Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy Series Book 2)

“How long are we going to avoid the huge elephant in the room?”

After nearly two hours in Samantha’s suite having brunch and now getting their hair and makeup done for the upcoming ceremony, Katrina wasn’t at all shocked when Tara finally alluded to last night’s confrontation at Coyote Ugly between her and Mason. She was surprised, however, that it had taken her direct and outspoken friend this long to say something.

Katrina suspected Tara had held back out of respect for Samantha and making sure the bride-to-be was the center of attention for the first few hours. But now that they were all sitting in a semicircle in the suite’s living room, with three hair stylists working on their elegant updos, Tara was obviously ready to push for answers.

“I’m dying to know what happened after the two of you left!” Samantha chimed in, her eyes bright and eager for details. “I can’t believe he actually threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of the place like that.”

Both women looked amused over Mason’s actions, and Katrina tried to keep the story as light as possible without going into those nitty-gritty and dirty details of how that confrontation had ended. “He thought I was drunk and he was trying to save me from myself.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

Tara snickered, her eyes sparkling with obvious humor. “It didn’t appear that way from what Levi and I saw. Mason looked like he was clearly staking a claim on you so none of those other men crowded around the bar had a chance.”

“I have to agree,” Samantha said as her stylist began pinning all her loose curls into an intricate design at the nape of her neck. “Why do you think Clay tried to step in?”

“Because his brother is a jerk-off?” Katrina suggested sarcastically, causing her own stylist to laugh softly from behind her.

“Mason isn’t that bad,” Samantha said, defending her soon-to-be brother-in-law, clearly having developed a soft spot for him. “I just think that he’s very attracted to you, despite you two being friends, and he’s frustrated because he wants something that he knows he shouldn’t touch. But he doesn’t want anyone else to touch you, either.”

Oh, Mason had touched her plenty last night, in ways that made her face warm when she thought about just how skillful those fingers of his were as they’d gripped her hair and slid down between her thighs . . .

“Oh, my God, you’re blushing,” Tara said, calling her out, her tone almost gleeful. “Did you and Mason do the dirty last night?”

Much to her dismay, the flush on her cheeks heated even more. “No!” The last thing she wanted was her tryst with Mason becoming common knowledge when it would never happen again. And she definitely didn’t want to be known as one of his many conquests, which would put an additional strain on their friendship.

“I think thou protest too much,” Tara teased, much too accurately.

“Leave her alone, Tara,” Samantha said gently, her gaze so sweet and kind and understanding. “Whatever happened between Katrina and Mason really isn’t any of our business unless she wants it to be.”

Katrina smiled at Samantha, grateful for her refined upbringing and how aware and considerate she was of Katrina’s discomfort. Samantha might not live in her parent’s mansion any longer, or even spend much time with them in her old upper-class social circle, but Clay’s bride-to-be still maintained those courteous manners that were such an ingrained part of her. Which was what made her so likeable.

“So, how did you and Mason meet?” Samantha asked instead, easily steering the conversation away from last night’s activities. “Clay said something about the two of you being friends since your freshman year in high school.”

“We did meet our freshman year,” Katrina replied, preferring this topic to the other one. “We didn’t have any classes together, and I didn’t know who he was until he came to my rescue one day when I was walking home from school and three older boys started bullying me.”

Samantha’s eyes grew round. “What happened?”

Recalling the day, even though it was over twelve years ago, came easily. It had been the second week of school, the temperatures soaring into the high nineties, and she’d worn a zip-up jacket to hide the cuts she’d recently made along her arm. Some had been scarred over, and some had been fresh wounds, but she’d been self-conscious enough that she’d always worn something with long sleeves, despite the weather. She’d lived in an apartment with her mother and Owen in a not-so-great neighborhood, where the kids were ruthless and mean and never missed an opportunity to torment someone they perceived as weaker than them.

That afternoon, she’d been their target, and an easy one at that. She’d been walking home all alone after school and taken a shortcut through the park. But as the three boys approached her, then circled around her and started making cruel comments about how stupid she looked in a jacket considering the heat, Katrina had known the situation wouldn’t end well. When she hadn’t responded to their nasty taunts, they’d knocked her backpack off her shoulder to the ground, and while one of the boys held her arms back, the other had two unzipped the jacket and pulled it off.

She’d been wearing a tank top beneath, but Katrina shivered as she remembered how exposed and vulnerable she’d felt, and how afraid. Especially when the older boy had started looking at her in that way she’d come to recognize from her stepfather. As the boy had stepped toward her, the sickening feeling swirling in her stomach had escalated, and tears had burned the backs of her eyes. She’d wanted to run, but couldn’t since all three of them were surrounding her, leaving her no easy escape.

“Leave her alone,” she heard some other male voice shout out.

