Page 82 of Yours Truly

“She helps me even when she doesn’t realize it, you know? She’s one of those souls where life is easier when she’s in the room. When I’m on the brink of doing something stupid, she nudges me away. If I’m being an asshole, she'll give me a look and without scolding me, I’ll realize what I’m doing. She never makes me feel bad, ever. And she’s taught me so many new things. Small things when you think about it, like trying new foods and giving things a chance. But all of those things add up to a much more fulfilling life. I used to think I was too big for Bluebell, but she’s shown me that there’s so many layers here, and my mind was too small to see it. Now I see Bluebell is the perfect place for us. And she showed me that without judgment.”

The rest of their conversation becomes a soft hum, like an air conditioner running in the background, or a ceiling fan spinning. I tune it out but still hear it, and lose myself in my own thoughts as I focus on shading the design.

I was a prick to Ivy. And when I was, she gave it right back to me. But not without a lesson. She saved my ass that night when those girls planned to rob Ink Time. That would’ve done some serious damage to my relationship with Deuce, not to mention, how could I work here every day as the guy who got the place robbed? And she did all of that on the heels of me purposely trying to hurt her—after we had a good day together. All because my feelings were hurt. And why? Because I didn’t communicate my feelings to her.

She is helping me stay off the booze without rubbing my nose in the fact that I have a problem. And when it comes to the lifestyle I was leading before—she knows. She knows I’ve been sleeping around for years, and she doesn’t remind me of it every free chance she gets. She doesn’t compare herself to those women and make me tell her she’s better. With Ivy, the past is in the past. She’s so sure and confident, in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s refreshing and bold, and when I’m with her, I’m the best version of myself because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to be.

And the sex.

Fuuuuuck. I never thought I’d get on my knees for anything. In my past life, I was the man people swooned over. Waited in line to see. Asked to take photos with. Begged to fuck.

Something about being told how to please her all while pleasing myself is heady and addicting. The way she seamlessly controls my cock without effort is damn drunkening.

And every time I go down this road, whether it’s over a cup of coffee or on the drive home, I always want to come to the same conclusion.

I want to start a real life here, with her.

My mind hasn’t veered from that conclusion in weeks, and if anything, the need to get her off the market and officially make her mine has only grown, like wildflowers between concrete.

Another hour and Kenny’s tattoo is finished. Ivy prepares his aftercare kit and hands him the mirror, pointing out the tiny spot where we paid homage to his mom.

He praises me over and over, and despite the fact I did the work, I share the praise with Ivy, because I know Kenny wouldn’t like it as much without that little Easter egg.

After he pays and we stand around in the lobby, making small talk with Connor, he takes off. I find Ivy in my space, sanitizing my station. Her ass is fire in those little jean shorts with the torn tights underneath. And when I see the silver handle of a knife poking up from her boot, my cock thickens.

“Hey,” I say, slipping in behind her, grabbing a towel to help her clean. She pauses, peering at me over the tray of supplies.

“I got this, you don’t have to help,” she says, smiling.

“Yeah, I do,” I say, swiping over a patch of cleaner. “I shouldn’t have let you do so much. I’m sorry about that.”

She pauses her cleaning and says, “Deuce made it clear that the apprentice helps the mentor.” She lifts the rag. “This is helping, don’t go feeling guilty just because I’ve seen your come face.”

Laughing, I shake my head, my ribs tightening. “I like your sense of humor, have I told you that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. It’s awesome.”

“Mmmhmm.” I smirk, still looking at her out of the corner of my eye. “So, how long have you known Kenny and his girlfriend?”

“Forever,” she sighs. “I went to high school with Kenny. I think he’s between my and Juniper’s age, but I can’t remember. His girlfriend, Addie, is my age, though.”

A knot rises in my throat. I’ve never been good at saying the important shit but with a woman like Ivy, it would be a crime to be dishonest. Truly. “You know all that stuff he was saying about his girl?”

She presses her hand to her chest as she stands. “So sweet.”

I stand too and we toss our rags away. “He described you, you know.”

She swallows and it’s so quiet between us, I hear it. I step toward her, taking her elbows into my hands, drawing out her arms, linking our fingers together. “Yeah?”

I don’t care that Connor is laying a stencil for a bald eagle not more than ten feet away. That we’re on camera. That she and I haven’t discussed “us.” That Deuce is here and Sandi, at reception, is probably watching us.

Don’t care about any of that.

“Ivy, all those things he said, the way his girl makes him feel,” I start.

“Addie,” she says nervously, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her nervous. I glance at her lips, painted in black lipstick, and my chest squeezes.

“Don’t care what her name is,” I admit, my voice thinning with desire. “Ivy, I would be a fucking moron if I didn’t notice all the ways you make me a better man. And even stupider if I couldn’t see what a fucking catch you are.”

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