KINDLING

Dear wonderful readers,

Ignition is the second in an expanded series universe that includes my Brown Family, Hurley Boys, Delicious and Whiskey Sharp books under the Ink and Chrome title.

Ignition is the story of Alexander, “Xander” Copeland Keenan, the son of Erin Brown, Todd Keenan and Ben Copeland (Laid Bare). He works at Written On the Body, a tattoo shop owned and run by his uncle, Brody Brown (Coming Undone) and Raven Warner (Drawn Together).

The other hero is Hamish Wilson, a singer songwriter we met in Ink and Chrome 3, Coming Back, as he’s Jessi Franklin’s brother.

And Pippa Hall, entirely new to these books, though she’s close with the Franklin family and besties with Rennie Brown (Brody’s daughter).

I hope you enjoy these three as much as I loved writing their story!

Lauren

At the hail of his name, Xander set his sketchpad back on the shelf at his station, but when he walked to reception and saw Pippa Hall standing there, a shaft of pale, late-afternoon sunlight caressing her face, his fingers twitched. An urge sent from his brain to the part of him always ready to draw. The curves of her cheeks needed to be put to paper. The coppery tones in her eyelashes caught the light.

The outside was attractive enough, but something far more than looks called Xander’s attention to her. She exuded an honesty and sweetness like perfume. What he’d considered curiosity had deepened into a craving in the two weeks since he’d first met her at a family party.

That night they’d chatted quickly about the tattoo she’d been scheduled to receive from his uncle Brody. After some fancy talk, Xander managed to convince her he had several great concepts already for the life cycle of a butterfly she wanted.

In the weeks since he’d texted her several times, ostensibly to talk about the design she’d finally chosen after tweaks. He was a busy person, but he found himself turning toward her repeatedly. Even if for just a few lines and an emoji.

And when she turned and their gazes locked, his already very good life got better. All the noise and chaos seemed to fade away when she was near. Like every part of him focused its attention to her.

“Hi there, Xander,” Pippa said, her mouth tipping up into a smile. “Ready for me?”

Was he? Hell if he knew. Normally he kept things mellow and casual, but there he was pulling her into his life.

The open, pleased tone in her voice stirred something deep in his belly. More than the chemistry that hung thick between them, there was a recognition there. Like he’d been waiting for her on some level. It was novel enough he couldn’t wait to see what else was in store.

“Hey.” He smiled at her before he leaned down to hug his cousin, Rennie, who also happened to be tight with Pippa. “Wasn’t expecting to see your face. Though I’m not complaining. Are you here to keep Pippa company?”

If she didn’t say no, Xander was putting coal in her stocking at Christmas.

“Not today. I’ve got a lunch date with my dad. I’ll see you later, Pippa.” Rennie hugged her and headed toward the back where Brody, the owner of Written On the Body, was working in his office.

“Again, I do appreciate you fitting me in today,” Pippa told him as he led her to his station.

Deep-copper curls tumbled to her shoulders. Shiny silver clips caught it away from her face. Freckles danced over her cheeks and nose, peeking through the makeup she wore. She was under five and a half feet tall, petite but powerful in jeans, boots, and a light-purple sweater that hugged her curves.

There were moments around petite women where simply due to his size, he felt like a marauding Godzilla, or he was so worried about stepping on a toe or whatever that he kept a distance.

But she invited him closer. Didn’t shrink away from the full force of him, and that was rather delicious.

Speaking of delicious. She smelled like sugar and something smoky and sexy. He desperately wanted to know what she tasted like.

Instead of giving in to the wild impulse to kiss her like some fuckin’ weirdo, he led her to his station where he’d left the design they’d agreed upon a few days earlier. “I know we’ve spoken about these, but if you find you don’t like it now that you’re seeing it in person, I can adjust.”

He’d created the butterfly as the center of the tattoo in blues and purples, with the green and brown of the chrysalis and the caterpillar as pops of color to draw the eye to the way they melded into the body of the butterfly in one instance and parts of the wing elsewhere.

