Page 21 of I Blame the Alcohol

Her blue eyes darken as she meets my glare in equally narrow slits, “Whatever helps you sleep at nightCaveman.”

Ah, the famous nickname. Wes and his girlfriend sure got a kick out of that one.

I open my mouth to respond when Stella reaches down to grab her water bottle. The retort quickly dies on my tongue as her tank top rides up and I get a clear shot of her left side.

“Is that a tattoo?” The question leaves my lips in shock, partly from the realization that I have never seen Stella’s torso, but also because I never pinned Mo’s younger sister for the type to get a tattoo.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me being stereotypical, it’s simply an observation. When it comes to gym rats there seem to be two types of people: those who see their body as a masterpiece and want to use intricate pieces of ink to display it, or those who see their body as a piece of art already and wouldn’t want to cover up a single inch.

Two very different mentalities, yet both run on the same vain theme.

And that’s not to say you can’t be both, it’s just most people who have tattoos like to show them off. And until today, I had no idea Stella might be hiding ink under her signature gym fits.

It soon becomes clear my question was not a welcome one when Stella’s demeanour freezes over and she quickly tugs the ends of her top down.

“Yes, I do.” Her words are clipped, making it obvious the topic is not open for discussion.

The shock must not have worn off, or maybe I’m still hungover from Tuesday, because for some reason, my mouth decides it’s a good idea to pursue this conversation further.

“What is it?”

Stella levels me with a glare that could make a nation crumble to its knees. Normally, I would back off by this point, but curiosity pushes me to make another, arguably stupider inquiry, “Can I see it?”

“It’s a word and no you can’t.” She gives me a tight nod and goes to brush past me. I grab her arm before she can make it beyond my reach.

“Hey, look at me.” Reluctantly turning her head in my direction, Stella meets my gaze with a worn expression.

“I shouldn’t have pried, I’m sorry.”

Stella sighs with a slight shake of her head, “I got the tattoo after my mother died. It’s just not something I like talking about.”

I exhale heavily, immediately regretting my curiosity. I knew the O’Brien’s lost their mother a couple years ago, Mo mentioned it on a few occasions. From what I can remember, it was a drunk driver who ran their mother off the road. Mo had just started university when it happened, so Stella must have been a teenager.

Gently removing my fingers from her arm, I take a step forward and wrap her into a hug. She stiffens then relaxes as I pull Stella’s strong frame close to mine.

“Promise I won’t be so careless next time.” I whisper the words against the top of her head, the scent of her post-workout sweat filling my senses.

“Whatever, I’ve gotten used to your stupidity by now.” Stella gives me a reassuring pat and pulls away with a smile that I know means trouble, “But I do have an idea of how you can make it up to me.”

That’s never a good sign.

Chapter 7

Stella

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

“I’d rather be a chicken than wearthat.” The look of horror flashing in Cody’s eyes has me biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

“You can’t go two-stepping without a cowboy hat. That ruins half the fun.” I wave the offensive object between us, but Cody’s defensive stance doesn’t move an inch.

“Two-stepping itself is bad enough. Hat hair will only make it worse.”

I roll my eyes, “That’s why you keep the hat on, so no one sees the disaster underneath.”

You would think this man grew up in a big city, not the agriculture centre of Alberta.

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