by Cat Mason
Images of us that have popped up everywhere over the last few weeks are now playing on a loop in my head, along with the private moments only he and I share. Now, I see what I don’t have. I feel what I could have with someone. The possibilities make my heart begin to ache. With Tage. Coming so close, only to have to walk away right when shit gets good, because who would want to put themselves through the bullshit that is a long distance relationship. Especially when the foundations of what has started here is so fresh.
The other problem is; he knew all of this from the jump. I laid it all out, in this very room. I didn’t date. I told him this shit always ended badly. That it would never work. Once the songs I was working on were done, Evan and I are going back to California so that production could begin on the new album. He agreed with everything I said and has never, even once, brought it up again. I mean, it is very possible, that all this shit that I am feeling may not even be reciprocated.
I honestly don’t know which would be worse.
Although, either way this lands, one thing remains abundantly clear. If simply thinking about leaving has me this torn up inside my head, I can’t imagine what it will feel like to drive away. Leaving Tage and Grindstone Harbor behind is going to hurt like a bitch and I am in no way prepared for the damage this is going to do to my heart.
Once Tage helps me steady on both feet again, and we straighten my dress, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom while he heads off to wash up and get back to work. Handling my business, I give myself a once over in the mirror while reading myself the riot act over my post-orgasmic feels, and their need to fuck the fucking fuck right off. If Tage senses that something is up, I have no doubt he will call me out on it. He has a way of reading me and encouraging me to face shit head on, when I’d rather shut down and retreat back into myself where it’s safer. He is a talker, a problem solver. Right now, I am not ready for that. The last thing I want to do is have a serious conversation here, in front of everyone, about our future. Or lack thereof.
Especially since I have no goddamn idea what the hell to say or do about my recent revelation.
Opening the bathroom door, I am instantly assaulted by the shouts of a halfway smashed Quinn. “Bollocks,” she says, complete with a slurring British accent. “Give it to me, ya hobknocker. You’ll cock it up.”
“I will not,” Tanner argues. “And what the fuck is a hobknocker?”
“Google it.”
“That didn’t take long,” I laugh, spotting Quinn as she tries to wrestle a bottle of ketchup away from Tanner. “I was wondering when Fanny, Lady of Drunkenshire, would rear her ugly head.”
Quinn looks up at me, pursing her lips. “I’d be right offended if that wasn’t mighty fucking brilliant,” she laughs, waving the bottle around as she speaks. “Back from your little snog, are we?”
“My what?” I ask, shaking my head. With the booth filled to capacity, I pull up an empty chair to the end and sit. Grabbing the bottle from her hand, I slap the side before pouring a little on the edge of the plate for her to dip her fries in.
“Thanks, mate,” she smiles, digging in. “These chips are the bollocks.”
“Why do I feel like I need a passport to drink with you?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Where’s your drink, love?” she asks, arching a brow at me. “I thought we came here to get pissed. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“For crying out loud,” Tanner groans, exasperated. “She’s cut off. Most women drink and get giggly before passing out on the ride home. Instead, we’re stuck with fuckin’ Fanny.”
Quinn stops eating. Shifting in her seat to face him, her eyes harden, zoning in on her intended target like a missile locking in the coordinates before launching.
This is going to be bad.
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Tanner. I’m not most women and you’re not stuck with me at all. Fucking wanker.” Grabbing her plate, she dumps the whole thing over into his lap. Leaning in, she flicks him between the eyes with her thumb and middle finger. “Fuck right off and rot in hell.”
“Quinn!” Evan and I shout in unison while Greer sags back into the wall, roaring with laughter.
“What the fuck, Fanny?” Tanner yells, shoving her away. “Are you crazy?”
Standing to her feet, she looks down at me, her smug smile saying that she is very pleased with herself. “I’ll be at the bar.”
Heading straight for where Bob and Jimmy sit, talking to Felix, Quinn hitches her ass up on the stool beside them. Crossing one leg over the other, she turns her back to our table completely and begins speaking to Felix. Turning my attention back to the table, I roll my eyes at the guys. Greer is still laughing at Tanner, who is bitching like a baby while he cleans himself up, while Evan looks like he is about two seconds away from running off to yank one out in the bathroom.
