was so off her game it wasn’t funny, coming on to a man she barely knew like she had. “Oh well, what do all the cool people say? Yolo, motherfuckers.” Ivy’s laugh ended as she thought of Luke and his love of the YOLO way of living. He’d even had it inked on his body, only to have it covered up a few months later. “Such a silly man,” she whispered, wishing he were there to tell her what she should wear on her date with Tymber.

*****

The next day she gotup, feeling somewhat refreshed after taking a quick shower, and assessed the apartment. Whoever the club had sent over hadn’t done any real damage, more of a message sort of thing. Why they were fucking with her, she didn’t know. Her entire life had been with the club in some form. First, as Luke’s friend, then as Luke’s girlfriend. She’d never had a cut like some of the old ladies, the women who wore the patch declaring them the property of whatever brother she was with. Luke hadn’t wanted to be like his brothers, yet he was immersed in club politics just the same. It was easy to go along with him as his girl. Nobody fucked with her when she was with Luke. Looked as though that time was over. She wondered if she should call King and find out what was what. An image of him beating the hell out of someone he’d considered a traitor to the club kept her from following through.

Nope, she would ride this out like she did every other pothole in her life. Going from her mother’s home to Luke’s after her stepdad had tried to get into her bed, Ivy had cried to Luke about the abuse she’d already suffered at his hands. Allowing the fucker access to her bed wasn’t something she had been willing to do. Memories flooded her of how her mom had reacted to Ivy’s claims. Her hand went to her cheek, the sting from the slap she’d gotten still hurt all these years later. She didn’t know if her mother and the jackass were still together. What she did know was that King and Duke had a come to Jesus talk with them both after Luke gave her stepdad a beat down, and then they’d come back with a couple bags of her clothes, promising she’d always have a home with them. “I shouldn’t have let Luke talk me into pretending.” No use crying over spilled milk, she thought.

After getting ready, she picked up her bag, making sure the new keys were on her keychain, then headed toward the door. A quick glance at the screen showed her the front of the building, assuring her nobody waited at the bottom for her.

Hours later, her palms were sweating while she backed into a spot in front of Twisted Ink. Mentally she prepared herself to see Tymber, yet no amount of preparation could’ve helped her at her first sight of him, bent over a body with the tattoo gun in his hand. Metal music playing made her entrance less noticeable until the bells above the door dinged, signaling her arrival. Three men lifted their heads, each one previously intent on their tasks. Ivy waved, her eyes caught and held by Tymber’s. Damn, the man is even more gorgeous than she remembered. Today, he had on a black T-shirt without the flannel, leaving his arms bare for her perusal. Holy shit, he was mouth-wateringly sexy without even trying. She watched his hand holding the tattoo gun lift, noticing he wore a ring on his thumb and one on his pointer finger of his right hand. She wondered where he’d gotten them. “I’m a little early,” she said, hating the way her voice cracked.

“Have a seat. I’m almost done here.” Tymber nodded toward the man on his table.

True to his words, Tymber finished up, walking his client through the care instructions. While he cleaned up, she took in the inside of Twisted Ink. The art lining the walls were gorgeous. She got up to look at one closer.

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