Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  Had she missed him?

  She went into the bathroom, but his toiletries were still there. So he wasn’t gone. She wandered back out to the upper living space that connected all of their bedrooms. No lounging Jazz with her headphones on, no gently strumming Nick, but more importantly, no Deacon.

  Defeated, she slowly crept downstairs to wait. Light strums of a guitar lured her to the patio. Her breath backed up in her chest.

  Deacon.

  He was facing the staggering view from their balcony. Los Angeles, still so alive even now. There was no difference between a weekday and weekend in this city. It was always alive and moving.

  Like Deacon, it rarely shut down.

  He was curled over his battered black guitar. She knew the sound of his beloved acoustic. She’d listened to him for hours on the bus. The familiar tones of the notes to the song he was always playing soared into the night. The only illumination were the rope lights that framed out the space.

  Low, glossy light accentuated his smooth skin and long, mouthwatering neck. It kissed his mahogany hair, leaving most of it in inky shadow. His profile telegraphed how lost in the song he was. Eyes shut, his hair falling forward. All of the achingly familiar lines of him pulled her into the space.

  The song was haunting tonight. Sadness and longing lived inside the song tonight. Every whisper of his fingers down the strings flayed open another layer of emotion. The edges were sharp and sweet, the underlying tone was pain and loss.

  The tears she’d been holding for days spilled down her cheeks. She slapped her hand over her mouth, but the sob broke free regardless. He looked over his shoulder, then quickly got to his feet.

  “Harper.”

  She clutched her other arm over her middle and attempted to choke back the emotions, but couldn’t. He put the guitar down and crossed to her. He didn’t hesitate. He hauled her in, up on her toes and flush to his chest. His solid strength undid her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he lifted her, she held on tighter. She speared her fingers through his hair, her breath coming out in shaky puffs.

  His mouth found hers and she tasted her tears in their kiss. The softness of his beard, the shuddering gasps between them, all of it turned her inside out. He lowered her to floor again until he had her straddling his lap on the lounger.

  He pushed her hair back, cupping her face. “You came back.”

  She nodded. Throat closed, breath coming out in pants, her whole body was against her. She tipped her head back until the tears stopped running unchecked down her cheeks.

  He was here.

  In her arms. Not going anywhere. Finally her chest loosened enough for her to speak. “I love you, Deacon.” She pressed her forehead to his, their noses brushing, his warm breath on her lips. “God, I love you. I tried to work.” She had to get it out, and it came in a rush. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was cook. This was supposed to be my big break.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you choose. I just—“

  “Shh, it’s not even about that. Okay, some of it is about that.” She tightened her fingers into the roots of his hair. “I could still peel your balls off with a paring knife for that comment, by the way.”

  He laughed, moving his hands down to her hips, holding her there like she’d get away. “Fuck, I missed you.”

  “That’s the thing, Deacon. I missed you. I hated how we left things. I can’t—” she pressed her cheek to his. “I just can’t. Do you know how annoying it is to live for twenty-three years without needing anyone and have that completely obliterated in two months?”

  “Yeah, I think I know a little something about that.” He banded his arms around her back.

  She leaned back until their eyes met. “Yeah, well, I don’t. I hate it.”

  He jerked back. “I don’t.”

  She stroked her thumb over the furrow between his brows. “I know you don’t. I’ve never met a more open and giving man.” How did she explain this?

  “Only when it’s you.”

  She sighed out a growl. “You ruined my entire plan. I’ve had this plan since I was seventeen years old.” Since the day she got her heart stomped on by a stupid boy who didn’t know how to be careful with her. But that boy wasn’t Deacon. No one could be like this gentle giant of a man who cherished her. And that was the difference. And the reason she’d been able to make her decision to come back.

  She’d never had anyone get inside her like that. Never knew another soul to understand her like he did.

  He opened his mouth to speak again, and she shook her head. She framed his face, smoothing her thumbs over the sharp angles of his cheekbones then down into the week’s worth of beard. Her favorite face. The face that she couldn’t live without. “No, just let me get this out.”

  When he nodded with that little smirk of a smile, she let go of her doubts. She’d figure out how to make this work. Because this man was worth figuring it out for. He was worth any price she had to pay. She would have both her career and Deacon somehow, because there was no other option.

  “I didn’t handle it right at Maggie’s house. I shouldn’t have left.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

  “Yes, you should have.” She straightened her shoulders. “You were honest and told me what you needed. I just couldn’t see past the caveman way you said it.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers again. “I was stupid. I panicked. I knew if I watched you walk away from me that I would have literally burned something to the ground.” He shook his head. “My life has been a series of pitstops. I’ve never belonged anywhere until you. And when you said we could just float along seeing each other whenever, I lost it.”