“I can’t believe she did that,” Tanner grumbles, shoving the plate on the table as he piles the ruined fries on top. “Crazy bitch.”
“Classic. Absolutely classic,” Greer laughs, clutching his stomach. “I need to invest in one of those video cameras I can wear like a headband. The world is missing out on one hell of a reality show. What the Fuck, Fanny, would be goddamn gold!”
“I appreciate your help,” Tanner mutters sarcastically, flipping Greer off. “She’s your sister. Reel her the fuck in. She can’t just walk around doing whatever the hell she wa—”
Grabbing an onion ring from the basket in the center of the table, Evan shoves it into Tanner’s mouth, muffling his tirade. “That’s it. Chew, chew, and shut the fuck up. You can thank me later for saving your life.”
Rolling my eyes, I push to my feet. “I think I’d rather go get pissed with Fanny, than sit here and be pissed at Tanner.”
Quinn is nursing some fruity blue cocktail filled with chunks of pineapple, slices of oranges and a cherry. Taking the empty stool on the other side of her, I smile at Felix. “Rumrunner?”
“You got it, pretty lady,” he winks, then turns to fetch what he needs to mix up my drink.
“I can’t bloody believe him,” she mutters, blowing out a breath. “The nerve of that fucking wanker and his unbelievable smart arse attitude. I should have hit him in the face with that plate. Right in his stupid fucking face.”
“I don’t know what the problem is between you two,” I reply as Felix places my drink in front of me. Thanking him, I smile, and turn back to Quinn. “This constant fighting back and forth isn’t going to help anything. Hell, I’m not sure he even understands what he did to make you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” she corrects me, “I’m indifferent. Not the same thing.”
“You’re full of shit, Fanny,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “If you were indifferent, you wouldn’t have just assaulted the guy with straight cut potatoes and dishware before flicking him in the head like a poorly trained dog who pissed in your shoe.”
“Don’t you even joke about him ruining my shoes,” she warns, narrowing her eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, she shoots a glare Tanner’s way. “If I cared, I’d have ordered chili instead.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, staring her down. “Have you got a thing for Tanner?” I ask as all the pieces click together in my head and I see the full picture.
“Get stuffed,” she huffs, shaking her head. “You’re completely out of your fucking bird, lady. Just because you have a thing, doesn’t mean I want a thing. There is no thing.”
“Last I checked,” I giggle. “I don’t have a thing. I’ve got an innie, not an outtie. Besides, don’t turn this around on me.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“Yeah, you know what? I don’t think so.” Tapping my index finger against my lips, my eyes move from her to Tanner. Sitting back in the booth, he crosses his arms over his chest, staring straight ahead. At her. Oh boy. How have I missed this until now? “Well, hate, love, lust, or indifference,” I say, mocking her tone. “It looks like it’s mutual.”
&nbs
p; “Well, it fucking well isn’t.”
“Mhm,” I say, skeptically.
Twisting on her stool, she meets Tanner’s eyes. Lifting her drink, she runs her finger around the rim before licking the liquid from her finger. Tanner swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably in the booth, watching every move she makes while Evan and Greer are talking, the two goons totally oblivious to what is going on. Curling her other fingers into a fist, she slips her finger from her mouth, flipping him off while mouthing the words, “In your dreams.”
Tanner’s eyes darken, his face hardening menacingly. Throwing her head back, Quinn laughs, obviously getting the desired reaction. Turning her back to him, she downs the rest of her drink. “Felix?” she asks, batting her lashes. “We’re gonna need some more of those chips and refills. Tonight, is going to be a great night.”
Chapter Seventeen
Peek-A-Moo
Bristol
Thankfully, with the help of a few more drinks, and a lot of laughs at the bar with Tage and the guys, Quinn’s mood improved. Jimmy, Felix, and Bob, or The Three Stooges, as Quinn as so aptly named them, have had us laughing all night at their ridiculous stories. Clearly wanting to be the center of attention, Felix shut off the television, shocking a few customers by cranking up the juke box to show off his award winning dance moves. He looks more like one of those dancing street monkeys that I’ve seen on YouTube, but props to the guy for being so enthusiastic.
