Page 8 of Take the Blame (Seaside Mergers #3)

Chapter Five

ALTA

I paced the length of Market Street in a mad rage.

Okay, that was an exaggeration.

I paced the length of Market Street in sort of a rage.

But instead of stomping my feet and throwing a fit, I wrung my hands and pushed agitated fingers through my hair.

I’d been so mean today, and not only to my sister who I had complicated feelings about, but to Ox and Grace and even Jack Tucker too.

Jack Tucker was a kumquat, but I should’ve been more in control of my emotions.

I shouldn’t have been so close to tears.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve is what they say. I should do a lot of things that I don’t. And now look at me, the loser again.

Market Street was a row of quaint shopping boutiques along the outskirts of the most popular beach in town.

The air around here smelled like sea and tasted like salt and was crisper close to the water.

It was early October, and we were still experiencing periodic warmer days, but today there was no sun.

No sun and lots of sea meant I was borderline freezing as I paced the street because I’d stupidly forgotten my jacket back at the office.

With a shiver that racked my entire spine, I stopped in front of the wide bark of a tall sidewalk tree rooted in a mound of mulch. A deep breath pushed past my lungs as I looked at it.

And looked.

And looked. No action, because I never took action when I was upset. Which was the whole problem entirely. If I could just be honest about when I was unhappy about something, half of my problems would disappear.

Looking at the bark of the tree, a sinister thought passed through my head.

I could just kick it.

Yes, I knew I was compensating for what I really should have done earlier, which was stand up for myself in the office, but I had already dropped the ball there so all that was left now was me and this tree.

I hesitated. I know it was just a tree, but I still felt guilty, which delayed my actions. The other day with the plant-strangling had been a crime of passion, this would be one of deliberate intent. Malintent . And I wasn’t a malicious person.

But I could be. I could be bad if I wanted to. Maybe that’s what I needed. To show myself I could be tough before I showed it to others.

“Kick it, Alta,” I hissed to myself.

But the tree didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I?

“Kick the tree, Alta Carmina Fernandez. Kick it ,” I reprimanded again .

But what if I truly hurt it? I still felt bad about the poor plant. It would be wrong of me to do this twice.

“For the love of God, Alta. It’s a tree!” I growled, frustrated. Pulling my leg back I geared up to do the deed. To kick the tree. But a second later, I froze.

“Ma’am,” a deep voice said from close behind me. “Step away from the tree.”

For the love of God . How was he here again?

I didn’t move. I didn’t even set my foot down on the ground. I just bared my teeth behind my lips, effectively intimidating no one. Not even myself.

Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’m almost certain this is about how I can help the poor plants on this block,” he said easily. “Now, listen killer. I don’t know what's been going on with you lately, but you can’t keep taking it out on the botanical ambiance.”

“I’m angry,” I said honestly. Why I was always so honest with him when I couldn’t even say my feelings to my sister, I had no idea.

A scoff hit my ears, Harper’s tone incredulous. “I can tell.”

My confession continued. “No, I’m very angry and I need to take it out on something.”

“Fine,” he said, and for a second, I thought he was giving me permission to kick the tree.

And curiously, for that second I actually thought that I could do it.

But a moment later, the view of the rugged bark disappeared behind the appearance of broad shoulders, tattooed skin, and those brown, brown eyes.

Taking up a casual stance, he leaned back against the tree he was trying to protect, and shrugged, “Take it out on me, then.”

“What?” I squeaked. I must have heard something wrong. Blinking at him, I asked. “You want me to assault you?”

He tilted his chin. “Not exactly, but if you’re looking for something to take your shit out on, leave the tree alone. ”

“And take it out on you?”

“Yes.” I watched him for a moment, my eyes going directly to his brown lips for a second for God knows what reason before I ripped them back up to his eyes. He smirked, adding, “I promise I can take it.”

It might have been the strange heat his gaze suddenly possessed or the declaration that he’d take my wrath, but somehow his offer seemed brazen, my body heating at the possibility of it.

Not the angry kind of heat, either.

Actually, all the anger had already dissipated from me, leaving me in a state of frustrated dumbfoundedness as I looked at him blocking the tree. Defending a tree…

Lowering my leg back to the ground, I crossed my arms over my chest and I looked away. This was ridiculous .

