Playing With Fire (Grindstone Harbor, #2)

by Cat Mason

  “Mhm,” Bristol hums, walking into Tage’s arms. “We ran into Vicki. Then my fist ran into her lying fucking face. Several times.” She flashes a huge smile. “The scrubs are because,” she swallows hard. “Blood.”

  “Yep,” Greer says, holding up the plastic bag filled with Bristol’s clothes. “Killer here even managed to stay conscious.”

  “Barely,” she admits, shrugging a shoulder. “I figured since we’d reached our fainting quota for the day I had to keep my shit together.”

  Tage and Evan look to Greer and me, then back to Bristol. “Damn,” E mutters, sounding disappointed. He shoots a hard glare at Tage. “You just had to drag my ass down here, didn’t you? Girl fights never happen around here. We’ve missed the badass bitch beatdown version of Haley’s Comet over some shitty vending machine coffee.”

  “It was a damn good show,” I admit, earning a middle finger from Evan. “We also decided to take the offer from EWP.”

  Looking over at Evan, Bristol blinks slowly. “That means you un-quit, dickhead,” she says, then launches into a rundown of our conversation with Boyer, as well as the highlights of her hallway smackdown with Vicki.”

  “That fucking bitch.” Blowing out a breath, he looks up at the ceiling. “This whole thing was a power play for Boyer’s job?”

  “Oh yeah,” Greer blurts. “Greedy bitch was setting us all this up for months. As soon as she could throw Boyer under the bus, she was gonna swoop in to save the day. My guess is the board will boot them both after the dust settles. This opens up a can of worms with everyone Vicki’s worked with. It’s hard to tell what other shit she’s pulled.”

  “Everything’s settled now though, right?” Tage asks. “With you guys?”

  “Almost,” I admit, shifting the subject to the real reason I wanted everyone together. “I’ve spent a lot of my life making excuses for why I didn’t deserve the one thing I’ve always wanted. Truth is, I don’t. There’ll never be one second where I’ll believe Quinn doesn’t deserve better than what she gets from me. I love her so fucking much that I’d rip out my heart and lay it in her hands.”

  “Dear God,” Bristol groans, pressing her face into Tage’s chest. “Can you profess your undying love without using blood references? Please and thank you.”

  Yanking my wallet out of my back pocket, I fish out the two things that sit behind the picture I carry of her. Shoving it back in my pocket, I sit the ring down on the table. “Seriously?” Evan’s eyes snap up to mine, narrowing into barely there slits. “If you think you can rush out and buy a ring and expect Quinn to marry you because she’s—”

  “It doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with the baby,” I bite out, stopping him mid-sentence. Unfolding the piece of paper in my hand, I toss it down beside the ring.

  Bristol releases Tage. Snatching the receipt off the table, she gasps. “Really?” she sniffles, meeting my eyes. I nod. Passing the receipt to Greer, she curses when she loses the battle with her tears. “He bought the freaking thing with our first payout from Frayed Edge Records. Over five years ago.” Shoving around the table, she slaps me in the chest. “You mean bastard. I hope you’re happy.” She hugs me tight. “You broke me. I’m officially crying like a little bitch.”

  Wrapping an arm around Bristol, I blow out a breath. “You’re her family. My family. Before I ask her to be my wife, I need to know I’ve got your blessing. Not for me,” I explain, my eyes stopping on Evan. “For her. Because more than I love that woman, more than I want her to be mine for the rest of my life, I can’t knowingly ask her to marry me if there’s a chance it could ever cause her pain or regret later due to something I can fix. She loves you, Evan. I don’t have to like it or even understand it. And, yes, if the baby is yours it’s going to hurt like a bitch knowin’ how much I want all of that with her. What I’m gonna do is get right with it and find a way to handle whatever comes when he’s born. I’m not doing that for me or you, I’ll do that for her and the baby. I also need you to know for me, home isn’t an apartment in California, or the house I grew up in. It’s Quinn. Which means, if you and Greer need to beat my ass in the parking lot or threaten me every single day for the rest of our lives, I’m good with it. Just know you’ll never have to carry a single one them out.”

