Temporary Bliss (Love By Chance Book 3) Read online

  “Someone looks happy,” Saint announced when I walked through the double doors of The Coffee Shoppe. The sunlight glinted off the glass storefront, sending a splash of rainbow onto the white tile flooring and over Saint’s leather Doc Martens. He tilted his head to study me. No doubt he saw the hickies on my neck. Not like I was trying to hide them. “Did you get laid?”

  I flashed him a shameless smile. Hell yeah I did. I’d only been grinning like the cat that ate the canary since I walked out of Gideon’s apartment this morning. Nothing like a little nookie to put me in a great mood.

  “Only the best lay of my life,” I told him. That wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d never felt so thoroughly fucked in my entire twenty-four years on this great green earth. Not even Brandon could hold a flame to Gideon’s passion, and I used to be utterly in love with that man and his giant dick.

  “I can’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling right now, but I’m definitely up in the clouds.” I giggled as I plunked down in the seat across the booth from him. “Just damn, it was amazing. I wish that you—” I cut myself off, but not before I saw the hurt flash through Saint’s eyes. Way to be sensitive, moron. “Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

  “It’s fine, Mika,” Saint said, but the muscles around his mouth tightened. “You’re allowed to live life. I would never begrudge you for that. Just because my life sucks doesn’t mean you have to pussyfoot around my feelings. I get it.”

  I dropped my chin to my chest with a sigh. My good mood flagged. “I know, but I still feel like shit.”

  I was the only person in the world who knew Saint was gay, but he would never come out. He couldn’t, not while his father’s unholy presence still graced this planet. Wesley Albright, CEO and owner of Albright Enterprises, was a racist homophobe who’d tarnished ex-employee’s names for their sexuality. He’d ruined countless lives. Saint was no exception to the rule.

  Saint was terrified of his father and I couldn’t say that I blamed him. I’d seen the bruises, experienced the emotional damage first-hand. Wesley Albright was a modern day monster who ruled his peons—and his family—with violence. Saint was both of those things. He was up a river without a paddle and all I was doing was rubbing it in.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He huffed. “Stop being so damn sorry and order your drink.”

  “I just want the usual. I’m boring.”

  “Mika, you’re the farthest thing from boring there is,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re bright and hopeful and so damn colorful. I’m jealous. I know things haven’t been easy for you, but you’re really coming into your own and I’m proud of you.”

  “Aw, Saint…”

  “I mean it. One sec, I’ll go get our drinks—and don’t even think about paying me back. I got this.” He offered a quick smile, then strode over to the front counter where a teeny-bopper barista in a maroon apron waited to take his order. I watched him from our booth.

  It really was a crying shame. Saint had it all—good looks, a buttload of money and a brilliantly artistic mind. He was a package deal…and he’d be stuck marrying some hapless girl who he would never be able to love the way a wife should be. My heart ached for him. He was a good person, one of the best I’d ever met, and it made my hatred for Wesley Albright burn even brighter.

  Saint deserved better. He deserved to be happy. He could continue to smile, but it would never reach his eyes and it broke my heart. I swallowed around the emotion that felt like tiny shards of glass in my throat and tried to focus on happier times. The last thing I needed was to get weepy in the middle of the coffeeshop.

  “So. I had a crazy idea,” I said once Saint had joined me back at the table. I took a swig of my iced caramel coffee. It was perfectly sweet, just the way I liked it, where Saint drank his coffee jet black and soulless.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “I want to hire you.”

  Saint paused. “What?”

  “Yeah. I’ve decided that I want to get some ink to cover up my scars and I want you to be the person to design them.” I laid my arms across the tables, my wrists bared to the sky. Thin white lines barred down my arms from palm to elbow in pristine, perfect rows. It didn’t seem that long ago that I bled my sorrows out from beneath a razor blade.

  “I haven’t found the perfect parlor yet, but I’ve been looking.”

  “You want my art on your body?” Saint’s gaze was suddenly intense.

