Page 36 of Raggedy Dan
Riley’s stomach twisted, a sharp pang she hadn’t expected.She pictured this Sarah, this pretty, compassionate woman, touching his scars the way she did now, and a hot flush of jealousy burned through her.Why did the idea of another woman bother her so much?He is here with me, not some ghost from the past.But the image lingered, making her chest tight.
“And before that?”she pressed, regretting it even as she asked.“In the service?Any serious ones?”
He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it.“A high school sweetheart who wrote me letters for the first deployment.Lisa.We were kids who thought puppy love was gonna last forever.She met someone else while I was gone.He was some kind of accountant type.She broke it off in a Dear John email.After that, dating was just flings, nothing real.Until you.”
Lisa.Sarah.Names that shouldn’t matter, but suddenly they did.Riley imagined them, young, unscarred, Lisa laughing with a pre-blast Dan, the one without the bandana or the shadows in his eyes.Her fingers stilled on his chest, and she forced a smile, but it felt brittle.“Sounds like you dodged a few bullets.”
Dan tilted her chin up, searching her face.“Hey, what’s that look?You jealous, Monroe?”
She scoffed, but it came out too quick, too defensive.“Me?No.Just curious.”Liar.The green-eyed monster was clawing at her insides, whispering that those women had parts of him she’d never know.She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent of leather and soap to ground herself.Stupid, she thought.He’s mine, no question about that.But the regret settled in, heavy and unwelcome.Why did I open that door?
He wrapped his arms around her tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair.“They’re history, Riley.You’re my now.My always.”
She nodded against him, letting his words soothe the sting.But as she drifted towards sleep, the names echoed faintly, a reminder that love came with vulnerabilities she wasn’t used to facing.Next time, she’d keep her questions to herself.
Chapter Twelve
Dan
Days passed like a fever dream Dan never wanted to wake from.
Mornings started with coffee and chaos in his small kitchen.Riley tried to make pancakes one Sunday, and the smoke alarm screamed before the first flip.Flour had dusted her hair like fresh snow, and when she laughed at the blackened mess, Dan pulled her against him, kissed her through the taste of burnt batter, and carried her back to bed.They were both terrible cooks, but they were good at finding humor in it.
At the shop, every other day or so she’d blocked off time to work on his military tribute tattoo, using unscheduled hours or when they were closed.She asked him not to look at it, and he’d honored her request, even though it had killed him to not know how it was coming together.Gotta trust.I gotta have faith she’ll do only quality work,he’d thought.
He could look his fill now, because they’d finished up late last night, him naked in her studio chair, her straddling his hips, cock buried deep while she tattooed the final touches on the art.Then he’d fucked up into her until she came, his thumb pressing hard on her clit, feeling her arousal slick and hot around his cock.It hadn’t taken much to push him over the edge, just a slow sex-drunk kiss where she whispered his name, something he’d readily accept from her, against his lips, “Raggedy Dan.”
They were still in the quiet honeymoon of a new relationship.Long talks, late evenings, and hot-as-hell sex.He’d never worshipped a woman’s body with more care than he had hers once they got home.
Most days were quiet.
Last Tuesday, something Riley had declared a Lazy Tuesday, she’d set up her portable rig in his living room.She’d placed a drop cloth over the couch and set her machine to humming, the smell of green soap and antiseptic filling the room.He sat shirtless on a stool while she inked the Rogue Maniacs rocker across his right shoulder.He’d gotten Tinder’s approval at a cookout behind the clubhouse last weekend.
The outline came first, then the deep black fill, the horse rearing fierce and proud.When she wiped the excess ink away and he stared into the mirror, his throat closed up.Grown men had cried in the clubhouse chapel over less meaningful ink.Dan stared at the fresh work, then at her.
“You made it look like it always belonged there,” he rasped.
