by RB Hilliard
“You got it,” Sampson said with a giant grin on his face. I let out a groan of frustration and both Grant and Sampson laughed. Chaz remained silent.
No one said a word for the rest of the short ride to the bar. Grant’s hair was damp from his shower and he’d changed into a short sleeved shirt and a different pair of jeans. His clean scent stole my breath and I pretended not to feel every hard inch of him pressed against me. Believe me, there was a lot to ignore. The minute we pulled into the parking lot and the car stopped, I was out the door and trying to regain my composure. So much for distance and perspective. Before I could bolt, I found myself pinned against the side of the car.
“Give us a minute guys,” Grant told them.
As soon as everyone was out of earshot, I hissed, “Let me go.” When he lifted his arms I started after them, but he reeled me back in with a chuckle.
Not humored in the least bit, I said, “Look, I’m all for pretending to be your girlfriend when we have an audience but this really isn’t necessary.”
“We always have an audience, Mallory. Even when I’m not being watched I am. How much do you want to bet we have cameras on us right now?” His low throaty tone made me physically ache. The feeling was unsettling and distracting. Why was he doing this to me?
After scanning the parking lot for hidden cameras, I said, “This isn’t a game to me, Grant.” I made sure to keep my voice low, just in case.
“Did you sleep with Chaz?” he asked.
My eyes snapped to his. “Are you kidding me?” Here I was worried about prying eyes and he was asking about Chaz.
“Answer the question, Mallory.”
“Did you sleep with Chelle?” I countered.
Pressing both palms flat on the car on either side of my head, he leaned his hips in and speared me with his very impressive erection. “Does this feel like a game to you?”
Not sure what to do, I did the only thing I could think of. I pretended not to feel him pressed against me. I pretended I didn’t want what he was offering, when I did. God, I really, really did. He leveled his amber colored stare at me and I tried to scramble for the right words to convey what I was feeling. “This is my job, Grant. When Kirkland finds out that I’m not doing what he’s paying me to do he’ll fire me. If I get fired from a job in my first year it will tank my career. No matter what feelings I might have for you this…cannot happen.”
“You have feelings for me?” Of course that would be the one thing he heard.
“I can’t lose my job,” I slowly repeated.
He hesitated for a second and I was relieved to see he was at least contemplating my words. With one last thrust of his hips he stepped back and said, “Okay.”
Relief whipped through me, followed by disappointment. “Okay?”
“Yes, okay. Tomorrow precisely at ten in the morning we will meet for our first session.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I tried to tell him.
His gaze hardened. “You don’t want to lose your job, correct?”
With a nod of my head, I reluctantly agreed.
“Well, I can’t lose mine either and, if word gets out about who you are and what you’re doing on tour with me, that’s exactly what will happen.”
I threw up my hands in frustration. “So what now?”
He held out his hand and smiled. “Now you’re my girlfriend. Tomorrow you can be my therapist.” He wiggled his outstretched fingers at me. With a loud sigh I took his hand and let him steer me up the steps past Marcel and Hank and inside the bar. I wasn’t sure who won that round but something told me it wasn’t me.
The moment we walked through the door we received a crash course on who was who. Dillon’s wife, Isabella, was tall with long dark hair. She was equally as beautiful as her husband and very pregnant. Kurt’s tiny fairy of a wife, Joss, was also stunning and very pregnant. Max’s Ellie was absolutely perfect for him. I loved how he watched every move she made and how she pretended to be oblivious to it. I finally met Gage and his wife Piper. Like the rest of the guys, Gage was sexy hot with his sandy brown hair and goatee. Piper had long reddish blonde hair and was loud and hilariously funny. The women were smitten with the band and I could tell some of the guys were somewhat star-struck as well. Grant was by my side for most of the night, and I had to admit I enjoyed hanging out with him. He was smart, funny and gorgeous, which was a lethal combination in my book. We’d been there about an hour when Cas’s girlfriend, Sarah, asked the guys to perform a few songs for the group.
Grant tilted his head down and quietly asked, “Do you mind?”
The fact that he asked me made me choke on my drink. “Of course I don’t mind,” I sputtered.
He stared at me for a long second while I wondered what he was thinking. After wiping the water off my chin, he said, “Be right back,” and planted a kiss on my lips. As he walked away he left me with my heart in my throat. At this point I was thoroughly confused and done with trying to figure him out.
Sarah and Piper sidled up next to me and Piper began fanning herself. “Good Lord that man is fiiiiiiine,” she drawled. She was not wrong. We watched the guys set up on the small stage. When they were situated Grant sat on a tall stool and began strumming his guitar. “Please tell me he’s an animal in bed?” Piper asked under her breath.
“Piper!” Sarah scolded.
“What?” she huffed, “Look at him up there. He’s Grant Fucking Hardy. I want to know if he’s as good as he looks.”
That was the problem. Grant was so much more than a man on a stool singing a pretty song. Did no one else see this? I was frustrated beyond words. The more I fought it, the harder I fell. If I didn’t put on the brakes I was going to end up with a broken heart.