  Before she could speak again, he fused his lips to hers in a hard, desperate kiss. When he stopped, and she resumed the ability to breathe, she pressed her cheek to his. “I thought it would be enough. I was wrong. So, very wrong.”

  “I’ve had some time to think. In between being an asshole and getting us a new contract, I—”

  “A new contract?” She threw her arms around his neck. “Deacon, that’s amazing. With…what was it? Ripper Records? That Lila chick? I knew she’d call you back.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Wait until I tell you that story. But for now, we have a tentative contract, and I think everyone finally agrees that Trident isn’t for us.”

  “Oh, babe, that’s great.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Four days without hearing your voice about killed me.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “But, as I was saying…I’ve been thinking.”

  “Always a dangerous proposition,” she teased.

  “Har-har. I honestly don’t expect you to give up your job or any future jobs because of me. That was just me being an asshole.”

  “At least you own your asshole moments.”

  His dimples flashed. “I’m sure there will be many more in your future. I’m sorry in advance.”

  “No tally sheets. I’m sure we’ll both have more than a few of those moments.” She played with the heavy fall of hair that was starting to slip past his shoulders.

  “Remember how I was teasing you that you could be our personal chef?”

  “Look, Deacon. As much as I love cooking for you guys, and you all definitely eat enough for it to be a full-time job. I need more than that.”

  He laced his fingers at the small of her back. “Could you let me talk?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Thank you.” He leaned forward to bump his nose with hers. “You can make that into a business. Not just us. But with a little marketing and word of mouth, I think you could get the word out and do some catering to build your name. Then when we’re on tour, we’ll make sure it’s in the budget to get you and a small crew of your choosing on board with us.”

  “I could see if I could steal Annie away,” she said as her mind whirled with ideas. “I’ve got enough in savings to be able to get
some equipment. I guess I’m just moving up my timetable.”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing since the day we met?”

  She laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.” Now that he was there and she could touch him, everything inside her fell into place.

  It was terrifying. Being dependent on another person was so foreign to her. And yet, here she was, irrevocably in love with this man. And all of her plans hinged on planning around more than just herself.

  She sat back until his beautiful green-gold eyes met hers. “This is a forever kind of deal, Big Guy. Think you can handle it?”

  His smile was so huge. Not an ounce of fear lived inside him. God, how could she have found someone like that? That loved her with this much certainty?

  “Forever with matching rings, Lawless.”

  “Wait, what?” Her breath stalled in her chest.

  No. He didn’t…that wasn’t…

  He wasn’t serious.

  “You heard me.” He stood, hooking her legs around his waist as he walked through the living room to the stairs. “You think I’m giving you the chance to get away again, you’re out of your mind. I’m tying this up with a bow and a license.”

  “I didn’t say yes.” She couldn’t say yes. “You didn’t ask,” she squeaked out as he ran up the stairs. “Deacon, you didn’t ask!”

  The insufferable man just laughed.

  Epilogue

  November 1, 2:00 PM - Endings & Beginnings

  Venice Beach blessed them with a sky as blue as Harper’s eyes and a sunny day that burned off the worst of the November temperatures. Sand sifted through his toes and the familiar roar of the ocean matched the roar in his head.

  He shifted under his linen jacket and smoothed down the sand colored silk t-shirt beneath it. He reached into his pocket for the eighty-seventh time, curling his fingers around the velvet box.

  “We can still make a run for it,” Simon said out of the side of his mouth.

  Deacon smiled and his heart rate came down from thunder to a mere rumble. “Not a chance.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Don’t make me take away your best man status. I can still give it to Jazz.”

  Simon adjusted his buff colored jacket that matched Deacon’s. Instead of a t-shirt in the same hue like Deacon wore, Simon’s shirt was the blue Harper had chosen for her attendants. “She’s already the maid of honor.”

  “She’s like the all-powerful Oz. She can do it all.”

  Simon snorted. “Just because she single-handedly set this entire spread up doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Deacon looked out at the folding chairs with their little mason jar flower arrangements tied to the aisle seats. Flower arrangements that he’d helped with. He was damn good at tying a fucking bow.

  He dug into his pocket again.

  “What do you keep digging for? I’ve got the ring.” Simon flipped open the ring box in his pocket. “See? All safe and sound.”

  Deacon looked down at the special wedding ring they’d both had created for each other. Their individual fingerprints were carved into the inside of a simple platinum band. His on Harper’s and vice versa.

  Deacon closed it and Simon’s hand together. “Good. Because I don’t want to be arrested for murder on my wedding day.”

  Simon slapped him on the arm. “Relax. You’ve been a freaking mess since you guys shared the good news. All will be well, brother.”

