Page 45 of Fighting for You
The similarities between him and Margot when they’re mad are painfully obvious now: the same scrunched brows, the way their light green eyes darken, even their stance is similar with their arms crossed over their chests in the same exact way. They’re so different—both physically and in temperament—unless you’re familiar with their mannerisms, it’s hard to see the resemblance.
Margot is short, has pale skin, void of any ink, and soft features. Hayes is tall, massive, covered in tattoos, and all hard edges. If I didn’t know they’re siblings, I’d never guess it by just seeing them in the same room.
Margot tenses at the sight of Hayes. Her reaction puts me on alert. I’ve never seen Hayes be violent, and I think he’s a gooddude, but between hearing how he spoke to Margot the other day and now this, I’m on high alert. She rushes over to him, and I can’t hear what she asks.
“Goth-Barbie gets to fucking stay,” he seethes. I’d forgotten about his petition to the city about having two tattoo shops within a certain square radius. He’d told them it shouldn’t be allowed considering how small the town is, and he was here first. We’d been waiting for the last week to hear back.
“What? How?” Kori says as she walks toward us.
“There’s no ordinance saying two similar businesses can’t be in the same town square. And apparently, Otis doesn’t own that strip, so he has no control over it. He said if it were up to him, he wouldn’t have leased it to her regardless of how long it’d sat empty.”
That was the other problem someone had pointed out when he’d first brought up the “issue.” The storefront in question has been empty for close to four years now. It used to be a vacuum store or some shit, but not surprisingly, it didn’t do well in this era, so they closed up. Not sure Otis is telling him the truth though. An empty space is a money pit, I’m sure he would have leased it to anyone willing to sign. He probably just didn’t want to be on Hayes’ bad side, and honestly, I can respect that.
Everyone in the room nods their head in agreement, despite us all knowing it’s a load of shit.
“So it’s… a woman tattoo artist?” Margot asks, her voice much smaller than usual. Probably in an attempt not to piss him off more. We’d all get our heads bitten off for asking something like that, but I’m hoping he’s kinder to her. I’m self-aware enough to know if I had no skin in the game with Margot, I wouldn’t question anything Hayes did in regard to her. I’ve heard enough about “Booger” to know he loves her.
“Un-fucking-fortunately,” he replies as he runs his hand down his face.
I look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who has Hayes more worked up than I’ve ever seen him. There’s a ladder in front of the space like they’re getting ready to install the sign. I see a bright redheaded woman in overalls carrying a box toward the front door and a kid trailing behind her.
“Do we know her actual name?” Margot asks.
“Calla,” Archer pipes up. Hayes shoots him a death glare before turning to Margot and softening his face, almost like he forgot it was Margot he was talking to and not someone else. “I don’t know. And I don’t care. None of you should,” he says as he stomps off toward the back.
I look over at Archer who now has his eyes trained on his iPad mocking up a custom for someone, he looks about as awkward as I feel watching this all unfold. He keeps his head down, eyes fixed to the screen.
As the door to Hayes’ office slams shut, rattling the walls, Kori lets out a big sigh and says, “Well, this should be a blast.”
Chapter Nineteen
Margot
I’m annoyed. I’m annoyed as I change my outfit for the fourth time. I’m annoyed as I redo the cat eye makeup I learned on a YouTube tutorial for the third time. I was annoyed in the shower when, after a heated ten-minute internal debate—so many cons, one very big pro—I shaved my legs… along with everything else.
I’m annoyed at the butterflies in my stomach. I’m annoyed that I’m nervous and excited and giddy about this date and have been since the second I agreed to it three days ago. I should know better. It’s incredibly likely I’m setting myself up for disappointment.
I shouldn’t be looking so hard into how much trouble Brooks has gone through to ask me out. The more I think about it, the harder it is to convince myself it means nothing though. From what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t date in the conventional sense. And I’m not a casual dater. I really don’t want to be one of those “I can fix him, no, really I can” girls.
I’m trying to protect my heart, keeping it from getting entrenched in Brooks, but it’s hard to fight the pull to him when I think back on the man he’s given me glimpses of. I’m mostly annoyed because I know it’s a lost battle, and I’m already smitten.
I’m applying some lip gloss as a final touch to my face when there’s a loud knock on the front door downstairs. After a last look in the mirror to fluff my curls and shaking out my clammy hands to rid myself of some of the nerves, I make my way down. Unlocking the door is more of a challenge than usual since my fingers don’t seem to want to work properly.
Swinging the door open, the first thing I notice is the way Brooks is biting on his bottom lip. Coupled with the tension around his eyes, I realize I’m not the only one who’s nervous about tonight. Somehow that eases some of my anxiety.
“Hi,” I say, and it comes out much more breathy than I intended.
“Hey, Freckles.”
The nickname makes the giddy nerves surge again. My eyes trail down to his black slacks and button-down, a RED logo peeking out from behind his open leather jacket.
“Are you just coming from work?”
“Uhh, no.” Brooks’ face reddens, and he brings his arm up to rub at the back of his neck. He won’t meet my eyes. I tilt my head in question. Is this what Brooks looks like when he’s embarrassed? This might be my favorite version of him yet.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” he mumbles and then sighs, shoulders slumping. “I don’t have ‘date’ clothes. I realized about twenty minutes before I had to leave, so this is the best I could do.”
He looks up at me, and the sweet, sheepish look destroys any reservations I have about tonight.