I really hope I have that much spirit at his age.
With Felix, basically running the paying customers out of the bar with his very own routine for ‘Baby Got Back’ by Sir Mix A Lot, Tage decides to shut down once Evan says we should be heading out. I can feel the unwanted conversation that I need to have with Tage looming over my head like a thundercloud. However, I do my best to stow it away in a box in the back of my mind, and focus on anything else that I can, so that I don’t have to face the reality of it.
Shoving by Evan the moment he opens the front door, I hop from foot to foot, tugging off my shoes as I make my way down the hall to the kitchen for some water. Flipping on the light, I instantly freeze inside the doorway. The kitchen is trashed. Dishes are smashed all over the floor; glass, trash, and other debris litter so much of the floor that there is little of the blue marble tile showing.
An arm wraps around my middle, yanking me back. “Evan!” I shout, my eyes widening in shock when I see the backdoor standing wide open. My body starts to shake, fear freezing me in place.
Oh God. I can’t breathe. Someone got in here. Someone managed to get inside the house, even after everything Evan has done to lock it down. Am I not fucking safe anywhere now? What the hell could they possibly want from me?
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Evan says, securing me behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he shoots a look to Greer. “Police. Now,” he grounds out, drawing the gun from his side. “Looks like the fucker probably took off out the back when we came in. Tanner, take the girls to Quinn’s room. Lock yourself inside. Do not open the door unless I tell you to.”
Tanner grabs my arm, tucking me into one side of his body. Quinn swats at him. Scrunching her nose up in disgust, she yanks back out of his reach. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Stuff it, woman. Do as your fucking told.” Without hesitation, Tanner charges. Bending at the waist, he hoists her over his shoulder effortlessly, moving us toward the bedroom.
“Put me down, you waste of sperm!” she shouts, pounding his lower back with her fists. “I’m not some fucking play thing you can toss about and manhandle.”
“I fucking dare you to hit me again, little girl,” he grounds out, tightening his arm around her thighs. “You’ve pushed your goddamn luck about as far as it’s going to go with me tonight,” he informs her. Kicking the door closed, he plops her ass down on the edge of the bed.
The small bedside lamp only partially illuminates the room, but I don’t miss the look of hurt that flashes across her face before she quickly masks it. “Go to hell, Tanner,” she spits angrily. “You don’t scare me.”
The blankets shift on the other side of the bed, and the sound of a muffled groan has Quinn leaping off the bed, and into Tanner’s arms. “Oh my God!” she shrieks, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “What in the fuck was that? I saw this on TV. That show with the twisted, creepy shit. The blonde tweaker bitches cut open the stitches in the mattress and a guy climbs out. Oh my God! I don’t want some lady to put me in a body cage and drain my blood. I like it where it is!”
“What the absolute fuck have you been watching, Quinn?” I ask, rounding the bed. “Tanner, I’m pretty sure you can go tell Evan we don’t have anything to worry about.” Yanking the cover back, I am met with Moo’s sleepy brown eyes looking up at me. “Our intruder is just our friendly, neighborhood beach cow,” I laugh. “Quinn, Tanner; meet Moo, Tage’s dog.”
The door busts open, Evan flies into the room, gun drawn and ready to fuck shit up. “We heard screaming.”
“Did you get him?” Greer shouts, barreling in behind him, swinging a frying pan like it were King Arthur’s sword. “Where is he? I’ll fuck him up,”
“Before, or after, you make him breakfast?” I laugh, dropping down onto the bed beside the dog, giving him a scratch behind the ear. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, there’s no psychotic serial killer. It’s just Moo.”
“The dog?” Evan asks, shoving his gun back into the holster. His brown eyes widen as he stares at Moo. “How the hell did he get in?”
