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Authors: Melody Snow Monroe

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BOOK: Tattoos and Transformations
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Chapter Three

Dakota was exhausted. For the last five days, she’d worked like a dog trying to get things organized in her shop. Two artists had come by with their works to sell. One artist gave her fantastic pencil sketches. The other person’s work wasn’t so great, but right now she couldn’t be picky. It would be up to the marketplace to determine what sold and what didn’t. Dakota discussed pricing with both of them and promised to keep their work up for a month. After that time, she’d rotate out the work if it didn’t sell.

Once she’d written up the contracts and scanned them into her computer, she closed the gallery and headed to her dad’s. She needed to see what she could salvage in the way of hiking gear. She thought about wearing her combat boots but decided they wouldn’t be particularly sexy. After a frustrating search in the basement, she came up empty-handed. The old boots she’d gotten years ago had dry rot, and the sole had separated from the bottom.
Damn
. Not to be deterred, she used some of the money Logan had lent her to start the business and splurged on hiking boots. If Clint liked the outdoors, she wanted to show him she could learn to like it, too. To make sure she didn’t end up with blisters on every part of her foot, she wore them all day Saturday hoping to break them in.

On Sunday, she wasn’t able to sleep in mostly because she was too excited about her trip with Clint to stay in bed. In two weeks the gallery would have its opening and there was still so much to get done.

For most of the morning, she worked on the design for the gallery invitations. There were two printers in town. Jade had recommended she use Speedy Print, as they would give her the best deal. On

29

Monday, she planned on getting prices. This would bring her one step closer to realizing her dream.

At lunch, she ate as much as she could to ensure she wouldn’t run out of energy climbing the ridge. Clint was in such great shape that he might consider rock climbing easy.
Crap
. She was kidding herself.

She’d never be able to compete with a physically fit Clint. Maybe she should call and cancel.

No, you want to go
.

Yes, she did, but dying while climbing wasn’t on her calendar this week.
Aaargh
.

So as not to wait until the last minute, she collected her canvas, paints, and camera and placed them in her artist case. She prayed this would go well.

A little before three, Clint came in the shop. “Dakota?”

“Coming.”

I can do this
.

She was actually more comfortable in the hiking boots and shorts than in the heels she had on the other day. She wiped her palms down her pants, opened her door, and made sure to hang on to the handrail as she went down the stairs.

Oh, my
. Clint was in lightweight nylon pants, a loose woven shirt, and ankle-high boots. While it was different from his low-slung jeans and roughed-up cowboy boots, he looked just as hot.

His smile was more than she could hope for. “Hey. You got your paint stuff?”

“By the door.”

He looked behind him. “That works.”

He probably thought she’d bring a whole studio’s paint supply. “If I have to carry it, I didn’t want to bring too much.”

“Babe, I’ll do the heavy lifting.”

She wasn’t used to anyone doing things for her. “I can manage.” He cocked a brow and motioned they leave. “I’ve got everything we need in the truck.”

30

 

Her palms were still wet, and they hadn’t even left. Fifteen years dreaming of this moment put a toll on her nerves. “Where is this ridge?”

“In the national forest west of here.”

She didn’t care if they had to drive to Colorado. Being with Clint would be wonderful. To her surprise, it only took an hour to get to their destination. “I’ve lived here my whole life and never knew this place existed.” Maybe that’s because she never had the chance to hike.

Her dad never took her anywhere, probably because he was always working.

“Stick with me, babe. I’ll show you things you’ve never experienced.”

Damn
. He didn’t have to add a chuckle to his comment. Her mind shot to all the wrong places—like in the bedroom where she envisioned herself making love to both him and Morgan.

He pulled off the side of the road. “Ready to paint?”

“Where are we?”

He got out of the truck and leaned back in. “It’s a surprise.” She jumped out before he could open her door. From the back he pulled a backpack and managed to stuff her bag inside. “Here’s some water. Make sure you stay hydrated.”

The water bottle came in a holder that wrapped around her waist.

“This is cool.”

“I want you to lead. My legs are longer than yours.” She laughed. “Everyone’s legs are longer than mine. How far is it?”

“Maybe a forty-minute hike.”

Good
. She could handle that. She hoped. The beginning of the path was fairly flat. The sunlight was soft and cast a warm glow on all the plants. “Ooh. Can I stop and take a picture?” He placed a hand on her back. “That’s what we’re here for.” He slipped off his backpack so she could retrieve her camera. It only took a moment to figure out the metering. She bracketed her

31

shots. “I’m good. I’ll carry it so I can stop when I want.”

“You’re the boss.”

She couldn’t believe how considerate he was. They’d gone less than a hundred feet when a small field of ferns appeared. The way the light bounced off the curled tips gave a mystical feel to the area.

“I need to shoot this.” He laughed. “Go ahead and mock me. Wait until you see what I can do with this.” She hadn’t been this excited since Clint had walked into the tattoo parlor.

She walked around the field in order to find the perfect shot. On her stomach, she zoomed in on a mushroom nestled next to the fern.

Click, click
.

Satisfied with the result, she got up.

“Darlin’. If I’d known you were going to examine and photograph every leaf, I would have suggested we leave early in the morning.” He didn’t seem upset, but if she expected to get the panoramic shot she wanted, she couldn’t afford to stop every few minutes. “I get it.”

For the next thirty minutes, she hiked and hiked. Her heart raced, but she’d be damned if she stopped to catch her breath. From now on, she needed to find time to get in an aerobic workout.

