When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss (Aspen Grove)

Chapter 15

W e arrive at the shop, and the familiar scent of ink and antiseptic fills the air.

Mickey is ringing up a customer and they wave goodbye as they exit. “Hey, boss, how’s it going?” He glances at his watch. “You’re here early today.”

“Seren’s coming in.”

Seren is Christian’s mom, and today we’re finishing up the shading on her forearm sleeve. She’s a nurse, so I’ve had to find time to get this done that works around her schedule.

Mickey nods knowingly, and a smile lights up his face when he notices Reese. “Who’s this lovely lady?”

She offers him her hand. “I’m Reese. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Mickey.”

He gives me a sideways glance as he introduces himself. I don’t share much about my personal life, and aside from Martha and Seren, I’ve never brought a woman to the shop.

“Come on, Red.” I nod toward my workstation. “I’ve got to start prep.”

My station is neat and organized, with a cabinet positioned against the wall that stores all of my supplies, a stool for me to work on, and a leather chair that reclines.

I set up two additional folding chairs while Reese walks around the outer perimeter, admiring the sample art on the walls. While I have a selection of flash designs available, I prefer to sketch custom designs for my clients. Many of them view tattoos as a form of catharsis and a way to heal from a traumatic experience. Creating something that holds special meaning is oftentimes part of that process.

“You have a gift,” Reese says over her shoulder.

“So do you.” I motion to her white sneakers decorated with sunflowers. “I’ve noticed you have quite the collection.”

A blush spreads across her cheeks. “In seventh grade, my grandpa took me shoe shopping, and I saw a pair of expensive sneakers with a floral print that I liked. When he found a pair of discounted white ones in my size, he suggested we draw our own designs on them. He said I’d be the coolest kid in school for having a custom pair of sneakers.” She glances down at the pair she’s wearing. “I’ve been adding floral designs to my sneakers ever since.

“You’re a natural, Reese. The flowers are incredible.” I take out the tattoo machine, ink, and a few additional supplies I need for my appointment, arranging them on the tray I’ve set up on the counter.

Reese blushes. “Thank you. What about you? How did you discover your passion for drawing?”

“Growing up in foster care had its challenges, but drawing was my escape. My sketchbook became my voice, a place where I could express the things I couldn’t say out loud.” I sit on my stool, inserting a new needle into the tattoo machine. “As a teenager, I got into some trouble. There were occasions I wasn’t permitted to draw, and it felt like losing a part of myself.” I swallow hard as I push aside the painful memories.

“Have you ever been in prison?” Reese blurts out.

I can’t help but burst out laughing. “Isn’t that a question you should have asked before you slept with me?” I playfully tease.

After all these years, I can’t believe that rumor is still making the rounds.

“Well?” she demands.

“No, Red, I’ve never been to prison. I did a few stints in juvie, though. The first time I was wrongly accused of stealing, but I was guilty for the rest. Colby was my public defender for the last case and was one of the few people who saw a side of me that wasn’t my rap sheet.”

Reese saunters toward me, stepping in between my legs. She winds her hands around my neck, her fingers weaving into my hair. “Why does the fact that you were a rebel make you that much sexier?”

I gaze up at her, a smirk playing on my lips. “I prefer the term misunderstood artist. When we get back to my place, I’ll have to show you how rebellious I still am.” I wrap my arm around her waist, cupping her ass, reveling in the small squeal that escapes her lips when I tug her closer. “Any more questions?”

“Did you ever consider becoming a tattoo artist full-time? Before you were a lawyer?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t start tattooing until after law school, and I don’t charge my tattoo clients for their ink.”

“You don’t charge them?” Reese sounds surprised.

“No. Most of them have scars they want to conceal and are looking to cover up painful memories. Or are ex-convicts wanting a symbol of redemption. It’s rewarding to help others reclaim their power and help them heal from their past experiences.”

For me tattooing is a way to give back to the community and create a positive change in people’s lives who otherwise might not have an outlet for self-expression.

Before Reese can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps has her moving my hands from her ass and taking a step back. I look up just in time to see Christian running into my station.

“Hey, Dawson.” He throws his arms around me.

“Good to see you, kid,” I say, ruffling his hair.

“Christian, honey, give Dawson some space,” Seren says as she steps inside. “It’s good to see you, Dawson.” Seren gives me a grateful smile. “Thanks for giving Christian those Mavericks tickets, that was very generous of you.”