Letting out a grunt, Moo props his head up on my knee, demanding more attention. “No clue,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders. “You want to interrogate the him?” I ask, arching a brow. “Seriously, he trashed the kitchen, scared me shitless, and got us all amped up. But dude, it’s a freaking dog. I’m pretty sure the only thing he had the intention of damaging was your ability to binge on snack cakes and potato chips at midnight.”
“Goddamn dog is a fuckin’ ninja,” Evan mutters, rolling his eyes. “How the fuck did he get over a fifteen-foot high iron fence? This is the kind of ridiculous bullshit that makes me question my career choices. My mother always tells me that I should’ve been a kindergarten teacher or worked for UPS.”
Clapping his hands together excitedly, Greer laughs. “Children let’s gather ‘round for story time. Today, we’re going to read Flexy Lexy is Super Sexy, by acclaimed author Dick B. Swellen.”
“Ugh,” Quinn says, shoving away from Tanner. “Let me go.” Sitting down on the bed, she pats Moo’s hip. “My first night in town and I’ve ended up with a guy in my bed,” she giggles. “Not what I expected, but I’ll take it.”
“Gotta admit, he’s a drastic improvement from the last few I’ve seen you with, Sis,” Greer tosses out.
“Aren’t you a funny fucker?” she laughs sarcastically, flipping him off. “Now, if you’re all over this whole prison break-in situation, can you kindly get the fuck out of my room?” she asks, stretching her arms above her head and letting out a yawn. “I’m knackered.”
“I should probably go open the gate for the police,” Evan says when the buzzer starts going off. “I’m sure the cops will get a kick outta this shit.”
“Come on, troublemaker,” I call, standing to my feet. “I’m sure Tage is wondering where you’ve run off to.” Moo groans in protest, dropping his head to the mattress and closing his eyes tightly. “Fine,” I say, heading for the door. “I’ll just raid that stash of beef jerky and Golden Double Stuffed Oreos I’ve got hidden up in my bedroom, all by myself.”
“Twat,” Quinn mutters, rolling to her side and resting her head on the pillow. “You know I’m comfy and not about to climb out of bed, only to have to climb a hundred stairs. You just had to mention sweets, didn’t you?”
“It’s not a hundred stairs,” I inform her.
“Might as well be,” she breathes softly, her eyes drifting closed. Moo shuffles off the bed, stopping briefly to stretch, yawn, and groan horribly before following me out of the
room. Grabbing the door knob, I pull it closed behind me, shaking my head as Quinn starts to snore.
Just as we start up the hall, Tage flings open the door. “Bristol!” he shouts, scanning the room. His eyes are frantic, his chest heaving.
“I’m here.”
The moment he spots me, he sighs, relief filling his features. “Moo got out. When I was out looking for him, I saw the police flying in,” he says, heaving for breath. Yanking a hand through his hair, he shakes his head. “I thought—”
“I know,” I reply, as he closes the distance. “Me too.”
Pulling me into his arms, he buries his nose in my hair, breathing deeply. Wrapping my arms around him, I blow out the breath it feels like I have been holding since I flipped on the light and saw my destroyed kitchen. His fingers move along my skin, feather light touches, soothing my frazzled nerves. If I wasn’t sure I was falling in love with this man, I sure as shit am now. I can feel the waves of tension leaving his body, the sheer worry he felt for me when he saw that I could have possibly been in danger.
Moo barks, clearly not happy with being forgotten. “You’re on my shit list, asshole,” Tage says, shooting him a look. “I’m so sorry.” Brushing away the curls that have fallen into my face, he meets my eyes. “I still can’t believe he not only got out, but managed to get in here. He’s outdone himself tonight, that’s for sure.”
“Sure did,” Evan says, stopping just inside the opened front door. “The police seem to think he squeezed himself between the bars at the back gate that leads up from the beach. As for the opening the backdoor, and actually getting inside the house,” he says, cocking his head to the side as he studies Moo. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
“Yeah,” Tage replies, scowling. “I’ve learned not to put too much effort into figuring him out. The moment I’m sure I can trick him, he switches shit up, which ends with me having to replace shit like groceries and dry wall.”