There were some tricky spots where she had to climb up and over some boulders, but Clint was there to help her. Eventually, the trees thinned, which in her mind meant they were nearing the top.

“Take my hand.” She clasped his outstretched palm. “It gets a bit rough.”

She liked having him help her. It made her feel safe and cared for.

When they ducked around some brush, they came to an outcropping.

She stilled. “It’s breathtaking.” The mountains appeared in the distance. In the valley below sat a large river bordered by miles of green land.

“I thought you’d like it.”

She snapped off a few shots. She’d only be able to draw the outline of the vista and do a bit of painting before it got too dark.

32

 

Clint pulled out a foam pad, a paper bag, and two seats that rested on the ground.

He removed her tote bag that contained her canvas and paints.

“Come join me. The view is good from here.” The whole concept that she was on top of a ridge with the man she’d had a crush on her whole life still boggled her mind. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She sat next to him. For some reason, she wasn’t in the mood yet to paint. Getting to know Clint was more important. “How did the tat session go yesterday?” He’d said they could compare their tattoos when he came over to the studio, but since both of theirs had been bandaged, she didn’t press the issue.

He grinned. “You want to see?”

Was he kidding? “Yes. I hope it’s in some intimate spot.”
Jeez. I
so did not just say that.

He laughed. “Not quite.”

He stripped off his shirt. With the bandage gone, she could see more of the tribal design that circled his arm. “It’s beautiful.” Damn.

She should have tamped down the enthusiasm a bit.

Not surprisingly, he chuckled. “Let me see yours.” That would require her to take off her shirt since the crew neck wouldn’t move enough. While there was a breeze, she was hot from all the hiking. Good thing she’d worn a red lace bra. While a jog bra would have been more practical, she wanted to be prepared in case things got hot.

“Sure.” In one swift movement, she pulled off her shirt. His eyes widened. Bet he hadn’t expected her to do that.

“Now I know you’re Dakota Smith.”

“Smart-ass.”

He leaned over, acting like he wanted to see each hair on the brush. “I like it. Harley did a great job.” The tip of his finger traced the outline, and shivers of pleasure shot out in every direction. The top of his head was next to her mouth, and she debated placing a kiss

33

on his crown.

He moved back before she’d made the decision.

“I thought so.”

Instead of returning to his seat, he continued to hover. “Got any other ones?”

“You know I do.”

“Where?”

This was getting close to crossing the line. If she wanted to know Clint’s agenda, she needed to find out now rather than questioning his intentions for the next few weeks.

“Got one on my ass.”

“Me, too.”

It was now or never. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” His cheeks dimpled. “You are still sassy.”

“Easy to change the outside.” Too bad it was impossible to change the inside.

Clint got up on his knees, unbuckled his pants, and slipped them down. “You sure, darlin’?”

Holy shit.
He knew what was at stake. If she said yes, there was no telling how far he’d go. “Yup.”

He turned his back to her. His fingers latched on to his boxer’s waistband and he pulled down his pants. She burst out laughing. He looked over his shoulder.

“You like?”

The Rolling Stones’ lips-and-tongue logo was not what she expected. “Absolutely.”

He pulled up his pants.
Damn
. She should have taken more time to study his fine ass. Since he’d kept his back to her, she hadn’t gotten a look at his cock.

“Your turn.”

She did the same thing he’d done to her. Since she didn’t want to expose her pussy if she didn’t have to, she turned her back to him and dropped trou. His finger touched her ass. “Not what I expected.”
34

 

His distressed tone wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. Slowly, she pulled up her pants, buckled up, and sat back on the chair. “Like I said, it has meaning only to me.”

He touched her hand. “You want to tell me what it means?” Other than his sister and Harley, no one had seen her tattoo. She’d gotten it when she was sixteen. Explaining the pain wasn’t her first choice of topics she wanted to discuss with Clint, but if she ever expected to have a relationship, she had to learn to share.

“The rose stands for my mom because it was her favorite flower.

The water drops are tears because she didn’t love me enough to stay.” Clint’s cheeks sagged. “Come here.” He gathered her in his arms and held her tight. The kiss to the top of her head helped soothe the ache, but she didn’t need his sympathy.

She sat up. “I’m good.”

“Your mom died. I’m sure she didn’t purposefully do it.” The wind swept through her hair, and she had to push the strands out of her face. She let the heel of her hand brush her eyes, which were a bit wet. “I told everyone that, but it was a lie.” He leaned her back. His brows were pinched and his jaw slack, almost as if he was experiencing the pain right along with her. “You want to tell me about it?”

She hadn’t dredged up that horror for a long time. There was something about the way Clint asked that made her want to share with him. “It’s kind of a blur since she left when I was six, but according to my not-very-talkative father, Mom thought she was marrying a man who could provide a better life for her. Apparently, a blacksmith wasn’t good enough for her. She pretended we were rich, and she’d go out to lunch with her friends and drink. Soon she became an alcoholic, or so says my dad, though I do remember finding her on the floor passed out a few times.”

He picked her hand and ran a thumb over the top. “That must have been tough.”

“I guess. The bad part was when my parents started fighting.

 

35

She’d yell, and my dad would just listen. Then one day she was gone.”

His audible gasp got to her. “I don’t think she left because of you.”

She’d tried to tell herself that. “Then why didn’t she ever call me?

I’d get a birthday card every year until I was ten. Then they stopped.”

“Are you sure she’s still alive?”

BOOK: Tattoos and Transformations
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