“Of course.”

Reese is standing in the corner of the station, watching our interaction with curiosity. She isn’t accustomed to seeing me interact with the people I’m closest to. She’s only seen me in the office where I’m gruff and demanding with my employees.

“This is Reese.” I tell Christian and Seren.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seren says, giving her a wave.

“Christian, why don’t you take a seat over there while I work on your mom’s tattoo?” I gesture to one of the folding chairs I set up earlier.

“I’ll hang with you if that’s okay.” Reese smiles.

Christian shrugs. “Sure.”

While they get settled, Seren slips off her jacket and hangs it on the rack in the corner. She’s wearing a black tank top underneath, leaving her arm exposed for easy access. Her tattoo spans from her left wrist to her forearm — delicate vines and blooming flowers wrapped around a broken chain. During our last session I added mid-tones to bring the flowers to life, so all there’s left to do is the shading.

Before getting started, I wash my hands, put on disposable gloves, and settle in my seat. As I examine the tattoo, I map out the final additions to incorporate a dimensional effect. I switch on the tattoo machine, steadying my hand with the familiar weight of the vibration against my palm.

Seren rests her head against the chair when I start, her eyes falling shut. She’s told me that she finds this process therapeutic—the hum of the needle turns a painful memory into a beautiful and empowering symbol of resilience. After all she’s sacrificed, I’m glad she’s doing this for herself.

Halfway through I pause, standing to stretch out my neck and roll out my shoulders. I glance over to see Reese on the other side of the station with my sketchpad in her lap. Her lip is tucked between her teeth as she sketches what appears to be an orchid. Christian leans over her shoulder, captivated by the strokes of her pencil as each line brings the flower to life. Like me, Reese uses her art as a way to find peace amidst the chaos, letting her creativity guide her to a calmer place.

Seren opens her eyes, her gaze darting between Reese and me. “She’s really pretty,” Seren whispers so only I can hear. “I’m glad you’ve found someone. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks.” I give her a tight smile, deciding not to tell her that Reese isn’t mine. Though the more time we spend together, the more I wish she were.

I turn my attention back to finishing Seren’s tattoo, the alternative soundtrack Mickey has on in the shop providing the only background noise. Once I’m done, I clean the inked skin, apply ointment, and carefully wrap it.

“All set,” I announce.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Seren says, gazing down at her arm. “Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

“Positive.”

She gets out of her chair to grab her things. “Christian, you ready to go?”

He snaps his head up from watching Reese draw. “Guess what. Reese says she’ll draw me a design on those white sneakers Dawson got me last month, how cool is that?”

“That’s so nice of you to offer,” Seren says to Reese.

“I’m happy to do it,” Reese assures her with a genuine smile.

It’s heartwarming to watch her interact with some of the people who matter most to me. Her ease with the situation makes me grateful to have her here. Not everyone would be comfortable spending their afternoon with a teenager they didn’t know while I tattooed his mom.

“Can I go say bye to Mickey?” Christian asks Seren. “He promised he’d give me a soda once we finished.”

“Sure. I’ll go with you.” She tucks her coat under her arm. “Thanks again, Dawson, and it was so good to meet you, Reese.”

“You too.” Reese waves goodbye as Seren slips out of my station.

Once they’re out of view, Reece approaches. “Her tattoo is stunning,” she murmurs. “I couldn’t help but notice the scars. What happened to her?”

“Her ex-boyfriend used her as a human ashtray.” I keep my voice lowered. “He’s in prison now and will never hurt her or Christian again.”

I’ve made sure of it.

A friend at the district attorney’s office pressed charges a couple of years ago when damning evidence conveniently surfaced, linking Seren’s ex to a drug trafficking ring.

“Christian and Seren are lucky to have you in their life.” Reese chews her bottom lip, lost in thought. “Hey, Dawson?” she asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come with me to visit my grandma? Her name’s Georgia.” She holds her breath while waiting for me to reply.

I place my hand over hers. “Are you sure, Red? If you’d prefer to go alone, we can meet up for dinner after.”

One way or another, we’re spending the rest of the weekend together, but I’m not about to force her to introduce me to her grandma if she’s not ready.

“Yes, I am,” Reese states confidently. “Grams will be excited to meet you.”

I arrive at Oak Ridge an hour later with a bouquet of red roses. Reese took a rideshare over earlier. Noah is the only guy she’s introduced to her grandma so she wanted to tell her about me before I got here.