  “You’re my best friend. Hell yeah, I do. Will you?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

  He shook his head. “Mika, I don’t want your money.”

  “I want to pay you anyway. Your work is amazing. You’re amazing and you shouldn’t have to work for free.” Even if I was living paycheck to paycheck, I’d been saving a little bit from each check. I could make it work.

  “No.”

  “Saint, c’mon.”

  “I don’t want your money. I don’t need money.” He dragged in a sharp breath, like he was trying to keep himself under control. He blew it back out slowly and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, determination shone in their dark depths. “You really want my art on your skin? It’s permanent.”

  “No shit. Yes, I do. I’ve been planning this for forever, Saint. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Then I’ll do it, but you’re not paying me for it.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “It’ll be an early Christmas gift, how about that? I’ll even pay for the tattoos. You’re one of the strongest people I know. When times got rough, you didn’t give up, even though you wanted to.”

  “Only because of you,” I murmured.

  Saint just smiled. “It doesn’t matter. You chose life, Mika. You chose to keep going and I would be honored to design your ink.” He squeezed my hand on top of the table and I squeezed right back, fighting back tears the entire time.

  “Thank you. It means so much to me.”

  “I know, honey. I know.”

  6

  Gideon

  “Dude, I can’t believe you ditched me,” Izzy grumped the following afternoon. He stuck out his bottom lip and jutted his chin like a petulant five-year-old who’d just been told his parents ate all his Halloween candy. With his Ed Sheeran ginger mop-top and freckles, it was downright comical. “I searched the whole damn club last night, looking for you.”

  “Sorry, man. I was preoccupied.” Understatement of the year, but it was the only excuse I had.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you at least get lucky?”

  When I smirked, Ivy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a whore.”

  “Hey now, that hurts. I’m not a complete whore. I got his number.”

  Izzy jumped to his feet with a gasp, planting one hand on his chest to clutch at his heart. “Holy shit, call the press. Really, though, are you feeling okay? I can’t even remember the last time you slept with someone more than a single night. You aren’t thinking of trying out monogamy, are you?”

  “The horror!” Ivy snickered. I wound back to slap her, but the little brat was faster than I gave her credit for. She danced out of reach with a taunting “Nyah-nyah,” while her brother howled with laughter.

  Whatever. I huffed and folded my arms across my chest. “Oh, fuck off, both of you.”

  “Touchy, touchy.”

  “But for real though. Guessing the dry streak is over?” Izzy asked after pulling himself together.

  “After last night? I’d say so.” In fact, I was already counting down the hours to the next time I’d see Mika—not that I’d tell the twins that. “We’re gonna fuck a few times, that’s all. He needed a fake boyfriend for some family thing and like the gentleman I am, I agreed. Dinner and a show.”

  Ivy paused. “Wait. Does he know who you are?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “If he does, he didn’t bring it up. It’s kind of nice.” It wasn’t like I minded the fangirls and boys falling at my feet. I was the drummer of Gravitatio
n. We were kind of a household name and I did have a reputation, after all, but I had the distinct feeling that Mika had sought me out because he liked what he saw. He wanted me for me. I liked that. I liked it a lot.

  A text from an unknown number popped up around two in the afternoon. I knew it was Mika before I ever read the text, just from the big red emoticon hearts he put at the end. The text read: Here’s my address. See you at 7 ;) Better not be late.

  Wouldn’t dream of it, I typed back, and that was that.

  I fully expected someone like Mika to be a spoiled rich kid who got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted on his daddy’s dime. I was shocked to roll up to the curb in front of a ratty-looking apartment complex whose rent probably cost less than my car payments. Its gutters were sagging and it was in desperate need of being resided. I grabbed my phone to double check the address, but this was the place.

  Mika didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the state of his housing. He strolled out the front door and down the cement steps at two minutes till seven, dressed for the brisk fall evening. He pranced over to my car. When I rolled down the window, he bent down to peer in at me. “Hey there.”

  I grinned. “Hey yourself. Hop in.”

