Page 15 of Three Reasons

I know he’s right. Rocky and his partner, Josh, have been the only male companions I’ve had in far too long, and they’ve been trying to set me up on dates for over a year now.

“Okay, fine, I won’t cancel.” He grins. “No marriage, though.” His eyes roll again. “Keep doing that, and I’m taking away that new ink pen I got you,” I scold, and he turns serious.

“No way! It was a gift.” He pouts at me while trying and failing to glare.

My turn to roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t, but one day, it just might disappear.” I walk away. Rocky’s mouth is agape, and he’s nearly ready to run for it—I see it in his shifting eyes before he huffs and returns to work.

We spend the rest of the afternoon working our appointments and cleaning up the shop in between before he sends me home to get dressed and ready for tonight. I have no idea what I’m going to wear.

Returning to the shop, I still have one more client who needs a tattoo polished up after being in an accident. He required stitches that went through the art I’d done over a year prior.

“Alright, Slik, you ready to get this over with?” I smile at him and his buddy as I sit down. For a man in his late forties with more tattooed skin than not, he’s not a fan of the pain that comes with getting ink.

“As I’ll ever be, mama.” He grins when I shoot him a glare. He’s been a client of mine since I opened the shop. I’ve worked on him and his friends hundreds of times, and all of them call me mama and refuse to stop.

“Buckle up then, buddy, because we’re going fast and dirty.” I throw him a wink and get to work. He hisses and whimpers, balls up his fist, and as we hit the finishing touches, the bell above the door jingles. “Be with you in a minute,” I call out.

Rocky left shortly after I arrived to do some last-minute Christmas shopping for Josh, or he’d take care of whoever is here.

“That’s really tacky, Grace.” I freeze when I recognize my oldest sister, Margo’s, voice, and I know her comment is about the pink couch. Slik and his friend give me a questioning glance. I shake my head so they don’t ask. I have no doubt they’d give her a piece of their minds if they knew who she was.

“God, is it even clean in here?” I glance up from my work to see her eyeing my client and his friend, implying they aren’t clean, and my anger rises.

Margo’s ‘I’m better than you’ attitude is palpable, and I know Slik won’t remain silent much longer if I don’t get her in check. “Why don’t you have a seat and read a magazine or something?” My annoyance can’t be mistaken. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes.” Thankfully, she takes my cue, sits down, and shuts up until I’m finished with Slik, and they’re on their way.

Of course, he wouldn’t accept my offering of the work being on the house and left me a coupleof hundred-dollar bills by the register. That’s what I love about bikers. They’re badasses with a heart of gold. The ones I’ve met, anyway—even the men from the Saint’s Outlaws MC who arrived in town a few years ago.

“What do you want, Margo?” I don’t need to see the disdain in her eyes, so I begin cleaning up.

“Daddy really wants you home for the holidays,” she says, her voice syrupy-sweet like she also wants me there. I know they don’t. Her, especially.

“Margo, I’ve already said no several times. What is the big deal? Why are you guys so insistent this year?” They’ve never pushed for me to come home in the five years since I left.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Why won’t you just come home, Grace? Christmas is in three days, and we want you there.” I hate itwhen she whines. Six years older than me, and she still acts like the spoiled brat she was during our childhood.

“Why?” I repeat. I’m like a broken record at this point. There’s a reason, an important one, or she wouldn’t be here. Likely one of our dad’s clients wishing for the whole happy-apple family crap.

“Must there be a reason?” she huffs, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

I’m amused at the way she tries to leverage emotion against me when her lip begins to tremble. “You always were a good actress,” I reply. The feelings don’t meet her eyes, though. “There’s a reason, Margo, and your refusing to tell me what it is only confirms it won’t benefit me to show up.”

Her glare intensifies.

Breathing out, I hang onto my temper. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s been years since they’ve been able to use me like a puppet. You know it; they know it. They wouldn’t be this insistent if it weren’t for a damn good reason.” She doesn’t disagree. “It’s not Pappy because he’d tell me himself, so fucking spill it already or leave, I’ve got shit to do tonight, and I’m not waiting on you to pussyfoot around about this bullshit.”

“You could at least try to act like a lady, Grace. No man is going to want you with that filthy mouth.” Her stalling and insults only piss me off further.

I explode before I implode. “For fuck’s sake, Margo, speak or get the hell out!”

The front door opens at my tirade, and of course, it’s my men walking into the shop.

Wait, my-? When did that happen?I don’t get a second to wrap my head around it before she cuts me down.

“Stop being such a snobby bitch, Grace, and come home. We all know you’re failing here. It’s been long enough with this rebelling now. You have responsibilities to the family, and it’s time you accept it. You’re a disappointment out here. Enough is enough.” Her hands ball into fists as her face reddens with anger.

I’m not sure what part of her tirade pisses me off more. That I’m a snob, I’m failing, or that she’s confirmed I’m the family disappointment in front of the only two men I’ve genuinely been attracted to.

What a great fucking time to be me.

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