I was contemplating skipping the show in favor of some fresh air when Grant’s voice rang out, “This one’s for Mallory.” Piper and Sarah both smiled at me and clapped. All I could do was stare at the man on the stage as he began singing, “I’m looking for a hard headed woman. One who will take me for myself, and if I find my hard headed woman, I will need nobody else, no, no…”
As Grant sang about finding his hard headed woman and the rest of his life being blessed, Piper leaned over and asked, “Are you okay?” It took me a minute to realize I had tears running down my face. Why was he doing this to me?
Damn you Grant Hardy.
I had just enough time to wipe the tears before the song was over and everyone was staring at me and cheering. I pretended to be flustered when what I really felt was confused. Thank God Luke began playing the chords for Burn it Down. After Burn it Down they launched into Avalanche. Three songs later they were through and we were saying our goodbyes. I tried to evade Grant, but he just wrapped his arm around me and pretended this was the norm.
We got back to the hotel around midnight and, like a perfect gentleman, Grant walked me to my room. Of course, we were escorted by Hank but I barely noticed him there. I guess that’s what happens when you get used to always having security around.
As we paused outside my door, Grant leaned in to kiss me. I placed my fingers over his lips and asked, “What game are you playing, Grant?”
Ignoring my question, he smiled and said, “Go to bed, babe. If you need anything I’m right next door.” He held out his hand for Hank to give him his room key and I felt caught. I was caught between desire and self-preservation. Why was I fighting this so hard? “To bed, babe,” he repeated. Then he touched his lips gently to mine.
When he pulled back, I said, “Grant?”
“Yes?”
I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. “Thanks for tonight. The song was…inaccurate but still wonderful.”
He let out a loud bark of laughter. Then with a wink and a smile he walked into his hotel room and I was left standing at my door with my hotel key in one hand and a fistful of regrets in the other.
“Goodnight Mallory,” Hank said.
As I watched Hank walk inside Grant’s room and close t
he door, I whispered, “Goodnight Hank,” to the empty hallway.
Chapter Seventeen
Who Says Counseling Can’t Be Fun?
Grant
Mallory Scott was quickly becoming my obsession. She was real and unlike any woman I’d ever known. She was also a runner. I could see it in her eyes each time I got close. If I rushed her or didn’t handle her with care she would bolt. While I was trying to find a way in, she was busy planning her exit strategy. With anyone else I would cut my losses and walk away, but this was Mallory. I wanted her and I was sick and damn tired of pretending I didn’t.
“Have you given Mallory the bottle yet?” Hank asked.
Swiping two beers from the fridge, I carried them to the living area where he sat waiting. I handed him his and set mine on the table. Then I disappeared into the bedroom to retrieve the bottle of Oxy he’d delivered to my room earlier that day. As I plopped the bottle down beside my beer we both stared at it. Would Mallory be able to trace it back to the person who tried to kill me? I sure as hell hoped so.
“Why would Kirkland go to such extremes just to rein me in?” I asked out loud.
“If Kirkland loses you he loses Meltdown. I mean, seriously, everyone in the industry knows that Happenstance is as much yours as Blane’s. I bet when the old man discovered that little nugget it really stuck in his craw.”
I opened my beer and took a sip. “Kirkland thought Blane was stupid for investing in the label in the first place. He told Blane he would never make anything of it because he wasn’t smart enough to bring in the right music.”
Hank’s brow shot up. “Blane told you this?”
“Yep, right after he told me he lost the label.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Clearly, Kirkland had no clue what he was talking about. I mean, shit, who really knows how much money Meltdown is actually making him? According to Marcy, the concert numbers alone are staggering. You have to admit his evil plan was extreme but effective. He now has you exactly where he wants you.”
I did not disagree. “So, Kirkland drugs me and sets me up with my bandmates by planting drugs in my hotel room. He then proceeds to call in a favor with his doctor friend, who runs a rehab, and the next thing I know I am rotting in a clinic for two weeks under the pretense that I am a drug addict, all just to gain leverage over me. Extreme isn’t quite the word I’d use. Try demented. What if I’d died?”
“You forget that no one knew you were allergic to Oxy,” Hank reminded me. I still wasn’t convinced.
“Do you think the old man knew?”
“No, but I think once he realized the situation, he didn’t hesitate to use it to his advantage.”
“We both know Blane would have investigated had it not been for his old man,” I pointed out.
“Blane is running scared right now.”
“Kirkland has him jumping through hoops, but I can’t decide if he’s actually in on it or not.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s desperate. If his old man tells him to jump, you better believe he’s jumping. The man will do anything to get his company back, including betraying you. It’s time to take the rose colored glasses off, G.”
This was way more than I’d signed up for. Playing music was all I’d ever wanted to do. We signed with a label because none of us wanted to deal with the day to day hassle and administrative crap. But here we were, answering to a bunch of suits. Both Blane and his control freak of a father had turned Happenstance into a shit show and I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of it all. We were struggling as a band and my desire to make music was at an all-time low. If I didn’t come up with a way to get rid of the Hamilton duo we were all going down.
Mistaking my silence for doubt, Hank said, “Look, if Mallory can’t trace the pills we’ll find another way.”
I looked up at the man who had become one of my greatest friends and told him exactly what I was thinking. “I want out.”