The receptionist at the front desk directs me to Georgia’s room, and I knock softly when I get there.

“Come in,” Reese calls out.

I open the door to find her sitting at her grandmother’s side by the window.

“You must be Dawson.” Georgia holds out her hand. “Reese, you didn’t tell me he was so handsome.”

Reese’s cheeks flush. “Let’s not inflate his ego any further.”

Georgia’s lips curve into a sly grin. “From the looks of him, it’s not the only thing that’s impossible to ignore, but you’d know best, now wouldn’t you, sweetheart.”

“Oh. My. God . Grams.” Reese covers her mouth with her hand. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

Georgia waves her off. “At my age, I’ve earned the right to speak my mind. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I’ve only been here a minute, and I’m already a big fan of Reese’s grandma.

I hold out the bouquet of roses for Georgia. “These are for you.”

“Handsome and a gentleman.” She grins, setting the flowers on the side table next to her.

I scan the room, taking in my surroundings. It’s spacious, decorated with several personal touches, including a hand-stitched quilt on the bed, a curio cabinet displaying an array of tea sets, and a bureau lined with a collection of gold picture frames.

Several of the photos show Georgia and a man looking lovingly into each other’s eyes, along with others that include Reese alongside them. On the far end, there is a photograph with a young woman who bears a striking resemblance to Reese. The woman is seated on the front porch of Reese’s house. Her gaze, brimming with happiness, is directed at the baby she’s cradling in her lap.

“That’s Jodi, Reese’s mom,” Georgia says from her recliner, her voice taking on a wistful tone. “That picture was taken a week after she brought Reese home from the hospital. We were taken with her from day one.”

I turn to Reese. “You look just like her,” I observe.

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of Jodi,” Georgia adds. “But when I look at my Reese, I see a piece of her mom and it brings me so much peace.” She gives Reese a loving glance, her eyes glistening with unspoken memories.

“Love you, Grams,” Reese says.

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Georgia replies. She briefly glances at her watch, her expression changing to urgency. “We better get going or we’ll be late.”

“Where are we going exactly?” I ask.

Reese never mentioned a field trip.

“Oak Ridge has a weekly bingo night for residents and their families, and I never miss it,” Georgia says enthusiastically. “Tonight is special—I’ve never brought two guests before.” She beams.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?” Reese winks playfully.

“Oh honey, you’re more than enough, but who could pass up the chance to bring along some eye candy. The other ladies will be talking about it for days.”

“You hear that, Dawson? You’re the eye candy ,” Reese taunts.

“Maybe my charm will throw them off their game and I’ll win a round or two.” I wink.

“Don’t let Ms. Werther from across the hall hear you say that,” Georgia warns me. “She considers herself the top contender for that title.”

“I have to go grab something. I’ll be right back.” Reese gets out of her chair and disappears into the attached bedroom.

When she’s out of earshot, I lean in closer to Georgia, resting my arm on her chair. “I want you to know I’m interested in your granddaughter,” I explain in a whisper. “Have any advice for me?”

Georgia raises an eyebrow with a dry laugh. “What makes you think you’re good enough for her? Your fancy job and deep pockets might impress some people, but not me, and most certainly not Reese.”

It’s clear that Reese is the most important person in Georgia’s life, and I like that she doesn’t sugarcoat her reservations in order to protect her granddaughter.

“There’s no question Reese is too good for me” I openly admit. “But if I was lucky enough to call her mine someday, I’d make sure she was safe, happy and cherished”

Georgia gives me a skeptical look, like she’s weighing whether to believe me or not. “If my husband were still here, he’d make sure you understood the repercussions of hurting Reese. As it stands, you’ll have to deal with me,” she states, her tone firm. “I may be an old lady, but don’t underestimate me.” Just when I think she’s going to tell me to get lost she crooks her finger for me to come closer. “But if I were to offer a word of advice, I might recommend flowers. Reese is a romantic at heart and appreciates thoughtful gestures. Her grandfather used to bring us flowers every Friday and it was one of her favorite things.”

Sending flowers to Reese’s desk was a stroke of luck. Now that I know she likes mindful gestures, I’ll have to find more ways to show her that I care.

Before I can respond to Georgia, Reese comes back into the living room, triumphantly holding up a canvas bag.

“I got the dabbers,” she exclaims. “Ready to go?”

“The what?” If it wasn’t already obvious that I’ve never played bingo before, it sure as hell is now.

