Even though my parents and her husband didn’t love that Poppy still stayed in touch with me, it was her one act of defiance and we talked whenever she could get away with it. I had questions—a lot of them. I wanted answers and it was impossible to get them from Rowdy, considering he was about as welcoming as a concrete wall. There was more to their falling-out than the simple “he wanted different things than I did and it meant we couldn’t even be friends anymore” that Poppy had initially given to me when everything broke loose all those years ago. Something major must have occurred for Rowdy to be so adamant that he didn’t even want the slightest info on my sister. She was supposedly his first love and Poppy normally told me everything there was to tell, so all the subterfuge between the two of them had me extra curious.
My sister was not what one would call lucky in love. She was too eager to please, both the men in her life and my father. That led to her dating and ending up in relationships with some real gems. I don’t think she would know the real deal in love if it bit her on the nose, and that was one of the reasons I tried to keep tabs on her and was worried she hadn’t called me back. Her husband was a real piece of work. Oliver Martinez was a bossy and menacing carbon copy of my dad and that made me really nervous. Poppy wasn’t strong enough to walk away or willful enough to stand up for herself if a man in her life was trying to control her.
I ordered a floofy coffee drink and a brownie because they looked good, and tried to wring some water out of my long hair. I was shuffling back to the door, my eyes down as I put the brownie in my purse, and I didn’t see the woman I almost plowed down until it was too late. I barely caught her around her wrist as she bounced off of me and the collision sent her phone flying to the floor.
We both gasped and I stammered out an apology because even though my coffee hadn’t spilled everywhere it still sloshed a little from the violence of the impact and got on the back of both of our hands.
The woman waved me off and bent to retrieve her phone as I rushed to apologize again and again. I was even more apologetic when I noticed it was the same elegant, blond woman from the other day in the shop.
She was wearing another sharp suit and her hair was pulled up in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were wide as she recognized me.
“Sorry. I was reading e-mail on my phone and not paying any attention.”
I snorted a little and flicked my hand to shake the cooling liquid off the back of it.
“I was juggling a hundred things and my mind was a million miles away. I have a few minutes before I have to head back to the shop; let me buy you your coffee to apologize.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, really. I should have been paying attention.”
I just ignored her and turned and walked to the line hoping she would follow me. She did, still telling me the gesture was unnecessary, but by the time it was our turn to order she had quieted down and I wasn’t surprised that she got a simple black coffee and didn’t add anything to it. This woman really seemed to be absolutely no frills and no nonsense, which again had me wondering why she had ventured into the tattoo shop in the first place.
“I’m Salem Cruz, by the way.” I stuck my hand out and she shook it briskly.
“Sayer Cole. I actually work at the family law building that’s a couple of blocks over.”
I nodded and grinned a little. “You would be surprised how many lawyers are running around with tattoos nowadays. I sure hope it wasn’t your job that convinced you to forgo getting some ink.”
She balked a little and turned a hot shade of pink. “No. I’m actually pretty new to Denver and was just out exploring.” She cleared her throat as we made our way back to the door. I was relieved to see the rain had let up some. “I stuck my head in on a whim. I’m not really sure what I was thinking.”
She looked away from me as soon as she said it and I had the distinct feeling she wasn’t exactly being honest with me.
“I’m new to the city, too. So far I love it here. Where did you move from?”
“Seattle. I spent my whole life there. I needed a change.”
I could relate. She asked me where I was from and I just laughed and told her all over. When she asked what had brought me to the Mile High City I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and asked, “Are you going to think I’m ridiculous if I tell you it has to do with a guy?”
She shrugged a little and we stopped at the corner of the block. Her gaze darted away and again I got the really strong impression that she was only telling me half of what she meant. “No. I’m sort of here for a guy, too. Not in the romantic sense but a certain guy was definitely a motivating factor in why I accepted this transfer when my company decided they wanted to open an office in Denver.” She inclined her head in the opposite direction of the way I had to take to return to work and told me with genuine kindness lacing her tone, “I hope it works out for you.”
I laughed. “I’m pretty persistent. If you change your mind about adding a little rock to your roll, come back by the shop. Those boys are doing some really spectacular work.”
Her gaze drifted over the expanse of my tattooed arms. “I never realized how beautiful it could be, or how much art was really involved in tattooing.”
“If it’s done right it is as beautiful as anything painted on a canvas and it’s the one kind of art you really can share with the world wherever you go.”
The lights changed, and as we headed off in opposite directions I wondered about the polished young woman who seemed to have a lot of secrets. I silently hoped whatever had brought her to Denver worked itself out as well. Secrets or not, she seemed really nice.
I pushed open the doors of the shop and had to wind my way through the people cluttering up the waiting area to get behind the desk. Cora was talking to two girls that were showing her pictures and the buzz of tattoo machines was steady in the background. Nash caught my eye and inclined his head at me. I stashed my purse after rescuing the brownie so I had it on hand for later and asked him what was up.
He rubbed his hands over his shaved head and I wondered how often Saint did the same thing to him. Those flames he had tattooed along each side of his scalp were bright and fun. If he was my guy I would have my hands all over them every chance I got. His purplish eyes flashed at me with a mixture of good-natured humor and aggravation.