  They’d rushed the entire deal. If Harper had her way, they would have taken longer to plan the shindig, but all he wanted was to be married to her.

  He wasn’t sure what it was about that slip of paper and ring that was so important. She loved him, and she wasn’t going anywhere. But he wanted a tie to him. He’d never had ties or roots, or even a place to truly call home. But Harper was all of those things to him and he wouldn’t ever let her go.

  So much so that he actually hadn’t asked her to marry him. Thank God she actually went along with the whirlwind engagement. Of course he really hadn’t given her a choice. He’d just bulldozed his way over any doubts she had.

  But now that there was a preacher, and a glowering Hawaiian man standing in the front row, as well as all of the people that were important to him and Harper. Now he didn’t want any doubts on his end.

  The pluck of guitar strings pulled him out of his obsessive musings. Gray had volunteered to play the song Deacon had been writing for years. The moment he’d been sure that Harper was lost to him, he’d known just what the song needed. It needed the loss to find the hope. The song had come full circle, just as he had—just as they had. Because of Harper he finally had a purpose in the world that didn’t belong to music.

  A partnership that centered him and refueled him.

  She would always feed his music. This overwhelming love that this woman had brought out in him was as terrifying as it was exhilarating and he would be forever grateful for that. And make sure that he showed her every single day.

  The flap of the white tent at the far end of the aisle snapped him to attention. First he saw Jazz. Her dark hair was clipped up with a single blue strip of hair in the mass of curls. She had a dazzling smile that put every man and woman at ease. You wanted to be part of her world just so you got to see that smile every day.

  She wore a simple blue dress that fluttered around her knees in the breeze off the water. She held fat red Gerbera daisies, matching the ones that were tied to each of the chairs on the aisle. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t Harper.

  And she was walking down the aisle slower than was humanly possible.

  His bubbly Jazz should be sprinting down the aisle. She only had two speeds, dammit. Why did she have to pick now to go slow?

  But finally she was there, grinning up at him as she took her place across from him. The song that had become Harper’s flowed into the hopeful finish of the melody. He knew every note by heart, but he went completely deaf, his mind completely blank as Harper stepped out of the little tent she’d been hiding in.

  God, she was breath stealing.

  She’d twisted her beautiful hair into an intricate braid at the crown leaving the rest of it to dance around her bare shoulders. She held a happy trio of sunflowers with the red daisies wound into the green. Gold threads in her simple white lace dress picked up light from the sun turning her into a shimmering piece of precious gold.

  Her father took her arm and walked her down the aisle, but Deacon only had eyes for Harper. He couldn’t have looked away if someone had held a gun to his head. And when she finally got to the little arbor they’d set up and smiled up at him with tears shining in her eyes every doubt flew out to sea.

  The blinding love he felt matched the light he saw in her eyes. And when her father answered the preacher to say that he was giving this woman to him, he knew absolute peace.

  He dug out the box in his pocket and went down on one knee. “Harper Lee Pruitt, will you marry me?”

  She laughed and brought her hand up to her mouth. The sprinkle of tears that dotted her cheeks and little sob that broke free nearly broke him. “I didn’t think you were ever going to actually ask, big guy,” she said with a sniffle. She held out a trembling hand.

  He held onto it and slid the antique solitaire over knuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand before he stood and hauled her into him for a kiss that held a few tears and a whole lot of love.

  “It’s not time for that yet,” Simon said.

  “It’s always time for that,” Jazz said with a dreamy sigh.

  Clearing his throat, he linked their fingers and turned to the preacher. “I think we’re ready.”

  “More than ready,” Harper said and tightened her grip on his hand.

  Rock, Rattle & Roll

  Lost in Oblivion Book 2

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, charac
ters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Rock, Rattle & Roll

  © 2014 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

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  First ebook edition: July 2014

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  One

  The Getaway

  Deacon McCoy stared at his phone. “C’mon. Light up. A text—something.”

  “You’re just going to have to go kidnap her.”

  Deacon glanced over at the couch where Jazz Edwards sat cross-legged tapping away on her laptop. The drummer for their band, Oblivion, was decidedly un-Jazz like tonight wearing old jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Her dark hair was minus the colorful doodads he was used to. Though that could be because they were all subsisting on three hours of sleep at night.

  The new album was freaking killing them.

  Deacon stepped over his body bag sized duffel by the door and sat beside her. The house they were renting was decidedly smaller than the penthouse they’d been living in for the last six months. First of all it was a house. They’d lived in the city for so long, the idea of a backyard—okay, so it was a small backyard, but it had grass—was the main reason they’d signed the lease. Like the rest of the place, it required a bit of sweat and creativity, but hey…look at that—it didn’t require their soul.