Page 79 of Take the Blame (Seaside Mergers #3)

Chapter Forty-Two

AUGUSTUS

Three years prior:

Seaside, Rhode Island, huh?

I had to say, it was a lot nicer than the blazing heat I’d just come from down south.

Distantly, I wondered if I should do the Mid-Atlantic thing for a while and give myself a break from the heat of the south.

I could hear it now, the sounds of the ocean mixing in with the sounds of the bustling market street right outside of my fifth official tattoo shop.

Looking up at the brick building I took in the sign in the window.

Ink and Mar.

Something tugged in my chest then, but I didn’ t know what it meant.

I’d gotten used to the thread of heartbreak that ran throughout my life since my sister ran away.

I’d also gotten used to this sting of helplessness that came with this venture of searching for her in this way.

But rarely did I feel hope. Not this strong at least.

Something about Seaside made me want to hope.

“This is it,” I told myself. Reaching forward I flipped the sign in the door to open.

I didn’t have any employees yet, but I had a few interviews to schedule, and I had more than enough administrative duties to catch up on for my other ventures.

It was time to get busy, I told myself. It was time to find her, the hope in my chest told me too.

Here we go again.

Reaching for the door handle this time, I was just about to get inside and get to work when I heard something behind me. A voice. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha got here?”

Buddy?

Turning, I took in the guy behind me. Some skinny hipster kid with a bunch of sticker tatts he was obviously dying to show off, judging by the fact that it was sixty degrees this morning and he was in a tank.

I immediately got bad vibes from him. Douche vibes. Which is why my eyes narrowed as I turned and squared my shoulders on him. Slipping my hands into my pockets I tipped my chin. “What’s it look like?”

He wrinkled his nose and slipped his eyes up over my new baby like it’s some kind of pest. Then he shrugged… Shrugged! “Looks like a cute little arts and crafts project.”

Yep. Douche.

“Does it now?” I asked.

“Mhmm,” he said. Slipping his hand in his pocket he pulled out a card and passed it to me. Lowering his voice–his very condescending voice–he added, “Let’s see how long it holds up though.”

I scoffed. Wow .

In the few months since I had closed on this place and worked to get to this opening day, the people I’d come to know in Seaside were pretty nice. So I was genuinely surprised this guy was so outwardly douchey. It was almost like he was threatened…

I looked down at his card.

Oh.

As if he was timing it, the douchebag tapped the card as I read it. Tore Tattoo , it said in that traditional tattoo font.

“Come by if you need a job in six months. Your ink is pretty good, but not Seaside’s style,” he said. And then the fucker turned and sauntered away.

I scoffed, my eye catching on a blue SUV with the top down and three heads of hair, two brown one red, whipping in the wind.

Music blared loud as they zoomed by and I could hear their cackles of laughter all the way from the road.

But a second later they were gone and my eyes were slipping back to the card.

I guess I’d just made my first enemy in Seaside.

Fucking Tore.

I fucking hated this place.

The walls, white and bare with no personality or individuality. Hated.

The chairs, thin and aesthetic with little to no cushion that weren’t even actual tattoo chairs. Hated .

The fact that I passed my girl’s car parked on the street outside on the way in this motherfucker. Goddamn fucking hated.

She was somewhere in here. My girl, my world, my Alta.

Somewhere with her skin bare and her first ink about to be some terrible hipster tattoo and worse, it wasn’t even going to be done by me.

Call me possessive but—well, no buts. Because I was possessive and if there was one motherfucker who could not have my girl it was fucking?—

“Tore!” I refrained from yelling but just barely as I burst through his shop—if you could call it that.

“Oh hey, buddy. What can I do you for today?” he asked in that same condescending tone he’d possessed since I met the fucker.

“Where is she?” I got right to the point.

He blinked. “Um, who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” I seethed. “Where’s my girl—she’s about this high, dark hair, big eyes, cute as hell.”

“Oh!” Recognition lit his eyes as soon as I said cute and it made me want to punch him. “Ally, wasn’t it?”

“Alta,” I corrected.

“Yeah.” He nodded as if it was all coming back to him. “I was just about to get started on her, actually.”

I started forward, charging right around the counter. “Great, I’ll just grab her then.”

A hand stopped me in the center of my chest. “Woah, hey. She asked for a solo room. She wanted some privacy for the location she chose. Artists only. Sorry, you know the deal.”

I looked at the hand on my chest, using every bit of strength in me not to rip it off his fucking body. Then simply knocked it aside. “Fuck off, Tore.”

A room?

She was in a private room in this shithole of a tattoo shop and giving away her first tattoo to this prick? I could punch something I was so mad... And jealous.

But it was more than that.

A resignation letter? A literal written decree on how she was leaving when she promised that she wasn’t going anywhere, and now I had to find her here of all places. I know I fucked up and waited too long to come back to her, but this was too much.

No—this was not fucking happening is what it was.

I gave the back room of Tore’s shop three quick raps as I leaned my ear into the door. “Alta, it’s me. I’m coming in.”

“Who?” Someone called out from the other side. It was her voice. Her sweet angelic voice that I’d been missing so damn much. And she didn't recognize me?

I grit my teeth. “It’s Harper, sweetheart.”

A pause. “Oh.”

Oh?

“Don’t come in,” she added quickly.

I frowned. “What the fuck do you mean, don’t come in?”

“I’m about to get my tattoo, Harper. You can’t come in here?—”

Yeah fuck that. I jiggled the door handle, fully prepared for it to be locked, but to my surprise the door opened right away. And there she was…

There she was, sitting alone and fully clothed on the chair in the center of the room. Her legs crossed at the ankle as they swung below her. Her hands clasped primly in her lap as she waited for me with the biggest smile on her face.

The biggest smile?

I stepped into the room, turning my back briefly to close the door. When I turned toward her again, I can’t imagine what kind of look was on my face. Because whatever it was, it caused her to tip her head back and laugh her little ass off.