The leader of the gang glared at someone over Katrina’s shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m about to be your worst nightmare,” the other kid replied confidently as he finally came into Katrina’s view. “Give her back the jacket.”

The creep in front of her jutted his chin out belligerently. “Fuck you, man.”

Her savior was tall and lanky, and even though he looked younger than the other guys, he was clearly unafraid as he closed the distance between himself and the other boy. Without hesitating, he pummeled the kid in the face, so hard that he stumbled back and landed on his ass.

Instead of coming to their friend’s aid, the two other boys immediately backed out of the way, and the one holding her jacket dropped it to the ground as if it had suddenly caught fire.

The guy still on his ass put his hand up to his nose as blood spurted out of his nostrils, his eyes round in shock. “Jesus Christ, I think you broke my nose, you asshole!”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” her rescuer said insolently, his body tense and his hands still clenched into fists at his sides as he narrowed his gaze. “Consider this a friendly warning to leave her alone. If any of you so much as look her way again, let alone touch her, I’ll break your fucking kneecaps.”

One of the other boys put his hands up in a placating gesture, obviously trying to absolve himself of his friend’s callous behavior. “We were just playing around, man.”

“I don’t give a shit what you were doing,” he snarled at them, his temper rising again. “Leave. Her. Alone. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and take out my anger issues on all three of you.”

With a grumble and choice words muttered under his breath, the kid on the ground got up, and the trio walked away. The guy now standing in front of her wasn’t any bigger than those other boys, but he was obviously street tough and didn’t take crap from anyone. The fact that he hadn’t hesitated to punch the main guy spoke volumes to his aggressive, bad boy, I-don’t-give-a-shit personality.

He scooped up her jacket and turned to face her, his features softening a fraction. “Guys who pick on girls are fucking assholes,” he said, his concerned gaze meeting hers. “Nobody is ever going to mess with you again; I’ll make sure of it. Are you okay?”

She lost her breath along with the ability to speak, and could only respond with a jerky nod. He was gorgeous, with dark, unruly hair and the bluest eyes fringed by the longest black lashes she’d ever seen. And his lips . . . they looked so full and soft, despite that he was a guy. His shirt was old and worn with holes, as were his jeans and shoes, which told her that he came from a family who didn’t have much, either.

His fearless actions on her behalf had stunned her, especially since no one had ever defended her before—not even her own mother. His good looks sent her heart aflutter. But it was his vehemence against guys who bullied girls that had her falling madly in love with him right then and there. Until he broke the magical spell by reaching out and skimming a warm, gentle finger over the scabbed cuts all along her arm.

“What the hell happened to your arm?” he asked with a frown.

She instinctively jerked away from his touch. Embarrassment flooded through her that he’d seen the grotesque marks on her skin and now knew just how disfigured and ugly she was. “It’s nothing,” she said tersely and went to grab her jacket.

He moved it out of her reach, his brows creasing deeply. “It’s not nothing. Who did this to you?” he demanded.

She didn’t know why, but she was compelled to answer him. “I . . . I did it to myself.” And why did he even care?

He didn’t push for more answers. Not right then.

Instead, he said very quietly, “I get it,” and she knew in that moment that he really did understand her kind of deep, emotional pain, because he’d been there, too. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it.”

After that day in the park, no one had messed with her again. Word had spread around school that Mason Kincaid would kick anyone’s ass who dared to harass her. They’d spent a lot of time together, and he’d become her best friend. Her protector. The one man in her life she trusted without question and who knew things about her that no one else did.

And yes, she’d eventually confided in him about her stepfather, and he’d shared his own horrible family situation. That he had a drug-addict prostitute for a mother who was in prison at that time, and that he’d suffered abuse of his own at the hands of one of his mother’s boyfriends. But at least he’d had his brothers, and they all took care of one another. She’d had no one except him.

They’d formed a strong, unbreakable bond, despite Mason’s wild and rebellious personality, and despite the fact that she’d spent the past twelve years watching him with other women while loving him from afar . . .

Katrina realized that her mind had wandered—hopefully not for too long—and that Samantha was still waiting for her to answer her question about what had happened that day she’d met Mason when he’d confronted her bullies.

“Mason saw that I was all alone and being picked on by three boys,” she said, shortening the story. “And when one of the guys wouldn’t back away from me, Mason punched him in the nose and knocked the kid on his ass. From that day on, he was like my bodyguard, and that pretty much made sure that no one else would ever bother me again.”

Samantha gasped in shock, then she started laughing, causing the stylist who was doing her hair to pause for a moment until her giggles subsided. “Oh, my God, so Mason really was a ball buster when he was younger! Clay told me he was a handful, and we all know he’s still a reckless bad boy. I can only imagine what he was like as a teenager.”

