Playing With Fire (Grindstone Harbor, #2)

by Cat Mason

Chapter Ten

  Brown Bag Nightmare

  Quinn

  “Quinn?” Tanner says, tapping on my bedroom door. “Aren’t you up yet?”

  “Ssh.” Rolling over, I bury my face in the pillow. “You’ll wake me.”

  “Trust me,” he chuckles, the bed dipping when he sits down next to me. “I’d do a lot more than that.”

  “Oh, I see how it is.” Not opening my eyes, I smile and let the pillow fall from my face. “You were hoping that this wake-up call would come with a happy ending?”

  “A man can dream, baby,” he says, brushing the hair from my face.

  “As great as that sounds,” I groan, sliding my legs over the side of the bed. Pressing my hand to my stomach, I feel it begin to swirl like a merry-go-round. Heat floods my face and I can feel the cold sweat coming on like it has every morning for the last several weeks. “The uterine invader says it’s time for our morning puke sesh.”

  Flinging open the door, I shoot into the bathroom across the hall. Flipping up the lid, I drop to my knees just in time. The floor creaks behind me. Tanner’s rough fingertips brush the back of my neck as he gathers my hair away from my face. “Kid’s not a morning person, huh?” Hunching down beside me, he places his other hand on my back, his thumb stroking slowly.

  “No baby has this kind of power.” Burying my face in my hands, I blow out a breath. “I’ve been possessed by the spawn of Satan.”

  He chuckles softly, his hand swiping up and down my back in one smooth stroke before patting me on the ass. “I’ll make you some toast and juice. You should get back in bed.”

  “We don’t have time for that.” Pushing to my feet, I close the lid and flush. Snagging my toothbrush, I switch on the faucet. “I need to get ready for the radio interview. Plus, I have to figure out what I’m going to say to my brother,” I add, focusing on brushing my teeth. “There’s too much still hanging in the air. I need to fix that.”

  “Fine.” Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he turns and strides out of the room. “We talk to Greer together.”

  The last several days have been exhausting. Every moment possible has been spent working in the studio and perfecting our acoustic version of Barely Bruised to perform at the radio station. While I love making music, the schedule has kicked my ass.

  Greer hasn’t said two words to me since the other night. The morning after everything went down between Tanner and me, my brother claimed the house was too crowded and decided to get a room at the hotel in town for a while to clear his head. Now, when we’re together, any time the conversation turns away from music he shuts down and leaves the room. That’s right about the time the pregnancy hormones either have me fighting tears or wanting to break shit. Sometimes both.

  The strain between Greer and me, and the one that has grown between Tanner and Greer, has already begun carrying over into our music. While pouring emotion into our work can make for some badass tracks, the tension lingering is going to come to a head eventually and fuck everything up. I can’t stand knowing that I’ve caused this.

  After I shower and do my hair and makeup, it takes me trying on nearly a dozen outfits before I find something that my mutant mega maternity tits can breathe in. The monsters have doubled in size almost overnight, cutting my already trimmed down travel wardrobe options in half. Turning sideways, I take in my reflection in the mirror.

  My entire body is changing. My hips are rounding out, every one of my rocking curves becoming more prominent. The leather shorts hug my hips, tightly encasing my ass. The scoop neck of my white t-shirt shows off my cleavage, while stretching the words ‘your mom should’ve swallowed’ across my chest to capacity. Slipping into my red, thigh high, suede wedge boots, I nod in satisfaction. “That’ll have to do.”

  “Christ,” Tanner says stepping into the room, carrying a plate of food and a glass of orange juice. “You’re a fuckin’ knockout.”

  “Enjoy the view while you can, muffin,” I toss out, glancing at him over my shoulder. “I have a feeling my usual ripped minis and leather corsets aren’t an easy find in the maternity section.”

  Placing the plate and glass on the edge of the dresser, he places his hands on my hips. “Feel better?”

  “Hungry,” I answer, leaning back into his body and absorbing his warmth. “We should stop for chicken biscuits on the way to pick up Greer.”

  Scrunching his brows together, he looks to the plate of food, then back to me. “Chicken biscuits?”