“My plan is to focus on the purples, blues, and greens.” He indicated the accompanying full-color sketch. “They’ll last longer than yellows or orange would.” He pointed out two other versions. “These are similar.”

“I’d imagined it as a monarch, so with oranges and blacks, but this…” she held up the one that was his favorite, “…is better. It’s delicate but not weak, if you know what I mean. I love the combination of all the colors and the way it’s made up of individual parts, but when it’s looked at as a big picture, it’s one thing on a continuum. Different and yet the same thing all at once. I know it’s the point. I still think it’s magic.”

“I’m glad you like it. That one was my top choice too.” There was a warm, pleasant weight in his belly at her words. “Let me get this on a stencil. I want you in that chair, facing the back.”

In an economic motion, she grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it off, leaving her in a halter bodysuit beneath.

He’d already noticed how she blushed. With her pale complexion, he bet he could clock every emotion on her skin.

Soon enough, he’d set up his inks, got the positioning of the stencil set according to her preference, and his hands were on her right arm as he adjusted the arm and headrest.

“What’s the longest you’ve sat for a tattoo?” he asked her, putting thoughts of how sexy Pippa was away for the rest of the appointment.

She held out her other arm to show him a tattoo of a black-and-gray-shaded wrench. It was well done, all the dents and cracks as metal morphed into bone, the shading rendering it nearly three dimensional. A piece like that took a meticulous and patient hand and a great deal of experience. He recognized it without even being told who the artist was.

“That took two and a half hours,” Pippa said.

“Raven is so damned good,” he murmured as he took one last look before straightening.

“I love her work. I had just tossed out some ideas of things I liked, and she created a few different sketches like you did. This one was it for me the instant I saw it. At some point I’m going to have her add some flowers for a pop of color. And the one Brody did is a blackbird on my hip. Simple. That was my first one, and it took less than an hour.”

“Big jump between less than an hour up to over two. The positioning of this one won’t be as painful as it might be in other places, but there’ll be spots that hurt. If you need to take a break, let me know. There’s no reason for this to be agony.”

She smiled, and it sent a shiver over his skin. “It’s okay if it hurts a little.”

Christ. A blast of heat exploded through him. He coughed to cover the indrawn breath, and a dimple to the right of her mouth showed up for a moment.

He put gloves on and moved the light until he got it perfect. “Tip your head a little to the left.” When she did what he asked and he was satisfied with the way the skin and muscle lay, he said, “Try to keep this arm relaxed.”

The way she complied so easily flipped every switch he had. He liked being in charge, and not just when someone was in his chair.

She sighed softly as she settled in, and he picked up his tattoo machine, not missing the way her lips curved up as the hum filled the air.

Two weeks ago, Pippa had picked her friend Rennie up from a family party at her parents’ house. When Pippa had gone inside to get her, she’d been enveloped by a wave of Rennie’s loved ones. She’d been introduced to what felt like a hundred people, all of them colorful and charming and attractive. It had been no small amount overwhelming. Though she’d already known Rennie’s parents and sister, the place busted at the seams with the genetically gifted.

And that had been before she’d been introduced to Xander. She’d sort of forgotten they were on their way out the door as he’d flirted and charmed her. Not a bit of artifice to it. He was smart and funny, and she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind in the days since.

By the time she and Rennie had managed to get to the car, Pippa had found herself with an appointment in two weeks’ time to get a tattoo from one of the country’s next generation of ink superstars.

They’d texted and emailed back and forth to consult on the design, and she’d wondered if that arc of attraction they’d had at the party was a one-time thing. She got her answer when he’d come out to the waiting area and her senses had gone into overtime. Absolutely gorgeous.

More than tall, he was broad-shouldered. He was bigger than she’d remembered, even after looking—like fourteen times—at a recent magazine spread that featured multiple pictures and poses.

