Closer to You (Grindstone Harbor, #1)

by Cat Mason

  “That she did,” Unc grumbles, inserting himself in the conversation. “Had to eat some kind of sausage and egg contraption on a pair of tiny pancakes from the drive thru joint. Started my whole day off wrong without my fruit.”

  “You mean pie filling,” I correct him. “I haven’t seen you eat an actual piece of fruit in ten years. I’d bet your body would go into shock if you did.”

  “Wanna know something about being old?” he asks, arching one his wild, gray eyebrows at me. I shake my head, since he is going to tell me, and the entire bar anyway. “I can eat whatever the hell I want because, at my age, my body has reached the point of no return. I have no doubt that the plaque from my high cholesterol is clogging my arteries up like Matchbox Cars stuck in a sewer line as we speak. But, will I ever turn down a good meal? Hell no. That’s about as stupid as turnin’ down the company of a beautiful woman. If I ever refuse a Danish from Martha, or say no to adding extra cheese and bacon to my deluxe burger, it’s time to dig the hole and shove me in.”

  “I’ll be sure to spend the extra cash on the name brand trash bags,” I announce, giving him a mock salute. Grabbing my pad and pen from my apron pocket, I scribble down what I need and hand it to Unc. “If you could box that all up to go, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I see how it is. Put the old man to work so he shuts up. Well played, boy.” Shaking his head, he heads for the kitchen. “Late night dinner for two. Prepared with love and grease. Packaged in cardboard and Styrofoam,” he says, peeking through the pick-up window.

  “Now, that says romance,” I chuckle under my breath.

  “Once I box this up, Casanova, you go on ahead,” Unc says, fumbling around at the fryer. “I’ll lock up before I head over to the Fire Hall. Bingo lets out at midnight and I’m aimin’ to give one lucky lady a ride home.”

  I fire off a text to Bristol, letting her know that I am heading her way soon, then give Jodi a hand wiping down the tables. By the time I am done, my order is all bagged up and ready to go. Thanking my uncle, I trade the keys to the bar for the food and head for my Jeep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Filter-less Bitch

  Bristol

  The house is dark, the only light coming from the television as Evan and I binge on action films from the eighties with the worst acting I have ever seen. According to E, every human should be subjected to this shit at least once in their lives, if only for the ability to reference the quotes when needed.

  “Is he kissing her or trying to eat her face off?” I ask, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

  “I don’t think bath salts were really a thing then,” Evan deadpans.

  The actress mewls like a cat in heat while the guy does little more than move his hands and lips like a fish out of water. He looks awkward as fuck, and uninterested in getting any, if you ask me. Just as I am about ready to throw my hands up and start shouting at the screen about what a horrible lay the guy has to be, the door busts open and the horrible sex scene is interrupted when masked men open fire. “Oh, look,” I giggle. “They weren’t impressed by the lack of on-screen chemistry either.”

  “Nope,” he laughs. “Didn’t even get the tip in.”

  Tapping on the backdoor has Evan jumping up and flicking the strap on his gun holster. “Put it away, Gunsmoke,” I tease, pushing to my feet. “It’s only Tage.”

  “How do you know that?” he asks, giving me the side eye. “You psychic?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I laugh, heading for the door. “I just know that the media doesn’t usually knock before invading your privacy. That, and I got a text thirty minutes ago saying that he was on his way with food.”

  “Food is always good.”

  Flipping on the kitchen light, I unlock the door and let Tage in. Piling the bags on the counter, he wraps his arms around me and smiles. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Pressing my nose to his chest, I sniff him like the fucking creeper I am. “Are the streets packed with the vulture vans yet?”

  “Not really.” His fingers run through my hair. “Two or three parked up the block a bit. I wouldn’t worry too much. They’ll move on to someone else before you know it.”

  Shoving me out of the way, Evan dives face first into the bag. “Wings!” Opening the container, he inhales deeply. “Yeah, I’m glad Bristol didn’t let me shoot your ass when you knocked.”