  “Son of a slut,” Bristol whimpers, pushing out of my arms. “Okay, you smooth son of a bitch. We get it. You love her. Damn it all to hell. You just had to keep going until all my makeup ran off my face and into my shoes, didn’t you?” Swiping at her face, she turns to Tage. “My eyes won’t stop leaking!” she sobs, walking back into his embrace. “I can’t with this shit.”

  “I know, babe,” he laughs, squeezing her tight.

  Evan glances at the receipt in Greer’s hand. Cutting his eyes to me, he rounds the table, his face unreadable. “Five years,” he says. “That’s a long fuckin’ time to carry this around.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I agree, knowing I kick myself every day for not making my move sooner.

  “Would you wait another five?” he asks, stopping in front of me. “If you ask her and she tells you she’s not ready. That she needs space. You gonna step back and give that to her?” I nod, even though I know hearing her say that would gut me. “Don’t.” Yanking a hand through his hair, she grins. His answer shocks me. “You do, it won’t be G or me bustin’ your head.” He chuckles. “It’ll be her.”

  “She could take him too,” Greer laughs. “She’s done it before.”

  “My grandfather lived his entire life on an Ojibwe Rez,” Evan begins. “Growing up, he taught me women are where we pull our strength. Whether or not they’re our soul mates, the women we care about, are meant to be cherished. Protected. I’ll always be that for Bristol and Quinn. Doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with romance. That’s family.” I nod in understanding. I get it. Regardless of my jealousy over their relationship, I get what he’s saying now. His body relaxes. “Okay.” Grabbing my shoulder, he claps me on the back. He looks to Greer, then to Tage, who is comforting a still crying Bristol and chuckles. Turning, he swipes the ring from the table, handing it to me.

  “Okay?”

  He nods. “We’re good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Punk Rock Boy Band

  Quinn

  “I can’t believe you tore her a new ass and I wasn’t there to see it,” I growl at my best friend. “Did she cower in fear? Beg for her life?” I ask, clasping my hands together and bouncing a little on the plush leather seat of the limo that picked Bristol and I up from the hotel earlier today to take us to a day spa. Cam had called this morning, demanded that we go spend the day and do nothing but relax. We didn’t argue.

  “There was fear,” Bristol admits, tapping her nails on her thigh thoughtfully. “No begging. That bitch was too drunk for that shit. At one point, I’d thought she may have swallowed her tongue”

  “I’m with E on this,” I grumble. “It’s offensive no one thought to record it for the rest of us.”

  Things have been different since I was released from the hospital yesterday morning. Everyone seems calmer. The tension hanging around all of us has all but faded. Things feel almost normal again. Even Tanner and Evan are getting along. I briefly wondered if this was a coma induced hallucination. My contemplation lasted about two seconds before I decided that if it is, no one better wake me up.

  Oddly enough, Jazz, being our new manager and handler of all things, extended our stay in Nashville a few extra days. She explained that it would give her time to get some contract issues drawn up and allow her to get a schedule set up with Cam-Ron at recording studio back in Michigan before we fly out. She said we should take the time to rest and enjoy the city. I’m also pretty sure it was because no one wanted me on the plane until they were sure I wasn’t going to pass out at thirty thousand feet.

  I’m never gonna live that shit down.

  “Where are we going?” I ask Bristol, noticing we are headed in the opposite direction of our hotel. “Is he taking
us downtown?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m not driving.” Crossing one leg over the other, she sits back in the seat, humming to herself. Grinning like a fucking asshole.

  “Really?” I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She continues to hum. “Fine. Ignore me. I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do,” she says, calling me out.

  The limo stops outside a spot I recognize immediately. The door opens, our driver, Cedric, holding out his hand to help me out. The corner we played on years ago looks completely different during the day. The crowds of people walking the sidewalks are significantly smaller, than the droves packing the streets after dark. “Quinnie,” Bristol nudges me and points up to the steps, where all four guys are watching us.

  Tage and E are standing a few feet away from my brother and Tanner. Greer is sitting on a concrete riser, holding one those wooden percussion boxes he loves so much. Tanner, wearing faded blue jeans and the Shaft shirt I sleep in, is holding my acoustic guitar, minus my lucky pink strap. “Hey, guys. What are we doing here?”