In person he also had…substantial energy. It drew her attention and held it. Magnetic. A lot of men his size made her uncomfortable. Their energy felt more like restless aggression. Xander took up space but not at her expense.

Sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes with lashes so thick and dark it looked like he’d lined his lids with black. He had a septum piercing which took the prettier parts of him and gave them an edge. It was mid-September, and it had dropped to the low fifties, and he wore a navy long-sleeved shirt that hugged his shoulders distractingly. His beard was perfectly trimmed, and when he smiled, her stomach and parts lower warmed and got a little fluttery.

His hair was short on the sides and back, but the top was thick and longer, a fetching bit of caramel brown he’d shoved back from his face with a very large hand at the party, but at work he had it caught away from his eyes.

Even as he jabbed ink into her skin with multiple needles, his touch was patient and gentle. The sound of the machine and the haze of pain that wasn’t entirely negative seemed to lull her into a place where she floated as he spoke.

“We didn’t get to talk much at Brody’s birthday party,” he said as he stood next to her, the heat of his body washing over her exposed arm and shoulder. “Not as much as I’d have liked. How’d you meet Rennie?”

He would have liked? All sorts of happy chemicals surged in her. “Twisted Steel is in a warehouse district. There are several other businesses and a few industrial art spaces like Rennie’s in the same area, so multiple food trucks show up daily. My first week there, Rennie and I ended up in line together more than once. Friday morning, over a breakfast burrito, I asked her if she wanted to come to the film festival with me and another friend. We’ve hung out regularly since. Rennie was sort of a package deal, because when Martine moved back to Seattle six months ago, we became close. After I got to know Brody and Elise, I understand why their daughters are so wonderful.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never met you before that birthday party.”

“I wager we’re most likely not in the same social circles.” He was in the super-gorgeous, inked-up-son-of-a-rock-star club, and she was in bed by nine thirty and took her slippers and an extra blanket when she traveled.

“My cousins are my social circle,” he said, amused.

“You mean your cousin Miles, the international superstar? Or his fiancée, also a famous musician? Or do you mean Rennie, with her art shows and accolades?”

Rennie painted hyperrealistic works that were so detailed, the color so perfect, the application so precise, they looked like photographs. Miles was the lead singer of a band called Earthquakes, and they’d spent the last three years on back-to-back sold-out tours to support back-to-back hit albums. Handsome, talented, newly engaged, and he’d just wrapped his first major film role.

Xander spoke as he worked, his voice wrapping around the whine of the tattoo machine. “Okay, so we’re not normal in the usual sense of the word. My family is huge, but super tight. A lot of us work together. We’ve never met an occasion we won’t throw a party for. We’ve taken vacations together my whole life. There are chefs and caterers in the crew, so we’re always well fed. Naturally there’s fantastic music. We’re like a small town really.”

“Okay, I can see that.” She tried to stay still when she laughed. That would be some magical small town. “I imagine being famous makes it even more important to have that safe and trusted circle of people. The outside world is sketchy enough without fans.”

“That’s totally true.” He paused a moment. “My sister was killed by my mom’s stalker. Back before I was born. But it changed everything. She withdrew from the spotlight. Stopped touring for several years until after my dads came along. And then me.”

“I’m sorry I brought up a sad memory.” She wanted to kick herself for not even thinking about that. The story of what had happened to Erin Brown and her young child had been the subject of more than one of those ripped-from-the-headlines-style shows the entertainment channels loved.

“Take it from me, you can’t possibly run everything you think or say through an internal check. It’s a thing that happened, and a million and one different triggers can pull it out of the blue. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m just agreeing that having a tight circle of those you can trust is really important.”

“Your family is special.” There was a lull as he worked, and when he didn’t add anything to the topic, she shifted it, not wanting him uncomfortable.

Which was…something she wasn’t sure how to feel about. Pippa had spent her life until she was fifteen being taught all her focus should be on everything else but herself. Her parents, the phantom of the future husband that’d been the ultimate goal of any girl’s life where she grew up. God. The church. Her younger siblings. The household. She wasn’t on the first page of the list.