  “Yes,” I groan, my mouth watering already. “And a hash brown covered in strawberry jelly.”

  “I’ve got no idea how to respond to that, Quinnie.”

  “Wow. Tanner Hewitt, speechless?” I snort, grabbing my bag from the chair beside us. “Never thought I’d live to see hell freeze over.”

  “Quinnie.” Draping his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me into his side. “If you shocking me stupid is all it takes, you should trade in your boots for some ice skates.”

  Tanner

  “IS IT POSSIBLE FOR you to hit every red light in town?” Quinn snaps at Evan.

  “I’m sure I missed at least one,” he mutters, his eyes on the road. “Want me to circle back around to be sure?”

  “No,” she says, kicking the back of his seat. “I’d rather eat.”

  By the time we make it to the only fast food place in town, Happy Shack, Quinn is practically bouncing on the damn bench seat beside me. Her excitement lights up her entire face the moment she sees the sign. Evan barely pulls into the parking spot before she leaps up, yanks open the door and leaps down onto the pavement.

  “We’ve got a jumper!” Bristol shouts, jerking off her seatbelt. “She’s working without a net.”

  “Hush it, whore,” Quinn sings out, practically dancing through the parking lot. “I’m starving.”

  “Hurry up!” Climbing out of the driver seat, Evan pulls out his phone. “Greer’s waiting.”

  I catch up to Quinn just in time for her to make it to the counter. “Good morning, and welcome to Happy Shack,” the young redhead says, flashing us a forced smile. “My name is Patty. Can I interest you in one of our delicious mushroom swiss burgers?”

  “No thanks,” Quinn replies, while digging her wallet out of her bag. “I’d actually like a chicken biscuit and a hash brown with strawberry jelly.” Looking up, she scans the menu on the wall. “And a peanut butter milkshake please.”

  “It’s after ten thirty.” Patty’s smile fades. “Breakfast is over.”

  “It’s ten thirty-two,” Quinn replies, forcing a smile. “Are you sure you don’t have any chicken biscuits left at all?”

  Patty quickly glances at her watch, instead of back where the sandwiches sit under the warmers. “No, ma’am.” Looking up at me again, she blinks slowly. “According to the time, we’re all out.”

  “I’m thinking that unless all the biscuits magically disappear at ten thirty, it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re just being an asshole.”

  “Excuse me?” she snaps, her face hardening.

  “Quinn,” I choke out, trying not to laugh.

  “Do you want lunch or what?” Patty asks, sounding bored.

  “Yes, she does.” Stepping up beside Quinn, I check out the menu. “Grab some chicken tenders or a burger to go with your shake, babe. We’ll come back for breakfast in the morning.”

  “Order one-thirty-two!” a man behind the counter yells, sliding a tray of food onto the end of the counter.

  Quinn’s eyes move to the tray. Her face hardens when she sees the biscuits. “Are those chicken biscuits on that tray, Patty?” she asks, arching a brow. “Because I feel like they are and you just don’t wanna tell me.”

  “Look, lady.” Irritated as hell, Patty glances over at the tray. “All I can do is go by the policy. The clock says it’s lunch time, which means the items available on our menu at the moment are—”

  “Heard you the first time,” Quinn mutters, dropping her hand to her hip. “You’re a dream crusher, Patty
. All you had to do was put some chicken on my biscuit and we could get on with our lives.”

  “We’ll take the chicken tenders.” Yanking some cash out of my back pocket, I hand it to Patty.

  “And the milkshake?” she asks, ringing up the order.

  I look down at Quinn, who’s all but eye fucking the photo of the milkshake on the menu at this point. “And the milkshake, please.”

  Patty nods. “Will you still be needing the strawberry jelly?”

  “Nope,” Quinn mutters, snapping back to reality. “Just ranch for the chicken.”

  Patty looks up and takes a deep breath. “We don’t have ranch here at Happy Shack. I can offer you a packet of our original or sweet ‘n spicy Shack Sauce for only an additional fifty cents each.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Quinn growls, patience gone. “What kind of shit show brown bag nightmare is this place?”

  “Sorry.” Taking my change and the receipt, I give Patty a small smile. “She’s pregnant.”