“I don’t blame you, but you and I both know what’s at stake if you walk away. Let’s just deal with one thing at a time. We’ve got a lot of balls in the air right now. We need a few to hit the ground before making any rash decisions. In the meantime, I have that information you wanted.” After Hank dropped of the bottle of Oxy earlier that afternoon, I told him I wanted more information on Mallory. I didn’t expect him to produce it this quickly but was happy for the change in subject.
“What did you find?”
“Mallory Jane Scott is the daughter of Blake and Samantha Stephens of Lake Placid, New York.”
It took me a minute to process what he was saying. “Is she adopted?”
He shook his head, “Nope.”
“Then why is her last name different?”
“She changed it.”
My stomach leapt into my throat. “She’s fucking married?” He laughed and I glared at him.
“Man you’ve got it bad. No she’s not married. Do you see a ring on her finger?”
“So? She could be a widow.”
“Relax, my man. She’s not married and never has been.” He waited for me to get a grip. “Look, I can tell you what I discovered but I think you need to hear it from Mallory.”
“If you’re going to tell me she’s a recovering addict, I already know.”
“Then you also know what happened.” Not sure what he was referring to I held my tongue and waited for him to talk. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and I braced for what he was about to tell me. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” he asked.
“No, but I’m counting on you to tell me.”
After a brief pause, he sighed. “I’ve never seen you act this way about a woman. From the moment Mallory stepped into your life you’ve been different. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not you really care about her and I think you owe it to the both of you to hear her story from her and not me.” I mulled over his words for a few minutes before finally nodding my head in agreement.
“You’re going to talk to her?” he skeptically asked.
“I am. In fact, we’re having our first official rehab session tomorrow morning at ten.”
He shot me a look. “Please tell me you’re not pretending to be an addict?”
I laughed as he scowled at me. “I admit I want her but that’s low. She knows I’m not an addict, but she’s worried about Kirkland catching on and firing her. I’m just making sure that doesn’t happen.”
“And hoping to get something in return?” he smiled.
Ignoring his dig, I asked, “Did you handle Chelle?”
“I spoke with Blane and he agreed to have Chloe shut her down.” Hank and I both knew that Chelle could cause trouble if she wanted to. If Happenstance threatened her with a lawsuit, she’d at least think twice before slandering mine or Mallory’s name to the press. I was sure Happenstance’s lawyer would be quite convincing.
“Good. I spoke with Mom this morning and she has copies of my medical records put away in the attic. When she questioned why I needed them I told her they were for the label. She seemed to buy it but we’ll see.” If my parents caught wind of my situation they would lose their minds. Hank knew how protective they both could be when it came to me.
“We may need Mallory to cut through some medical red tape for us if Marcel comes up empty handed on the Whitfield angle.”
Not gonna happen. “I don’t want her talking to Nancy again.”
His eyebrow shot up in surprise. “You do realize that Nancy may be your only answer.”
“I’m serious, Hank, I do not want Mallory finding out about Nancy,” I repeated more forcefully.
“If Marcel hits a dead end are you willing to step in?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but no matter what, Mallory stays out of it, okay?”
“Fine, but I think you’re making a big mistake.”
“Duly noted,” I replied.
“If we take Kirkland down are you sure you want to take on the responsibility of runn
ing a label? You have a lot on your plate right now.”
Happy he changed the subject, I answered, “As long as Kirkland and Blane are out I don’t care who runs the label.” He gave me a questioning look and I sighed. “I haven’t gotten that far, yet. Right now I want proof Kirkland set me up. Once I have it I’ll figure the rest out.” We talked a few more minutes about how to handle things going forward before calling it a night.
I had just pulled out my guitar to work on a song when I heard a loud bang from next door.
Mallory.
Placing the guitar on the sofa beside me I walked over to the adjoining door and reached for the doorknob. Should I go in? After a second of indecision I thought, fuck it. I’d rather she be mad at me for checking on her than sit and worry about her for the rest of the night. The knob turned and I mentally thanked Sean for unlocking it like I’d asked.
A pitch dark room greeted me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think no one was inside. A second passed before I heard what sounded like a muffled sob coming from the direction of the bedroom. Without thinking I bounded through the living area and flung open the bedroom door. Moonlight spilled across an empty bed.
“Mallory?” I called out.
“Grant?”
My eyes dropped to the floor where she was curled into a protective ball. Not quite sure what I was dealing with, I quietly asked, “Hey pretty lady, what are you doing down there?” She looked so damn vulnerable it made my chest ache.
“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay” she chanted, while rocking her body back and forth.
Clearly she was not okay. Dropping to my knees I crawled over to her and curled against her. She immediately stopped rocking and let out a quiet sob. I had to bite my tongue to keep my shit together. “Talk to me, babe. Are you hurt?” I whispered in her hair. She tensed in my arms and for a second I thought she was going to push me away. Much to my surprise she didn’t.
After a minute or so, she began talking. “I have dreams, and sometimes they’re really bad.”
The pain in her voice gutted me. Brushing her hair away from her tear stained face, I asked, “Did you have one just now?” I felt her head nod, yes. “Do you want to tell me about it?”