“He was a total delinquent,” Katrina admitted as her own hairdresser curled a few wisps of hair around her face, then sprayed the pretty style in place. “He drank, smoked pot, ditched school, and pretty much ignored anyone with any kind of authority, including Clay.”

“He still does that,” Tara said, grinning in amusement. “I mean, who else would get away with banging some chick in the bar bathroom?”

“So true,” Katrina admitted, and shook her head as she remembered just how irritated she’d been with Mason for being so crass. “Honestly, Clay tried his best with Mason, but I just think Mason had a lot of anger built up inside of him, and being rebellious to the extreme was his way of acting out.”

But even though Mason had repeatedly tested Clay’s patience and lived to break rules, she’d always known from the moment she’d met him that day in the park that Mason had a huge heart, even if he didn’t believe it himself. She’d seen that caring side the day he’d rescued her from those bullies, and in the way he’d become such a dependable friend to her over the years.

Through the years and during her time in therapy for her own emotional issues, Katrina had been able to realize that Mason’s mother’s behavior, and the fact that she’d completely neglected then abandoned all of her kids, had affected him more deeply than he’d ever admit.

Then there was the fact that none of the Kincaid brothers knew who’d fathered each of them, and had never had a paternal figure in their lives that they’d trusted. Katrina knew Mason well enough to know that he felt unworthy of anyone’s love, and therefore he did stupid shit to continually test the people around him, to see if he pushed them far enough that they’d eventually leave him, too. It was a reckless pattern that also contributed to his hit-it-and-quit-it attitude with women.

And that was something Katrina didn’t think she’d ever be able to change. He wasn’t the type to psychoanalyze himself or modify his behavior. The part of him that felt unworthy ruled any impulse or need he might have to change. Not even Katrina’s steady presence, unwavering support . . . or love—if Mason would just open his eyes and see it—would change who he was.

“Clay said he even stole a car once,” Samantha said, looking completely scandalized by the crime that Mason had committed in his youth.

“Yes, he did,” Katrina replied as the girl who’d been doing her hair started applying her foundation. “And he ended up spending some time in juvie for it. But even that didn’t straighten his ass out.”

“What finally did?” Tara asked curiously.

“A few months out of juvie when he was seventeen, he got caught spray-painting graffiti on the side wall of this guy’s business, which was a tattoo shop.” Katrina closed her eyes as the girl applied her eye shadow then liner. “His name was Joe, and instead of filing charges against Mason for vandalism and destruction of property, he made a deal with Clay that Mason would sandblast all the graffiti off the wall and work an entire month in his shop as a cleanup guy, which Mason hated.”

Samantha laughed. “I’ll just bet he did.”

“But Mason has always been artistic, and he loved to draw and was a natural at it.” Katrina still had all the drawings that Mason had done for her throughout their years in high school, most of them whimsical and amusing sketches meant to put a smile on her face, and she still cherished each one.

Katrina continued her story as mascara was added to her lashes. “So, during his month of working at the tattoo shop, Joe told Mason that if he proved he could stay out of trouble, he’d teach him a few things about tattooing and let him design for clients. That was the incentive that Mason needed to focus on something worthwhile, and after another six months of being the shop owner’s grunt, Mason was offered an apprenticeship. Now, he has his own shop.”

“Wow, I had no idea that’s how it all happened,” Tara said in awe. “Clay must be really proud of Mason.”

“He’s proud of both boys,” Katrina said, having been a part of the Kincaid brothers’ lives for so long. “They all had a difficult life growing up, and if it wasn’t for Clay being there for Mason and Levi, there’s no telling how they all would have ended up. Clay is the one who made sure they stayed together as a family, instead of getting split apart by foster care after their mother ended up in prison.”

“And that’s why I’m marrying that amazing man,” Samantha said with a dreamy sigh. “Because he’s got a heart of gold, and there isn’t anything he won’t do for the people he loves, which makes me one very lucky girl.”

A knock sounded on the suite’s double doors, and one of the stylists went to let the photographer in, who was ready to take pre-wedding photos of the bridal party.

“Are you ready to get started?” Sara, the photographer, asked Samantha. “We’ll begin with the boudoir shots that you requested, then get you in your wedding dress and go from there with your two maids of honor.”

Samantha beamed with excitement. “Give me another ten minutes to finish with my makeup, and I’ll be good to go.”

“Perfect,” Sara said with a smile. “I’ll get things set up in the bedroom and meet you in there.”

Katrina smiled at the blissful look on Samantha’s face. Knowing ever having such a fantasy man for herself was highly unlikely, she’d just have to live vicariously through her friend.

But for now, she had to mentally prepare herself for the wedding and to face Mason for the first time since last night and pretend as though everything was back to normal, when that was the furthest thing from the truth.