So she’d spent a lot of time unlearning. Finding a balance where she could care about and for the people in her closest circle without losing herself and what mattered to her. It brought up things both positive and negative that he evoked a protectiveness she rarely felt outside her very own closest circle.

“How long have you been tattooing?” she asked, giving them both space.

The way she’d been paying such close attention was fucking delightful.

“Goes back to that small town I was talking about. My mother owns the café next door, so some of my earliest memories are of being there. At the back of the building there’s a corridor running between the café and here. I spent so many hours of my life sliding back and forth, loving both worlds. One with food and my mom, and the other, ink and color. Brody would put me in a chair in the corner of his booth and let me watch him work. Raven gave me my first sketchbook when I was five and made a place in her station for me to keep them once I filled them up. I was eleven or twelve when Raven let me help her with some of her sketches. Fifteen when I did my first—very simple—tattoo. Once my uncle was satisfied I was serious about tattooing and being a tattooist, he let me apprentice. Which at the start is little more than sweeping and setting up stations between clients.”

“Same in most repair shops,” she murmured. “I’ve cleaned a lot of employee bathrooms. So disgusting. Swept up a lot of shop spills.”

He liked that shared bit of history with her.

“I’ve cleaned the bathroom here plenty. Fortunately, Raven established some basic cleanliness rules before I was even born. Since everyone is afraid of her, it wasn’t too bad.” His mom’s best friend and essentially his second mother was known for her larger-than-life personality, take-zero-bullshit attitude, and incredible talent.

“I was nineteen when I did my first solo tattoo that was more than a few lines. Got my own chair here all official like when I was twenty-one. I’ve had a client list pretty much since then. I’ve never wanted to be anything else. Oh, well, other than the year I tried to convince my parents I needed fencing lessons because I had plans to be in the next Olympics. Imagine my disappointment when I found out it took years of work and skill.”

“Stop. You’re going to make me laugh, and then I’ll make you mess up the tattoo,” she told him, amusement in her tone.

Her eyes were closed, and she looked utterly relaxed.

“You’re obviously a natural,” she said, sending warmth chasing through him. “The pieces included in that magazine article about you were all so good. Gave me some ideas for future work.”

“Lucked out having two such close adults in my life who took the time to train me and trust me.”

“Lucky for them too, I’d wager.”

His mother would love hearing that.

“Well.” He paused and then gave in to curiosity. “Which were your favorites? From the article I mean.”

“The art nouveau woman’s face with the purple flowers. I’ve seen that one in person, and I know it’s even more stunning than the photos. When Rennie told me it had taken ten hours over two sessions, I could believe it. The detail work is evident.”

“My family bravely allow me to tattoo them. Like I said, I’m fortunate,” he told her, not wanting her to think he was a braggart.

“Or maybe it’s that they’re honored to have you tattoo them because you’re so good. Food for thought.”

Pippa rested her head and closed her eyes, letting the whine of the tattoo machine wash over her. A year and a half earlier, she’d gotten her very first tattoo. The experience had been hypnotic. It had hurt but in a good way. In a way she was certain she wasn’t supposed to like but did just the same. Then, she told herself it had been the novelty of the experience.

A tattoo would have been impossible in the life she’d been born into. It had taken over a decade away from the group before she could even accept the growing desire to get one.

But then Raven had done the wrench on her inner arm, and over the few hours it had taken, Pippa had realized her reactions were far more than the rush of breaking a former taboo. There was something delicious about the sounds and vibrations of the machine humming through her, the sharp edge of pain and the tiny earthquakes of pleasure that soothed her agitation right down to her very soul.

Those two experiences had been pleasurable but not in a sexual or romantic way. She’d gone a little floaty. But this was different. The way his hands were on her, firm but gentle as he worked, not restraining exactly, but it got close enough that suddenly it was all her brain wanted to think about. Xander clasping her wrists, holding her down.

