Page 2 of Run for Us (Masked Men #6)

Chapter Two

Kinsley

Leaving the comfort of the cottage had to happen eventually.

As I glance out my bedroom window, eager to feel the sun warming my skin, I’m happy I indulged in some clothes shopping before I left.

Working in the city during the summer, I can still wear pantsuits since I never actually go outside and everywhere is temperature controlled.

I pull on a lightweight white linen midi dress; its elbow-length sleeves and high neckline hide the scars on my arms. The fabric cinches at my waist before fanning out into an A-line skirt that falls to just below my knees.

I buckle the ankle straps on my white leather sandals, then grab my woven straw tote, which is big enough to hold sunscreen and my sketchbook.

Finally, I put on a wide-brimmed straw hat to shade my shoulders from the sun, then tuck sunglasses into the dress’s narrow belt.

Perfect for a June day by the sea, while revealing nothing I’m not ready to show.

Making my way out onto the porch, I breathe in the salty air and feel content. Something I have not experienced in a long time.

An older man waves as I walk out onto the path, and the ocean is right there, ten steps away.

I wave back with a smile that matches his.

With no destination in mind, I walk toward the main street, wanting to see what small-town life is like.

I’m used to the city—a concrete jungle of headlights and sirens stuck on repeat in my skull.

Sidewalks are crammed with strangers who never meet your eye, each footstep counting down to the next appointment.

Everyone is always busy, never stopping to appreciate what is around them.

I reach the main street, which is marked as: The Promenade. They’ve blocked off the road, with street vendors on one side, set up on the grass, and storefront shops on the other.

A neon sign dazzles me with the words: Ebb & Ink. I have always wanted a tattoo, but my mother’s voice rings through my head. Classy women don’t have tattoos . The thought has me moving toward the store.

Pushing through the door, I step into the small room, and the soft sound of music is inviting, making the space feel safe.

“Shore, I swear to fuck, if you are here to annoy me... I don’t want to see how good your dick looks. Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” a gorgeous specimen of a man says as he walks out from the back room.

He’s at least six feet tall and lean, with dark hair that has a slight curl framing his face. He is shirtless, showing off his tattoos. His sleeves are of an ocean—sea creatures, octopus tentacles twisting, a shipwreck, and crashing waves curling around his skin.

Deep hazel eyes meet mine, flecks of gold catching the shop lights. “I thought you were my friend. He discovered underwear this week and likes to show me how good his package looks.”

A laugh escapes me. How I wish I could be so carefree, to be excited over underwear.

“I’m Ripley, but my friends call me Rip,” he says with a lopsided grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rip. I’m Kinsley.”

Normally I would have convinced myself to walk out by now, especially with how young he looks. He barely looks legal with his baby face.

“Before we go any further, I should let you know getting ink here is different. I pick the design, and my customers roll with it. It’s what I’m known for.”

I stare at the man and wonder if I trust him enough to put something on my body that I didn’t pick.

“What if I promise to just do a small quote? You seem like a woman who would like something small and hidden from the world—something only for you.” He smiles wide at me, and I blink again.

“Shit, okay. Let’s do this.”

I’m never impulsive. I always make sure something fits my image, the one my mother created for me after Teddy. But right now, there is nothing stopping me and I can do what I want. I don’t need to let her get her way all the time.

Not even twenty minutes later, I’m lying on his table on my side, a sheet draped over my breasts. My dress is pulled down around my waist while he sets everything up.

He starts up the machine. “So what brings you to town—business or pleasure?”

“I suppose pleasure. I needed a break from the city.”

He laughs lightly. The slight sting of the needle hitting my skin makes me hiss, but it’s nothing overly painful, just unexpected.

“We see a lot of city people come and leave really fast. Small-town life isn’t for them. Our stores close early, so we spend a lot of time with others in the community.”

“Your stores shut early?” I ask, probably sounding like a snob.

“They do. Most shut at around five or six. Some restaurants stay open, but as a whole, the town is closed by six.”

“Wow. I don’t remember what it’s like to finish work that early. Some nights I don’t get home until midnight.”

He stops tattooing and wipes my skin. “I couldn’t imagine spending my entire life working. When do you have time to do anything else? To enjoy life?”

I snort. “Enjoying life is an option? I guess that’s why I’m here. Turning thirty next week has made me put a hold on my life. I want to see what else is out there. And, well, finding out what I want from life is where I start.”

“It’s a good place,” he agrees.

For the rest of the tattoo, we remain silent. It’s nice to not have to fill the void with meaningless chatter. When he is done, he tells me to have a look in the mirror. I try to get up without losing the sheet or my dress and he smirks, turning around when I motion for him to do so.

Sliding off the table, I secure my dress higher while keeping the small sheet across my breasts.

“It’s safe to turn around now,” I say as I walk toward the mirror and smile when I see the words across my ribs, just under my bra line, written in cursive. Love yourself first.

Rip comes to stand behind me.

“I love it,” I whisper, tears forming in my eyes.

“I’m not sure what you’re going through.

Losing yourself is easy. Finding yourself is hard.

But the journey is worth it. I hope you find your light, Kinsley, ” he whispers, and my heart thumps against my ribs as I look up into his eyes in the mirror.

There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motive, and why would there be? He doesn’t know me.

Once he finishes putting a small, clear bandage over the tattoo, he turns around so I can pull my dress up.

“Thank you, Rip. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says as he walks me back out to the front room.

“How much do I owe you?”

He smiles. “No payment required. Sometimes people come into your life for a reason, and I have a feeling we were meant to meet.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. No one does anything for free.

He nods, and his unruly hair flops around his face. “Very. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for in Bluebell.”

The bell on the door chimes, and a young man—about eighteen—flies through the door.

“You need to hide me, Rip. Shore is going to murder me... Oh, hello. You’re new.”

I smile at him. “Hi.”

“Tyde, what did you do this time? I can’t save you from your brother every time you do something stupid.”

“Dad made me take him the crabs this morning. And I may have locked him inside with them—alive.”

Rip snorts. “You know he hates crabs.”

Tyde looks at me. “What sort of seafood cook is afraid of crabs? Mom babies him by pre-cooking them. Can you believe that?”

“Sounds like you have a nice mom. It was wonderful meeting you both.”

I give them a small wave and leave before the angry brother shows up to start a potential brawl in the small store.