“Now who’s acting like the little brother,” Murphy sneered. “Get your head out of your ass and apologize to her when you see her next. Because you know what? Not only is Owen right in the fact that this job means something, but you’re better than this.”
Graham sighed and ran his hand over his face. He needed that cigarette, beer, and woman again. Only when he thought of the woman, she saw Blake, and he held back a growl.
“She reminded me of someone, and I took it out on her.” He grunted. “I’ll apologize.”
“Damn straight you will,” Owen said as he stormed back in. “She’s gone, by the way. So maybe call her and leave a message to say how much of an asshole you are. Because there’s no way she’s coming back here, though I don’t know if that’s all because of you. And who the hell does she remind you of?” As soon as he said it, he closed his eyes and cursed.
Graham sighed. “Yeah. Her.” They all knew whom he was talking about.
“Jesus, this month is going to suck,” Murphy whispered under his breath.
Murphy wasn’t wrong. And yeah, Graham was an asshole. Because no matter whom Blake was, she wasn’t his ex-wife, and he needed to get that through his head. What made matters worse—he hadn’t minded the fact that Candice was a trust fund baby when they were married.
It was only when their world had crashed down around him that it had become an issue.
An issue he would do anything to forget.
But nightmares never faded, and Graham knew that better than anyone.
2
Even twenty-four hours after stepping onto the grounds she’d never wanted to see again, Blake Brennen wanted to punch the smug smile off that annoyingly hot, bearded man’s face. Usually, assholes took a minute or two to show their true colors, and yet, this Graham Gallagher didn’t even bother to wait that long.
It could be that she was a magnet for those idiots, but she’d like to think it wasn’t her; instead, those guys were assholes to everyone they met. Or in her case, asses before they’d even spoken one word to her, considering Graham had already formed an opinion—a completely incorrect one—about her when she hadn’t even been in the freaking room.
Whatever. She sighed. She wouldn’t have to see him or his glare again because she wouldn’t be stepping one foot onto that property again. Good radiance to bad memories, bad tastes, broken dreams, and broken foundations. And if she had to speak to a Gallagher about something to do with the estate, it would be with the pleasant Owen.
He wasn’t an asshole.
At least, not to her face.
“Are you going to sit there and wallow, or are you going to actually work today?” Maya Montgomery asked as she leaned a hip against the side of Blake’s temporary station. The other woman’s brow rose, the tiny metal hoop glittering under the overhead lights. “I mean, you’re welcome to wallow before your first piercing appointment of the day, or you can take that walk-in standing at the front, who wants a tiny butterfly outline on her hip. I thought you wanted to make money, but if you don’t, no skin off my back.”
Blake snorted and stood up so she could stretch her lower back. “You’re getting moody, Maya,” she said with a smile. “Must be the pregnancy hormones.”
Maya flipped her off before running a hand over her still flat belly. “I’m not that far along, you know. The hormones don’t start kicking in until later.”
Blake just smiled and shook her head. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself at night so you can make it through the day, more power to you.”
Maya tilted her head, studying the other woman. Maya always had an uncanny knack for seeing beyond the layers Blake wore to protect herself. And that was something Blake needed to be cautious of. “Why? Do you know something about it?”
Blake shrugged, keeping her attention on her sketchbook in front of her as she gathered her things to go deal with the walk-in. “I watch TV. I know things.” Not quite a lie, but as she didn’t know Maya or the rest of Montgomery Ink all that well yet, some things were better tucked close to the vest.
She’d learned the hard way before what happened when she was too open, too fast. Money spoke, and people betrayed with the drop of a hat, leaving Blake the one in pain, bleeding on the floor.
She shook off the memories and worries that had no place in this particular shop and rolled her shoulders.
“So, she wants an outline of a butterfly, not the whole thing filled in?” Blake asked, changing the subject. From the look in Maya’s eyes, she hadn’t done a very good job being subtle about it, but there was nothing she could do now.
“Just the outline,” Maya answered. “From where she wants it and the size she indicated with her hand, I think that’s the right idea anyway. But ask her just in case.”