“How did you learn to fix cars?” he asked, head bent close to her skin. The vibration of his voice seemed to swirl around all the other sounds like a slow, firm stroke over her skin.

Pippa had to dig deep to find the control to answer his question before she had one of those phantom orgasms that wisped away right as you woke up from your dream.

“I grew up in the middle of nowhere. It was necessary to know how to fix the washing machine, the various lawn mowers, and other such things. One of my older brothers is really good with engines, and I watched and then pestered him until he gave in and started teaching me.” It was best to skip the part where she’d been so good at fixing engines, her mother, and the aunts, stopped pushing to get her back in the house where she was supposed to be full-time. After she and her sisters had been forced to leave, Pippa’d had a marketable skill. One of the few she’d been given by her family or anyone within the group.

“Then when I moved to Washington with my sisters when I was fifteen, I registered for school midyear, and the principal put me in auto shop after I successfully argued her and my social worker out of another shop-based class. They agreed, but thought it was just a place to keep me until I could transfer into something else. But I loved it, and I was already good at it. I did some repair work regularly. Under the table of course. But it helped pay the bills. I kept at it, and then the school sent me off to a local technical college to take classes there once there wasn’t anything left for me in high school. One of the teachers knew Hap, my old boss, was looking for someone for his shop. I did a work study thing there until I graduated, and I started full-time.”

“Sweeping floors?” he teased.

“Yes. Dealing with all the worst jobs. I’m good with engines, but I was eighteen years old, and the shop was full of men in their forties. I had to bust my bottom for years to get them to take me seriously.” It had been Hap, always on her side, always finding ways for her to gain more knowledge and experience while holding her out when she did a good job.

“Try being the nephew of the guy who owns the place,” Xander muttered.

“Ah, I can see that.” It was hard enough to prove oneself in the world; to have to overcome preconceptions that you only got your position because of who you were related to would be frustrating.

“Floor sweeping is a great equalizer for everyone,” Brody teased as he approached. “Mind if I take a look?” he asked Pippa.

“Sure. Long as Xander is fine with that.”

Xander shifted back from her body while his uncle turned a critical eye on his efforts.

“Boy’s good at floor sweeping and tattooing,” Brody murmured.

“I can also make a very good grilled cheese sandwich.” The pleasure in Xander’s voice was obvious. Pippa found herself liking him even more for it. He was a grown man with his own client list, but it was important his uncle respected him.

“Gonna be a stunner when you’re finished,” Brody told him.

Brody came and went over the next three hours. Checking on the work, but really it seemed to Pippa that he was pleased with his nephew’s talent and genuinely wanted to watch the process. It made her like both men even more.

Finally, Xander sat back with a pleased sigh. “Take a look,” he invited.

She paused in front of the mirror, holding another in her hand to reflect the back of her shoulder. He’d managed to create something that was big and strong but feminine and suited to her form and her personality. The blues and palest of greens bled into the browns and scattered bits of purple in exactly the way they did in real life.

“This is stunning.” It made her feel beautiful. Like a piece of art.

“Yeah?” His smile as he stood and approached her had gone…different. A bit of that professional distance had fallen away. “I’m glad you like it.”

He gave her instructions on aftercare, and he took her up front to pay. She disagreed with him briefly over the discount he gave her. “Friends and family. Don’t argue. It’s one of the benefits we provide. Helps make up for the fact we’re noisy and in each other’s business all day long.” His grin lit up all sorts of things inside her, like a video game.

Once that had been taken care of, he put a hand on her arm to stay her movement as they neared the door. She looked up and then up some more. The intensity throbbed from him, leaving her a little breathless.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

She nodded.

“Are you single? Now that you’re not actively my client, I wanted to see if you were hungry and up for grabbing dinner with me. Or, even if you’re with someone, I like you and I’d like to know you more. Honestly though, I’m hoping you’re free.”

“I’m dating people, but no one exclusively. And I’m starving.”