“You’ll see,” Georgia says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You’re in for a fun evening.”

Reese is sexy as hell with a neon orange dabber gripped tightly in her hand, a look of concentration on her face whenever the host hollers out a new number. Her eyes light up with excitement every time she’s able to block out another square.

Georgia and Reese are serious about this game. Our table is lined with rows of dabbers they brought from Georgia’s room. Each one has a unique pattern or image, from polka dots to cartoon faces, and some even have disco ball caps.

“BINGO,” Reese shouts at the top of her lungs, waving her card in the air. She turns to Georgia with a grin. “I won again.”

It’s refreshing to see her so carefree. Georgia is her entire world and I’m grateful she allowed me a peek into this side of her life.

Georgia tilts her head with a subtle smirk. “You won’t be so lucky during the next round, sweetheart,” she teases. Several other residents cheer Reese on as she jogs up to the front of the room so the game host can examine her card.

“Is she always this competitive?”

“Absolutely. She got it from her grandfather. He made everything into a game when she was growing up.” Georgia pushes aside her bingo card and takes a new one from the center of the table. “He passed away six years ago.”

I place my hand over hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She pats my hand, giving me a soft smile. “I appreciate it. We were together for forty years, and it was an adjustment moving on without him.” Her smile wavers. “During Reese’s first semester of college, I slipped and fell, and she was ready to quit school to take care of me full time. I wasn’t going to let that happen, so when a friend mentioned how great this facility was, I jumped at the chance to move here.”

“I’m sure it was difficult for you to leave your house.”

Georgia scoffs. “George did a wonderful job maintaining it while he was alive, but that place has always been a fixer-upper. I wish Reese would consider selling it. The property is worth more than the house, and she could put the money toward her education.” She leans in closer and speaks in a whisper. “I’m not naive. She may not have told me, but it’s obvious she’s stretching herself thin. She’s wanted to be a lawyer since she was a child, and I worry she might miss her chance.”

I give Georgia’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Mark my words, Reese will become a lawyer as long as that’s what she wants.”

I mean it. Even if she decides she no longer wants anything to do with me, I’ll make sure has the resources to achieve her goals. After everything she’s been through, she deserves to chase her dreams.

Georgia pats my cheek. “You’re a good man, Dawson.”

“Don’t go around telling anyone, I have a reputation to uphold,” I say with a playful grin.

Before she can respond, Reese comes back to our table with a soft blush-colored blanket. “Look what I won—” She holds it up triumphantly. “This is for you, Grams. I know you’ve been getting cold at night, so you can put this over your feet.” She hands the blanket to Georgia. “It’s not the cashmere one you’ve been wanting, but I hope it’ll do for now.”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Thanks for thinking of me.” Georgia presses a kiss to Reese’s cheek.

Their interaction displays the genuine love they have for each other. Reese is attentive to even the smallest details and Georgia’s love for her granddaughter goes beyond the norm.

It’s clear that Reese has put aside her own needs to make sure her grandma is well taken care of and to keep the house where her grandparents lived their whole marriage. It makes me want to do whatever I can to lighten her load.

She’d never let me remodel her house, but there must be other ways I can help to make her life easier. As I glance around the room filled with Oak Ridge residents an idea begins to take shape. The more I think about it, the better it sounds. However, if I move forward, there are logistics that will need to be ironed out. In the meantime, I want to do something just for Reese this weekend. A chance to get away for a day without any responsibilities or interruptions, giving her a well-deserved break.

The bingo host instructs everyone to clear their boards so a new game can begin. Reese and Georgia get their dabbers ready, and I take it as my chance to make an important call.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Reese.

“Sounds good,” she says.

Once I’m in the hallway, I dial Harrison’s number. It only rings twice before he picks up.

“This is Harrison,” he answers coldly.

“I need to use my first favor,” I state.

“Right now? I’m a little busy,” Harrison grunts.

“It has to be done tomorrow,” I say, glancing through the door at Reese, who’s laughing at something Georgia said.

“Fuck, you’re serious.”

“You did tell me I could cash them in whenever I wanted,” I remind him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he mutters. “My brothers and I will take care of it.” I hear voices in the background.

“I’ll text you the details.” I hang up and shoot a quick text to the private jet charter I use.

With careful planning and Harrison’s help, tomorrow will be perfect. Now I just have to break the news to Reese that she’ll be spending the rest of the weekend with me and hope she agrees to go with me.