  Tage’s eyes snap to mine, widening in surprise. “Don’t pay any attention to the gun slingin’ ding a ling,” I say, elbowing Evan in the ribs. “As soon as he turns on an action movie, he thinks he’s Evan Pahl, lone wolf. Living on the edge of the law, while I live on the edge of my sanity.” Grabbing the bag from Evan’s reach, before he inhales everything in it, I nudge Tage toward the doorway. “Bye, Evan.”

  “Fine,” Evan says, clutching the container of food to his chest. “Leave me halfway through a movie to go spend time with Denim Dan. It’s okay. I’m only slightly offended.”

  “Only slightly?” Tage asks with a chuckle.

  “Sorry,” I shout, heading for my bedroom with Tage hot on my heels. “I’ll try harder next time.”

  “Keep the curtains closed, ya horny bastards!” Evan laughs. “No one wants a Tristol sex tape.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. Dropping the bag on the edge of my bed, I blow out a frustrated breath. “Fucking Tristol. I’m so sorry about all that. I had no idea the enemy had landed. Now there’s pictures and a goddamn hashtag.”

  Kicking the door closed, Tage moves my way. Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses the top of my head. “It’s not your fault, Bristol. Trust me, I know how they can be when they get a taste of a story. Sometimes, you’ve gotta just ride it out.”

  “Yeah,” I say, keeping my eyes downcast.

  Tipping my chin upward with his fingers, he nods. “Yeah. Let’s just say that, for a while, I had Snappers for shadows.”

  “Is this where you tell me there’s a Tage on ice sex tape?”

  “No,” he replies, his lips twitching with amusement. “My dick isn’t a fan of the cold. I’m shocked you don’t know already. I figured you Googled my ass as soon as you saw the jerseys in my office.”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “How come?” he asks, his brows knitting together.

  “Because I want the truth,” I answer honestly. “I also feel that everything worth knowing about you should come from your lips.”

  Tage looks both shocked and impressed with my answer. Nodding his head, he sighs. “Storytime?”

  Smiling, I nod in return. “Storytime.”

  Kicking off his shoes, Tage settles us on my bed. Meeting my eyes, he takes a deep breath, then blows it out slowly. “The night before the final game I played as a Wing, I caught my wife in bed with an another man.”

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, not sure if I am more taken aback by him saying he was married, or the fact that she was a complete idiot. Who the fuck would cheat on this man? “You were married?”

  Tage nods. “Kendall and I met in college, about a year before I was drafted to play pro. When I got the offer, I talked it over with Unc, and made the decision to leave school at the end of the term to pursue my dream. In my mind, that dream included Kendall, but she refused to leave her entire life behind in Boston without a massive commitment from me. I proposed that night with a quarter machine ring from a gas station parking lot, and we were married before the season started. We were way too young and moved way to fast. I know that now, but love is blind, and I didn’t see any of that shit coming. Besides, who would want to believe that two of the most important people in your life, at the time, could possibly be so vindictive?”

  “Wait,” I say, stopping him. “Are you saying that you knew the guy?”

  “Yes,” he nods. “He was a fellow teammate.”

  “Jesus.”

  “This teammate also happened to be my best friend. He and Kendall had been fucking around for over a year right under my nose before I found out. I was purely too focused on my
career, and my responsibilities as captain, to notice.” Tage shifts nervously. “When I found them in the bed she and I shared, I couldn’t believe it. I went into shock. I stormed out, thinking that if I went to a hotel for the night, maybe I would be able to try and sort through what was going on in my head.”