  Quinn’s body stiffens against me. Yanking free of my hold, she turns her angry stare on me. “How in the whore faced horseshit does me being pregnant have anything to do with what is happening right now?” she asks, staring up at me in challenge. “You can’t blame the baby for this, Maybe Daddy. This place is called Happy Shack.” She flings her arm out at the sign, before pointing to her face. “Do I look happy?”

  “No,” Patty blurts, her voice low.

  “Ding ding ding. Ten points for Patty,” Quinn glances at her. “Know what I am? Hungry. There’s also an alien baby currently trying to gnaw through the lining of my uterus right now because the mother ship apparently picked the wrong freaking place in Michigan to get food.”

  “Excuse me.” A man in hospital scrubs comes up behind us and taps Quinn’s shoulder. Giving her an apologetic smile, he points toward the counter. “Sorry. Just need to grab my tray.”

  Looking at him, Quinn arches her brow. “Oh.” Stepping back, she reaches out and pushes the tray off the counter. Food spills onto the floor, napkins and silverware sliding across the tile. The guy’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping open in shock. “Breakfast is over.” Swiping her bag and milkshake from the counter, she winks. “But Patty highly recommends their delicious mushroom swiss burger.”

  Amused, turned on, and also maybe a little embarrassed at how Quinn’s hormones decided to detonate at a fast food counter over a lack of breakfast food availability, I toss a twenty down on the counter. “Lunch is on us, pal. Have a good one.”

  “This is great,” Bristol giggles. Looking around the room, I see everyone’s eyes are on us. “I was just telling Tage last night how being banned from Happy Shack is on my bucket list.”

  “What the hell did you do, Foxy?” Evan asks, tucking his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Patty’s a bitch,” Quinn says, glaring back at the girl. “A cunty breakfast hating bitch.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” I blurt, pushing open the door for her to step outside. “Cunty or not, I’m pretty sure she was just doing her job, babe.”

  “The time stamp on the receipt taped to my bag says ten thirty-two,” she argues, yanking open the back door to the SUV. “She didn’t have to be such an asshole.”

  “Pot meet kettle,” I chuckle, climbing in behind her and pulling the door closed.

  “What?” she snaps, taking the lid off her shake.

  “Nothin’.”

  Taking the box of chicken from the bag, Quinn opens it and places it on the seat between us. Taking one, she dunks it into her milkshake. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, wincing in disgust.

  “I have no idea.” Shoving half of it into her mouth, she sags back, eyes fluttering closed, a breathy moan escaping her lips. “I just know it’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

  “Ouch.” Swiping a piece of chicken, I settle back against the seat and slide my arm along the headrest behind her.

  “Are you jealous of a piece of chicken?” she asks, taunting me.

  “Little bit,” I admit, wishing like hell she was moaning like that around my cock while my face was buried between her thighs.

  “Tanner,” she purrs, shifting on the bench seat to face me. Licking her lips, she slides her hand up my thigh. Her palm comes to rest over my cock. Flexing her fingers, she smiles seductively, her eyes darkening. “You couldn’t handle being in my mouth.”

  “Jesus,” I groan, arching up into her hand. “Are you tryin’ to kill me?”

  “Mmm.” Pressing her thumb down, she traces the head of my cock through my jeans. “Oh, muffin. Are you getting worked up?”

  “Quinn,” I warn, tipping her chin in my direction. “As much as I’d love tearing those little shorts right off your ass and giving you my cock, it won’t be on a bench seat, surrounded by a parking lot full of people. It also doesn’t happen until I know, without a doubt, that we’re on the same page.”

  She blinks. “What?”

  “Not fucking this up,” I breathe, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “You mean too much.” Sliding my hand to the back of her neck, I flex my fingers, watching as her lips part on a soft sigh. “I’m not playing around. I’ve waited a damn long time to make you mine and I’m fighting for my shot now that you’re givin’ it to me. This isn’t about a quick fuck for me, Quinn. Never has been.” Moving my hand to cup her cheek, I search her eyes, making damn sure she understands what I’m saying. “It’s about you and me. About me busting my ass to build that bridge back to you, brick by fuckin’ brick. Long haul, babe.”