“I couldn’t hurt you,” I said.

“Why not?” he asked. And it was such a strange question that I found my gaze back on him.

“Because it’d be wrong.”

He nodded, though it didn’t seem like he was agreeing exactly. “I thought you said you weren’t a saint, Alta.”

“Yeah, I’m not a psycho either.”

He hummed, a corner of his mouth raising as if he couldn’t contain it. “Could’ve fooled me.”

My eye twitched. But despite being annoyed at him basically calling me crazy, I also wasn’t going to sit here and argue the right to kick him. I’d never do that to a person, I couldn’t even do it to a tree.

“I’m not hitting you, Harper. You can forget about it,” I said, the shortening of his name just slipping out with my denial. I sometimes did it in my head but never used it so informally out loud before.

He nodded, seeing the reason in that, at least. But apparently that didn’t matter judging by his next words. “You know, hurting me isn’t the only way to use me, right?”

What?

My throat went so dry as I blinked at him rapidly.

Suddenly, I was assaulted with the sight of his muscled biceps, and broad chest, and the image of what his abs might look like underneath his shirt.

This wasn’t the first time I’d noticed his size, tall and broad, his legs thick like he worked them out religiously.

And don’t even get me started on that face…

I snapped myself out of it with a startled cough as I took a massive step back. I doubt any of that had a thing to do with what he meant by… whatever he’d just said.

Nope.

No way, José .

Looking up to his face again, I caught him raising an eyebrow. “Okay there, Boss?”

“Fine, thanks.” I straightened my shoulders, my voice coming out hoarse.

Standing in front of me, he ran his eyes along the contours of my face.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Well, if you’re done with your crazy for the day, you wanna come inside?”

I looked around at the dead street. “I’m still early.”

“Yeah, but it’s freezing out today,” he said. “C’mon, no one has any appointments. You can get your shit together before anyone else shows up.”

He pushed off the tree and held out an arm in the direction of the shop, waiting for me to turn in that direction too.

From the corner of my eye, I took him in as we walked.

For the first time since he showed up, I realized he wasn’t wearing a jacket either.

And he had one glove on, as if he’d been in the middle of working on something when he came out here. Had he been busy?

In a soft, embarrassed voice, I asked. “You saw me out here? ”

He looked down his shoulder at me. “Yeah.”

I contemplated this, wondering what he was doing when he saw me. What he was thinking. “What’d you see?”

He opened the door to the shop and looked at me pointedly as if to say, go in . But his voice was soft as he said. “I saw a girl I know having a bad day. Now c’mon, Boss. We got tea and shit inside to warm you up.”

Blinking, I tried to fight the sting of my eyes as I stepped inside. I had no idea how early I was for our appointment, but when I came into the shop I saw no one else was there. Every station was empty, and the lights were off except for the one directly over Harper’s chair.

When he shut the door behind us, he locked it and then immediately went toward his station removing his one glove as he walked.

All around it, there were the normal signs of a recently used station.

Like a moth to flame, he gravitated toward it.

Quickly starting to pick up his mess. “Break room’s in the back.

Tea or coffee’s in the cabinet if you don’t want to wait. I just gotta wipe down real quick.”

“I can wait,” I said as I watched him meticulously clean the tubes and nozzles attached to his machine, returning the different tools to their designated areas as he went. He must have just gotten done with a client when he spotted me. “I thought you said there were no appointments.”

For a guy who was tattooed almost everywhere, his hands were mostly bare.

The only visible ink I could spy was a short phrase written along the outside of his thumb, going down his wrist. I couldn’t make out the words from back here and I wasn’t about to give up my position a safe distance away to see it better.

“Yeah, well,” he said as he changed his gloves and started in on cleaning the chair. “Had a regular ask if I could squeeze them in, so I did. We were slow and I’m always here anyway, so I took her.”

My brain halted for the briefest of seconds, sticking on a particular word .

Her .

Blinking around the room, I noted for the second time how dark it was. Is this how he’d tattooed her? In the dim lighting of the vacant shop? With no one around to interrupt. Could tattooing be a romantic experience?

Did I care?

“What’d she get?” I asked. Apparently I did care, since I also wanted to ask, ‘and where?’