Playing for Keeps (Heartbreaker Bay #7)(38)

Briefly.

She ran her fingers along her right upper thigh, where she had three scars, each two inches long. Two of them were old and healed, but also invisible thanks to the fact that she’d had them covered by tattoos that read like two equations:

Heart

Mind



And:

Courage

Fear



The last scar wasn’t as old as the others and hadn’t been covered. With the dubious honor of maturity and hitting the ripe old age of twenty-eight last year, she’d arrived at an appreciation and understanding of who she was. And also the new and improved version of herself included not giving a rat’s ass about what anyone thought of her.

Fact was, she just wasn’t that same person anymore. Her remaining scar was a reminder of that, like an ex-smoker who kept a pack of cigarettes somewhere as proof she was stronger than that. It was a badge of honor and a marker place for where she was in her life right now. And as it turned out, memories—the good, the bad, and the ugly—really were what made a person.

Thirty minutes later, she and Lollipop walked into the Pacific Pier Building. Caleb had texted her that he had an unexpected early meeting and wanted to know if she could hold Lollipop until later. Because she still hadn’t convinced her boss at the day spa that Lollipop would make a great emotional support dog, she took her to Willa’s shop and got to work.

Late afternoon, that shift ended and she picked up Lollipop and hit the Canvas Shop to find Rocco and his two other tattoo artists—Mini Moe, a Samoan guy who was possibly the biggest sweetheart Sadie had ever met, and Blue, Moe’s virtual opposite. He was as small and skinny as Moe was big and huge, and he was nowhere close to a sweetheart but perpetually scowling and ticked off at the world.

They were both in the back, hunched over a tray of tacos from Ivy’s truck. The scent of them had Sadie’s mouth watering.

“Saved you two,” Rocco said. “Better hurry before I change my mind and eat ’em all.”

Knowing that wasn’t an idle threat, Sadie grabbed a taco in each hand. “Thanks,” she said and took a huge bite, watching as Rocco dropped to his knees and tried to bribe Lollipop closer with a piece of chicken.

Lollipop’s first move was her usual I don’t trust you growl.

“No, pretty girl, you like me, remember?” Rocco held the meat out, patient in a way he never was with humans.

Lollipop took the chicken—she wasn’t stupid—and then allowed him to pet her.

Sadie looked around for dessert, hoping there was a badly needed sugar rush in her future.

“Used to be you tried to stay away from men and desserts. Now . . .” Rocco gave her a look. “You’ve fallen off the wagon, chica.”

“Thought you learned your lesson,” Blue said over his taco.

“Apparently not.” Mini Moe had opinions too. “Even though she’s on a self-imposed man embargo.”

Working in a shop with alpha men, she’d learned early to hold her own with them and stared them all down to let them know this wasn’t up for discussion. She might be the youngest, but she was for sure the mightiest. “Do not need the peanut gallery’s opinion on this.”

Mini Moe met her gaze, winced, and went back to his tacos. Blue was next and he rolled his eyes, grumbled something about stupid millennials, and went back to eating.

“If you think millennials are stupid,” she said, “then do not ever again ask me to fix the printer or laptop.”

Rocco just shook his head. “I have a point,” he said. “That is that Wes devastated you. I told you what we’d do to the next guy who hurt you. You should know, nothing’s changed there, no matter who he is, rich dude or not.”

Mini Moe nodded.

Blue nodded.

And Sadie blew out a sigh. “Wes didn’t devastate me, the situation did. And that was three years ago. I’m stronger now, and no longer that stupid. No one could get to me like that again.”

“He set you back,” Rocco said stubbornly. “He set you back in your recovery.”

“Momentarily,” she agreed. “But I got a handle on it, I’ve had a handle on it, and I’ve been fine for a long time.”

At his mouth quirk, she smiled. “Okay so ‘fine’ is relative. We all know I’ll never be the world’s definition of fine, but I’m something even better. I’m my version of fine.”

Rocco finally smiled. “Can’t argue with that.” Snagging her around the neck with a beefy arm, he pulled her in for a quick hug.

She hugged him back, knowing he was worried. But she knew she didn’t need his worry. She was fine. And luckily the discussion was now over because her first client of the day walked in.

Cal was a local PI and a repeat customer. He’d been her first client, one of Rocco’s early referrals, and though she worked with mostly women now, she had a fondness for Cal because he’d been her first. They’d become friends over the past few years as she’d worked on his sleeve. Today he was having her work on the American flag low on his hipbone, and as always, once she got started, he began to talk to distract himself from the pain.

Today the topic was his current girlfriend, who he thought might be cheating on him.

“If you think there’s something going on,” she said, “there’s something going on.”