  Instead of an answer, Greer starts banging out a beat, with Tanner coming in seconds later. Eyes on me, Tanner stays where he is, belting out a gritty version of Lady Antebellum’s I Run To You. His voice is raspy, deep, wrapping around me like it always does. “Oh my God,” I gasp, looking over at Bristol. “What’s happening?”

  Looping her arm with mine, she flashes me a grin. “Tanner’s raisin’ the fuckin’ bar,” she informs me, before nudging my cheek back in their direction. Tanner starts toward us, repeating the chorus again, only this time Greer, Tage, and E back him up. “You made my fiancé sing?” Bristol laughs, jumping up and down beside me. “Oh my God! You started a punk rock boy band for a proposal. A punk rock boy band, singing a cover of a country song. Someone better be recording this.”

  Handing my guitar to her, Tanner drops to his knee in front of me and the guys stop playing and singing. “What are you doing?” I blurt. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m crazy about you,” he says, looking up at me through his lashes. “Let me spend the rest of my life loving you, running to you, giving you all the pieces of me that you should’ve had all along. You’re my heart, Quinn. My home. I knew it five years ago, when I bought this ring.” Digging in his pocket, he holds up the most beautiful diamond ring I’ve ever seen. “That hasn’t changed for a single second since. Marry me, Quinn.”

  I’d marry you tomorrow, babe.

  Sometimes you just know.

  His words from the other day come rushing back, repeating over and over in my head. I feel each word so strongly, every one wrapping around my heart.

  “This is so fast,” I breathe, locking my knees so I don’t collapse.

  “Do you love me?” he asks, searching my eyes.

  “Of course, I love you, Tanner.”

  “You think that’s gonna change?” he asks, making my stomach drop. The very thought of that physically hurts.

  “What? No, you jackass!” I shout, shoving his shoulder. “Why the hell would you ask something so... Ugh. You jerk.” I shove him again. “No, that’s not gonna change.”

  He smiles knowingly. “You love me. I love you. That isn’t changing. Dig deep, babe. We both know this is right.” Taking my hand, he slides the ring onto my finger. “Fuck some time frame. We never play by the rules anyway.” His grin widens when I laugh softly. “You’re mine. I’m yours. I’ll be damned if I’ll pretend I haven’t wanted to ask you to marry me every day since you were a kid on my handlebars.”

  “Dammit, Tanner,” Bristol sobs beside me. “I told you to cut the shit out.” Stomping over to the guys, she smacks E in the chest with my guitar. “Assholes making my skin splotchy. I just had a fucking facial!”

  “We’re getting married,” I breathe, looking down at Tanner again. Tears streaming down my face, I nod. “Holy shit! We’re getting married!”

  “We know!” Bristol yells, swiping at her tears and flipping me off. “Can you kiss and shut the fuck up already?”

  Laughing, Tanner pushes to his feet. “You’re marrying me,” he breathes, cupping my face in his hands.

  “I’m marrying you,” I manage to get out before his lips crush down on mine.

  Pulling me tightly to him, he nearly lifts me off the ground. Smiling against my mouth, he pulls back, but doesn’t release me. “Today,” he breathes. “Marry me today.”

  “Now I know you’re crazy,” I gasp, my eyes dropping to his lips. “Here? Now? Without our parents and wearing jeans?”

  “We’re less than a mile away from the clerk’s office,” he explains. “We can have a license and be married today in a city you love. A place that means something to both of us. You wanna give the parentals a party later. Fuck it, we’ll throw some big ass deal. I don’t give a shit. Whatever you want. The people who matter most are already right here,” he says, jerking his chin toward Bristol and the guys. “I planned everything. There’s even a present for you waiting.”

  “You’re gonna marry him so hard!” Bristol shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Ball the fuck up and say yes already!”

  “Yes.” The word rushes out of me. “Yes. Let’s go. Let’s get married.”