  “Understandable,” I say, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “I was so goddamn upset that it literally made my body hurt. My head was all over the fucking place,” he continues. “When I showed up for warm ups, I saw Kendall standing outside the locker room with him. They looked so happy, like they hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down and ripped my heart out. I lost it. Told her I was divorcing her and that I would make sure she got nothing. I also told Mickey he and I were fucking done. I was going to do everything in my power to ruin them both because I was so goddamn hurt by their betrayal. Mickey and I fought. Coach nearly benched us both that night, but quickly decided against it for the sake of the win. And, because I felt a responsibility to my team, and my jersey,” he sighs, “against my better judgment, I agreed to put my feelings aside long enough to skate out onto that ice and win that game. Mickey had other plans.” Tage’s head droops, his shoulders sag. “That night, I was carried off the ice on a stretcher.”

  “Your own best friend ended your career?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Mickey is hot-headed and competitive. When we met, I thought it was a drive to be great that fueled him. If you’re not kissing his ass, then you’re in his way. Plain and simple, and I had just become number one on his shit list. One accidental tripping, and a well-placed shove, sent me slamming into the wall, knocking me out cold. I was dead to the world. I didn’t even feel the other player’s skate that managed to slice right through my gear and gash my thigh.” Shaking his head, he laughs to himself. “I never thought I’d have something like that happen in my career. Being cut is a fluke thing with all the protective gear. I’d been hurt before, but that shit was a perfect storm of fucked up circumstances, that all came together at the worst possible time. I don’t know,” he shrugs, taking a deep breath. “I guess, in the end, Mickey only wanted what I had and was willing to do whatever he had to do to get it. That included stealing my wife’s heart. Although, Kendall was never innocent.” Lacing our fingers, Tage, looks down at our joined hands. “She never once visited me in the hospital, not even with the news coverage going on and on about possible spinal cord injury. When I was released, I came home to an empty house. Kendall had cleaned out the entire condo we lived in together before I could even file for divorce. With me injured, Coach couldn’t afford to lose another player during the finals, so what happened was ruled ‘accidental’, and that was that. Mickey quickly took my place. Then, after some much needed advice from Jo, I had a heart to heart with myself to figure out what I really wanted and walked the fuck away when the team offered me a settlement equaling my remaining contract. I ended that part of my life, on my terms, and have no real regrets. The press had a field day with their speculations, and Mickey and Kendall were all too happy to feed the media monster every chance they got. I don’t play into that shit. How can people who don’t even know anything about who you are, or what really happened, form an opinion? So I came back here, regrouped, opened the bar, and started over here with the life you see now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I breathe, unsure what else to say. My mind goes back to the first time I noticed the scar on the back of his thigh. I shudder, just like I did then.

  “Don’t be,” he says, meeting my eyes again. “That’s not why I told you this.” Tugging my hand, he pulls me into his lap. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to apologize to me for any of this, because what others do is out of your control. However, just because you can’t stop it, doesn’t mean you aren’t able to control how you react to it. All the power there belongs to you, baby. Focus on how you can change the situation to make it better for you.”

  “You’re absolutely right. I needed to hear that,” I choke out, feeling somewhat better about the situation. “Is that more advice from Jo?”

  “Nope,” he replies with a crooked smile. “That was all me.”

  “Oh,” I nod, smiling back at him. “Any other advice?”

  “Kiss me,” he says, sounding almost desperate. “Less talking, more kissing. That’s the last of Tage’s words of wisdom for now.”

  Leaning in, I brush my lips over his. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard all fuckin’ night.”

  Tage’s kisses are tender. Soft, but greedy in their passionate assault of my mouth. His hands move down my body, slipping beneath my shirt. The thoughts of wanting to punch his whorey little ex-wife in the face are replaced with how I should send her a ‘thanks for being a stupid cunt’ card.

  I could take this whole Hallmark thing to a whole new level.

  Lachlan Love Notes. Greeting cards for the filter-less bitch.

  Cuntiest Kendall, I can’t thank you enough for being a total slut. Your loss is my gain. May your gaping meat flaps enjoy this basket of cucumbers and bananas while Tage gives me the ‘D’ that doesn’t involve lawyers.

  Rolling me to my back, Tage has me naked and begging within minutes. Holding my eyes, he drives inside me. I cry out, my entire body tingling as waves of pleasure spread through my blood stream. This isn’t just fucking. We are two people, coming together, consuming each other with no concern for anything other than this moment. Right here, right now. Until there is nothing left.

