Ink Enduring (Montgomery Ink #5)(77)

Or for someone to turn down the f*cking music in the shop.

“You’re not even working, Maya. Let me have my tunes,” Sloane, another artist, mumbled under his breath. Yeah, he didn’t yell it. Didn’t need to. No one wanted to yell at Austin’s sister. The man might be as big as a house and made of pure muscle, but no one messed with Maya.

Not if they wanted to live.

“I’m sketching, you dumbass,” Maya sniped, even though the smile in her eyes belied her wrath. His sister loved Sloane like a brother. Not that she didn’t have enough brothers and sisters to begin with, but the Montgomerys always had their arms open for strays and spares.

Austin rolled his eyes at the pair’s antics and stood up from his stool, his body aching from being bent over for too long. He refrained from saying that aloud as Maya and Sloane would have a joke for that. He usually preferred to have the other person in bed—or in the kitchen, office, doorway, etc—bent over, but that wasn’t where he would allow his mind to go. As it was, he was too damn old to be sitting in that position for too long, but he wanted to get this sleeve done for his customer.

“Hold on a sec, Rick,” he said to the man in the chair. “Want juice or anything? I’m going to stretch my legs and make sure Maya doesn’t kill Sloane.” He winked as he said it, just in case his client didn’t get the joke.

People could be so touchy when siblings threatened each other with bodily harm even while they smiled as they said it.

“Juice sounds good,” Rick slurred, a sappy smile on his face. “Don’t let Maya kill you.”

Rick blinked his eyes open, the adrenaline running through his system giving him the high that a few patrons got once they were in the chair for a couple hours. To Austin, there was nothing better than having Maya ink his skin—or doing it himself—and letting the needle do its work. He wasn’t a pain junkie, far from it if he was honest with himself, but he liked the adrenaline that led the way into f*cking fantastic art. While some people thought bodies were sacred and tattoos only marred them, he knew it differently. Art on canvas, any canvas, could have the potential to be art worth bleeding for. As such, he was particular as to who laid a needle on his skin. He only let Maya ink him when he couldn’t do it himself. Maya was the same way. Whatever she couldn’t do herself, he did.

They were brother and sister, friends, and co-owners of Montgomery Ink.

He and Maya had opened the shop a decade ago when she’d turned twenty. He probably could have opened it a few years earlier since he was eight years older than Maya, but he’d wanted to wait until she was ready. They were joint owners. It had never been his shop while she worked with him. They both had equal say, although with the way Maya spoke, sometimes her voice seemed louder. His deeper one carried just as much weight, even if he didn’t yell as much.

Barely.

Sure, he wasn’t as loud as Maya, but he got his point across when needed. His voice held control and authority.

He picked up a juice box for Rick from their mini-fridge and turned down the music on his way back. Sloane scowled at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if he held back a laugh.

“Thank God one of you has a brain in his head,” Maya mumbled in the now quieter room. She rolled her eyes as both he and Sloane flipped her off then went back to her sketch. Yeah, she could have gotten up to turn the music down herself, but then she couldn’t have vented her excess energy at the two of them. That was just how his sister worked, and there would be no changing that.

He went back to his station situated in the back so he had the corner space, handed Rick his juice, then rubbed his back. Damn, he was getting old. Thirty-eight wasn’t that far up there on the scales, but ever since he’d gotten back from New Orleans, he hadn’t been able to shake the weight of something off of his chest.

He needed to be honest. He’d started feeling this way since before New Orleans. He’d gone down to the city to visit his cousin Shep and try to get out of his funk. He’d broken up with Shannon right before then; however, in reality, it wasn’t as much a breakup as a lack of connection and communication. They hadn’t cared about each other enough to move on to the next level, and as sad as that was, he was fine with it. If he couldn’t get up the energy to pursue a woman beyond a couple of weeks or months of heat, then he knew he was the problem. He just didn’t know the solution. Shannon hadn’t been the first woman who had ended the relationship in that fashion. There’d been Brenda, Sandrine, and another one named Maggie.

He’d cared for all of them at the time. He wasn’t a complete *, but he’d known deep down that they weren’t going to be with him forever, and they thought the same of him. He also knew that it was time to actually find a woman to settle down with. If he wanted a future, a family, he was running out of time.

Going to New Orleans hadn’t worked out in the least considering, at the time, Shep was falling in love with a pretty blonde named Shea. Not that Austin begrudged the man that. Shep had been his best friend growing up, closer to him than his four brothers and three sisters. It’d helped that he and Shep were the same age while the next of his siblings, the twins Storm and Wes, were four years younger.

His parents had taken their time to have eight kids, meaning he was a full fifteen years older than the baby, Miranda, but he hadn’t cared. The eight of them, most of his cousins, and a few strays were as close as ever. He’d helped raise the youngest ones as an older brother but had never felt like he had to. His parents, Marie and Harry, loved each of their kids equally and had put their whole beings into their roles as parents. Every single concert, game, ceremony, or even parent-teacher meeting was attended by at least one of them. On the good days, the ones where Dad could get off work and Mom had the day off from Montgomery Inc., they both would attend. They loved their kids.