  Not wanting to negotiate the traffic in downtown Nashville in a limo for less than a mile, we hand off my guitar and Greer’s percussion board to Cedric and ask him to meet us there, before huffing it on foot to get our asses married. Rounding the corner, I stumble in shock when I see the people standing outside. Before I fall on my face, Tanner snags my arm, pulling me into his side. Jazz, Hunter and Chase are standing at the bottom of the steps, surrounded by the rest of the Shaft crew and a whole shit load of kids ranging in ages from what looks like around ten to late teens.

  “There they are,” Hunter says, then gestures to Tanner’s shirt. “Somethin’ old?”

  “And borrowed,” I chime in, knowing that was safely tucked away in my suitcase.

  “And borrowed,” Tanner agrees, smiling down at me. “From the woman who stole it and my heart.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask, glancing up at Tanner. “When did you do all this?”

  “Looked shit up online at the hospital,” he explained. “Asked Bristol and the guys while you were sleepin’. They helped me pull off the performance. As for the audience,” he chuckles. “That was all Jazz’s idea.”

  “Technically, it was mine,” Hunter corrects him. “You’re lookin’ at EWP’s very own ordained frontman.”

  “You’re kidding,” Bristol blurts, stopping behind me. “You’re a minister?”

  “I never kid about shit like this,” he says proudly. “None of these assholes wouldn’t let me do their ceremonies. Hell, half of ‘em eloped at a damn chapel in Vegas. Myself,” he grins. “I did it up in style on a private island. Fun, sun, and some sexy sexy beachside lovin’.”

  “Hunter Chesterfield is marrying us today?” I ask, trying not to smile.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing that’s happening today that I didn’t plan,” Tanner chuckles. “Besides, it’ll make a hell of a story for the baby book.”

  Tanner thought of everything. He grabbed the paperwork we carry when we travel. Luckily, it had everything we need for the clerk to approve our marriage license. It takes what feels like forever before we are walking back out front, where we left everyone waiting. On the steps, Bristol holds two bouquets of pink and white roses. Handing me the bigger of the two, she squeezes me tight. “Indifference is beautiful,” she teases, reminding me of how far Tanner and I have come in the last several months. “I’m so happy for you, Quinnie.”

  “Thanks, B.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Hunter says, holding up both hands. Laughing, I look to Tanner. “We’re gathered here on this set of concrete steps to join Tanner Hewitt and Quinn Baker in holy matrimony. Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  “We do,” Greer, Evan, and Bristol say in unison. “No returns,” Evan adds, making everyone laugh.


  “Marriage is the greatest commitment you will ever enter into,” Hunter continues. “You’re admitting you’re simply a better person by joining your life with the other. It’s a connection like no other, a unity that will give you the greatest comfort in times of struggle. You’ll be each other’s best friend and other half. You’re joining your hearts and your lives, ‘til death do you part.”

  “That was badass, Pops,” Jazz says, totally impressed.

  “Like there was any doubt.” He flashes a smile to people gathering on the street to take pictures. “Say hi to YouTube!” he shouts, waving both hands quickly, before turning back to us. “Do you have your own vows?”

  Tanner nods. Turning to me, he takes my hands in his. “Quinn, there aren’t words that come close to explaining how much I love you, but I plan to spend the rest of my life trying to find them. I’m a basic man, in love with an extraordinary woman. You make everything brighter, warmer, sweeter. You’re my light. My fire. You hold every piece of my heart.” Sliding a gold band onto my finger, he looks up at me and licks his lips. “You always have.”

  “Tanner,” I choke out, fighting a losing battle with my tears again. “You’re my calm when I feel like the world is raging around me. Your arms, that sweet smile you only give to me, those freaking dimples that make my knees weak,” I laugh softly. “They just make everything better. Thank you for waiting. For being the one to fight for us when I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” Letting go of one of his hands, I run my fingers over his jaw, smiling when he leans into my touch. “For being silly, crazy, beautiful. Thank you for loving me, even when I throw people’s breakfast food and break shit.” Everyone around us laughs again. “Most of all, thank you for building that bridge back to me. Even when I was afraid to let you try.” Bristol nudges me and holds up a gold band for Tanner. Taking it, I slip it onto his finger, my eyes staying locked on his. “I do,” I say softly. “Today, tomorrow, and for as long as life gives us.”