  He pulled the passenger door open and slipped inside, and I gave him a once-over. He wore a pair of crisp black jeans, brown leather boots and a soft angora knit sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes. “You look cozy.”

  “Mmm. It’s chilly out.” His expression was a happy one. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said.

  He wiggled in his seat. “Ooh, I like surprises.”

  “Good.”

  When I pulled up in front of my favorite Japanese restaurant, I put the car in park but didn’t kill the engine. I gestured to the bright red sign. “Does this work? They have the best sushi bar in town.”

  “I’ve never been, but it sounds amazing. I love sushi.”

  He wasn’t lying, either, because when the waiter brought us the sampler platter, Mika dove right in. He didn’t bother with the chopsticks, instead using his fingers to pop a California roll into his mouth, and the sound he made… Oh hell. Those little moans went straight to my dick. I was pretty sure Mika knew it, too, because of that smile. Naughty boy.

  Small-talk had never come easy to me, but for some reason, chatting with Mika was effortless. He bounced from topic to topic, asking questions between bites, and I found myself answering them honestly instead of tossing out something half-baked. It was weird, but I kind of wanted to impress him and that totally wasn’t a Gideon Grey thing to do.

  We finished up and I paid the tab, comfortably full but not stuffed. I didn’t want to overeat and fall asleep, not when I was hoping Mika would come home with me tonight. As we were leaving, Mika tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind his ear and I noticed the tattoo. I caught his wrist in the parking lot.

  “Wait. I wanna see something?”

  “Huh?” He turned back to me. I brushed his hair back to see the tiniest black heart with an arrow shot through the center. “Oh, that? I need to get it touched up. I got it the day I turned eighteen.” He reached up to touch it and a faint smile crossed his lips. “It’s in memory of my dad. He was big into archery and always dressed up as Robin Hood when we were growing up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. They’re good memories and it was years ago. I was thirteen when he died, but it really made me grow up. I miss him every day. He was the coolest dad ever.” He turned to look at me. “Actually, I’m looking to get inked again. Still haven’t found the perfect artist. Know of any good ones?”

  “I know a few, but the guy that did this one’s my favorite.” I hitched up my shirt to bare my torso, where a bright watercolor tattoo of a koi painted my skin. I wasn’t the biggest fan of rainbow ink, but after skimming through the guy’s portfolio, I knew he was the one to bring this to life. He definitely didn’t disappoint. My koi was my favorite tattoo and I’d been getting inked since I was sixteen.

  “Oh, wow.” Mika’s jaw dropped. His fingers traced the stark sumi-e outline of the fish. “This is amazing.”

  “Guy does great work. I’ll text you his address, if you’d like. Now let’s cut to the chase.” I quirked a brow. “You spending the night tonight?”

  “What? You miss me already? Damn, boy.” He threw his head back and laughed. His blue eyes glittered with mischief and happiness, and my heart gave a thump. His smile told me all I needed to know.

  I was getting laid tonight.

  7

  Mika

  Gideon was like a drug and I was definitely loving the high.

  I spent every night that week at his place, only leaving long enough to go to work, come home and shower, and pack some fresh clothes. Then I was right back in Gideon’s bed.

  Honestly? He was everything you could want in a guy—charming and devious and damn near insatiable—and I was pleasantly sore. It’d been a long time since I went at it this hard. Sure, there were a few rebound hook-ups after Brandon ground my heart into dust, but they never felt good. This felt good. So fucking good, in fact, that I was sad to see the week come to an end.

  Determined to distract myself from the fact that tonight would be the last night spent in Gideon’s arms, I made a split-second detour on my way home from work. Gideon had given me a list of his favorite tattoo places around town, but the only one I was interested in was the one who’d inked his koi.

  Little Infinities.

  I drove past it the first time by accident. I didn’t expect it to be this little hole-in-the-wall, but there it was, sitting on the corner of a big red brick building. It wasn’t much to look at, but the neon “Open” sign hanging in the window was lit up, so I parked on the street and walked on in.