  Dragging the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, she nods slowly. “Okay.”

  “That’s my girl,” I breathe, pressing one last kiss to her mouth before forcing myself to pull back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pro-Baby Bandwagon

  Quinn

  After picking up Greer from the hotel, we start the trip to the radio station a few towns over where we are being interviewed by some local radio show called Beats and Buzzkill. We’re also dropping an acoustic version of the first single live on the air. Something that we’ve never done before.

  I couldn’t be more excited.

  Greer, probably sensing my need to talk to him about everything going on, gave Tanner a dirty look when he opened the door, sprawled out on the third-row seat, put in his earbuds, and lost himself in whatever brick thick, boring ass book he is reading this week. His choice to shut down and pretend that the situation doesn’t exist pisses me off. So does the fact that he has pulled away from all of us because he doesn’t want to deal with things changing.

  “Leave it,” Tanner says, covering my knee with his hand when I start to turn around and demand Greer say something to me other than hey or ask me if I finished off the chicken in my box. “Getting him to unleash whatever he’s stewing on at fifty miles an hour doesn’t end well for anyone. Especially not me.”

  “Ball up,” Bristol snorts from the front seat. “I guarantee if you tuck your knees and roll toward the ditch line, you’ll be fine. How quick are your reflexes?”

  “You’re insane,” I fire back, making both Evan and Bristol laugh. “Tanner is Greer’s best friend. He wouldn’t hurt him.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” Greer blurts, grabbing onto the back of our seat. “I’d wait for a bridge. Tanner can swim.”

  “Not a fan of heights though,” Tanner offers, tension when my brother’s hand clamps down on his shoulder.

  “Exactly,” Greer replies. “Don’t want you dead, man. Just be aware I’m pissed.”

  “Gee,” I deadpan, shaking my head. “I feel so much better.”

  “Glad I could help,” Greer says, falling back to the seat. “You guys wanna bang it out orgy style that’s fine with me. Don’t get pissy when I don’t do cartwheels and backflips when my baby sister ends up pregnant and playing who’s the daddy with my goddamn best friends.”

  A spark ignites low in my belly, rage spreading through my veins.
Balling my fists, I count to ten inside my head, reminding myself that Greer is acting out of hurt and doesn’t really believe the venom he is so actively spewing.

  “Cue enraged hormonal bitchfit,” Bristol says, holding up her finger. “In five, four, three...”

  “Bite me.” Yanking off my seatbelt, I whip around in the seat to face him. Sitting up in the seat, his eyes widen. “Last I checked, big brother, I didn’t ask for your opinion on my sex life, or the baby I just so happened to be carrying. It happened, now I’m dealing with it. The only people I actually had any obligation to tell was Tanner and E. I did that.” Feeling my head start to spin, I take a deep breath before I do something like slap my own flesh and blood family in the face for being such a prick.

  “Quinnie,” he says, his face softening slightly.

  “Second wind comin’,” Evan chuckles, when I let out a growl. “She’s lit up fierce now.”

  “I’m not done,” I snap, causing E to laugh again. Everything Tanner said earlier plays over in my head. His sweet and supportive words colliding with my brother’s snarky comments. Blowing out a breath, I ignore the comedic commentary coming from the front seat and force myself to continue. “I love you, Greer. Having your love and support is always important to me. The thing is, if you can’t deal with the fact that you’re having a niece or nephew in a few months, maybe it’s best you stay at the hotel and keep the fuck out of my business. I refuse to apologize to you or anyone else.” Turning back around, I flop down in the seat. “Also.” Dropping my head to Tanner’s arm, I blow out a cleansing breath. “Tanner and I are together. I don’t care if you can’t handle it or if it pisses you off. I’m not asking for your approval or your opinion on that either.” Shrugging a shoulder, I smile. “It just needed to be said out loud.”

  Tanner’s hand finds mine, his fingers lacing with my own. I can’t see it, but I feel his smile when his face turns toward me. “Quinnie,” he breathes softly into my hair.

  “Brick by brick, sweetcheeks,” I whisper, giving his hand a squeeze.