  With each passing second, I feel more of myself being tied to him. This man fits so perfectly in my arms that it’s like he was always meant to be here. How is that even possible? A connection this intense with someone can’t possibly be built so quickly. Can it?

  Cupping my jaw, Tage runs his thumb over my bottom lip. Nipping at it playfully, I drag my teeth before sucking his finger into my mouth to sooth the ache with my tongue. His eyes explode, the deep green grabbing hold of me, refusing to let go.

  With every thrust of his hips, his grunts become louder, but his pace slows, becoming more controlled and methodical. The man is a wicked mastermind when it comes to fucking me senseless. Grabbing my face with both hands, he slams his mouth to mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure. I try to fight off my orgasm, not wanting this to be over so soon, but it is useless. Tage knows my body as if it were his own. Confidently, he plays my body expertly, working every inch of me until I am starving for what only he has ever been able to do to me.

  My body builds and builds, heading for the wall. Then I crash. His name, the last thing on my lips before my orgasm steals my breath. Grabbing for his hips, I dig in my nails, thrusting against him as he continues to drive into me with long, deep strokes that feel like they are hitting every inch of my body at once.

  Burying his face in my neck, Tage finds his release. Rocking his hips slowly, he rides out his orgasm until he finally collapses onto me. My eyes flutter closed as his hot breath rushes over the sensitive skin of my neck. Sated and happy, I smile against his shoulder, pressing a line of kisses along his skin, as he catches his breath. With his body pressing down on me, I feel lighter than I have in a very long time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beachside Shanking

  Bristol

  Two weeks.

  That’s fourteen days or three hundred and thirty-six fucking hours. Either way you count this shit, it is a torture to which I hope and pray most people never have to endure. Ever. Although, lately, I have begun to get on board with that whole purge thing. I’ve got my list ready if the country ever sets that shit up.

  Evan is topping that list most days.

  Of course, I don’t want to kill him. That would be too fucking easy and nowhere near as fun. I want to make his life hell. Being cooped up with him like this is making me question my sanity even more than usual.

  Thankfully, Tage has been rescuing me as much as possible. I get a nightly delivery of cheesy carb-coma inducing take-out, which usually ends with me being pounded
into the mattress and falling asleep in a post-fuck fondle. Between our text messages and late night mattress picnics, he has quickly become the highlight of my day.

  We also spend a lot of time talking. Choosing to no longer discuss any of the negative shit, Tage’s story times now are mostly centered around being raised by Felix and his summers spent away at a Hockey camp in Minnesota. I tell him about the band or touring, but usually end up talking about my summers here, both of us laughing at the irony of us never meeting until recently.

  With Tristol still a very hot topic, I have decided to focus on finishing the final songs needed for the album. The feedback from, not only my bandmates, but the label as well, has all been very encouraging. I am confident that these are some of the best songs I have ever written. The kick ass beats Quinn and Greer have been working non-stop on are killer too, which has us all excited.

  When she isn’t torturing me for details about Tage.

  Her torture officially hit a new level of crazy when she woke me up at five thirty in the un-caffeinated morning to tell me they were all headed my way. I tried to talk her out of it, but due to my lack of properly functioning brain, she was able to work me into circles even easier than usual. Tanner, Greer, and Quinn were crashing my beach prison and she was leaving no room for me to give her shit about it.

  Once Tage left for the day, I got dressed and started getting the extra bedrooms ready. Part of me is excited at the thought of having them all here with me. We have known each other so long that it is hard on us to be separated for long periods of time without getting homesick for our connection. At a very young age we became each other’s family.

  Even Evan.

  Yes, we fight and bicker like siblings. A lot. But, without them and the crazy they have that closely matches mine, life would be a whole lot less entertaining. Sometimes it is the families you build that truly give you all you need, instead of the ones that you are linked to by DNA.