  Lounging in a leather chair behind the reception desk was a dead-sexy young man who looked like he could’ve walked right off the front page of a fashion magazine. He was staring so intensely at his cell phone that I feared it might explode from the lasers he was shooting out of his eyes.

  “Hi there,” I ventured and the spell was broken. He tossed his cell onto the desk and sat up straighter in his chair. All he had to do was smile and my heartbeat fluttered in my chest. Wow. Was it hot in here, or was it just me? Focus, Mika.

  “Welcome to Infinities. The receptionist’s out, but I’ll try and help,” he said. “Looking to get inked?” When I nodded, he stood. “I have a couple of books you can look at to get a feel for the place, if you’d like?” He reached up onto the shelf and brought down two scrapbook-style books filled front to back with gorgeous art.

  The first one I flipped through didn’t really match the style of Gideon’s ink. The work was beautiful, sharp and highly detailed, but it wasn’t what I had envisioned for myself. I looked at a few pages before setting it aside and opening the second book. This one had fluffier art—was that even a thing?—bright and shiny pieces, water colors and stained glass.

  And there, on the fourth page, was Gideon’s koi. I ran my fingers over the piece. “This is great. I’ve got a concept and my friend is working on the art. I was hoping to get—”

  “Uh. One sec.” The young man flushed red. “Hah, I don’t really work here. JORIAH! CLIENT!” His shout echoed through the small parlor, making my ears ring. Down the hall, a door banged loudly against the wall and heavy footsteps came shuffling towards us.

  The floor-length red curtain that hung in the hallway was tugged back and out strode a very flamboyant, very large man with cocoa skin and a thick, fuzzy tuft of magenta hair. His full lips were painted the exact same shade. They stretched into a toothy smile when he saw me.

  I liked him immediately.

  He leaned up against the counter, his beefy arms crossed in front of him. “What can I do for you, gorgeous? I’m Joriah and this,” he clapped his hand on top of the art book, “Is my shit. I’m assuming from my dear friend bellowing like a goddamn wounded moose that you’re interested in getti
ng inked?”

  I grinned. “Yeah. Your stuff is amazing.”

  “Why, thank you. I try my best.”

  I began to explain what I wanted—two full-color tattoos to cover up my self-harm scars. He gestured to my arms with a tilt of his rounded chin, and I showed him what he had to work with. His fingers were gentle over the canvas of my wrists. “Can you do that?” I asked.

  “Sure. Not booking till after the holiday weekend, though. Famjam stuff, you know?”

  “Yeah, no. Of course. I don’t have the art quite yet, so that works.”

  “Just call and set up an appointment when you get it and I’ll make sure to get you in.” He winked. “Here’s our business card. Number’s on the bottom, you can’t miss it. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Nope, you got it,” I said happily. “Thanks.”

  “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!” he called after me.

  I went home in a good mood. Now all I had to do was grab a quick bite to eat, run to the grocery store to pick up the stuff to make my favorite holiday cookies, and then it was back to Gideon’s place for one last night before Ma’s big dinner.

  The funny thing was, I had the feeling Ma would approve of Gideon in a way that she wouldn’t have approved of Brandon. She’d always had a good sixth sense about that sort of thing. She would’ve seen right through Brandon’s lies, but hell… Maybe if she’d met him, she could’ve warned me off before I got too invested in the bastard.

  Oh well. He was long gone and it was for the better. For tonight, at least, I had Gideon and that would have to be good enough.

  8

  Gideon

  This was the longest I’d ever spent hooking up with any one person. I was more of a wham-bam-thank you ma’am sort of guy. I didn’t linger long enough to get involved because I didn’t do relationships. Never had, probably never would, but even I couldn’t deny the fact that it’d been nice getting to know Mika.

  But all good things came to an end eventually. We’d agreed to do this fling-thing till Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving was tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d dress to impress his family, and then we’d say goodbye and Mika would breeze right out of my life the same way he came in. I felt a strange tugging in my chest at the thought, but I brushed it off as nerves.