4 Play

by Quinn, Cari

  “Never cry.” He lowered his mouth to mine. “Well, maybe sappy girl tears.”

  I punched him in the shoulder, then curled my fingers around his neck and gave the crowd a show. I heard the shouts and the wolf whistles, then I forgot about performing. The man had a magic mouth after all.

  He righted me, ending the display with a smacking kiss.

  Indie stood just inside the door with her arms folded. “If you’re done with the romantic overtures, we’ve got a show to do.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Hunter dragged me behind him. Seriously, I was going to have to rethink the four-inch-heels thing being with this guy.

  A maze of hallways gave me a blast of déjà vu. This time at the end was a huge empty studio, and the iconic desk on a raised dais.

  The band was on the right of it in the little alcove where The Roots played for Fallon. Wyatt looked huge behind the downsized drum kit. Zach and Owen were tuning their instruments, while Keys was organizing her dual keyboard setup with her tech.

  Owen called Indie over, and we were left alone.

  “Guess I gotta work.” He lifted my fingers to his mouth, but instead of kissing them, he went for the inside of my wrist. “Outside might have been a little bit of a show.” He lightly grazed his teeth over the fragile tissue, pressing a kiss where my pulse was going haywire. “But we’re not. No artifice, and no fake glamour for the camera. You know that, right?”

  “I do.” When he kept his gaze locked on mine, obviously searching for something, I pulled his hand down to cup my cheek. “I know. I love you, Hunter. Not the Manaconda.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I love that part, too, but it’s the man I love. Not the magazine cover. The one inside grinning over his guitars. I love the guy who geeks out over a vintage album and gives his time to abandoned animals.”

  He lowered his head to mine, bumping our noses briefly. He opened his mouth just as Bats came up beside us. Hunter stiffened.

  Bats looked over his shoulder, then back to us.

  I moved beside Hunter, our fingers laced together.

  “I need you to trust me, H.”

  Hunter’s shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do trust you, Bats. It’s Vic I don’t trust.”

  “I got it handled.” Reed’s eyes were stark and pleading.

  “If you say you’ve got it, then you’ve got it.”

  Reed nodded, then his face transformed. The sharp angles of his jawline were emphasized as he tilted his head forward and a white slash of teeth glowed from his dark beard. “Motherfuckin’ Fallon.”

  Hunter grinned back at him. “Fuck yeah.”

  I stepped back as he let my hand go to clasp his brother’s. He glanced down at me. “Gotta work.”

  “I’ll be over here watching.”

  I’d figured watching them practice would bore me to tears, but they were actually quite fascinating. Broken, coded phrases and hand signals reminded me of sign language. The guitars seemed a bit loud, but I had to figure that was because of the empty room.

  And I was right. The room filled, and I sat through the rehearsal monologue, groaning at a few bombs. When the show started taping, there was an odd hush to it all.

  The thrum of excitement swelled as Fallon did his official monologue and we laughed along at the right spots. He held everyone’s attention as he chatted up the celebrity there to pimp her movie. Finally, when it was time for the band to play, you could actually see the host’s excitement for the music.

  Hunter even gave him a good-natured grin when Fallon mentioned the magazine cover as he introduced them.

  The lights went down and my song started its build. Hunter stepped to the microphone, head down. He curled his fingers around the stand, his other hand draped over the stationary mic. “For Kenny,” he said in a low voice, then met my gaze unerringly.

  On television. My name. I was never going to give him shit for calling me Kenny again.

  Oh, this man was never going to be boring.

  He prowled the stage with every molecule of lead singer in place.

  My lead singer.

  My guy.

  My Hunter.

  Epilogue

  Hunter

  I jumped up and down near the stairs to the stage.

  “Would you stop? It’s going to be great.” Keys was crouched in front of a Toy Poodle. “Such a good girl.” She scratched her ears, offered her a treat, then tied the little card in front of her neck.

  “Do we have them lined up right?”

  “Yes, Nervous Nellie.”

  I dipped my hand into my pocket for the box. “I think I’m entitled to be nervous.”

  “You’re certifiable, but this is definitely going into the grand gesture history books.”

  “Yeah?”

  Keys laughed. “Yes. Definitely. Now, let me get these guys lined up. C’mon Snickers, you’re up first.” The sleek brown Dachshund trotted behind her.

  “Thank you so much for coming out for the Love & Paws Dog Show.” Kenny’s clear voice came from the stage. “It doesn’t matter how young or old a dog is, with the right love and attention, they can be trained to be a perfect addition to your home. Love & Paws will help you every step of the way. We want these guys—Oh, look, here they come now—we want them to find a perfect fur-ever home with you.”

  She introduced each dog as I herded them up the stairs, checking that their cards were in the right order.

  “You ready, Cujo?”

  The Morkie leaped off the stairs into my arms. “I’m trusting you with this.” I dug out the box in my pocket. “This is very expensive. You cannot eat it.”

  Cujo snapped at my fingers.

  I threaded the red ribbon through the sparkling diamond and tied a double bow at the back of his neck. “Now I expect you to do all of the tricks. And I mean all of them.” Cujo tilted his head, then yipped. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth where two teeth had to be pulled.

  The exact reason why I’d signed the adoption papers that morning. We’d fallen in love with him on sight.

  My stomach jittered and my heart was beating so loud I couldn’t hear Kenny talking anymore.

  I tucked Cujo into the crook of my arm as I climbed the steps. When I got to the top, I winked at Kenny at the podium.

  “And here he is at last.”

  The crowd cheered. People were settled on blankets, strollers were being rocked, and children were playing with dogs near the lake. A sea of people.

  Christ, I hope she said yes.

  “And say hello to my new boyfriend,” she said as I waved. “Cujo,” she finished with a grin.

  “Hey!” I said and the crowd laughed.

  Could you actually sweat through a shirt in two minutes? I was pretty sure you could.

  I cleared my throat. “So, what do you think of our superstars today?” I stopped near Snickers and patted his head.

  The crowd clapped.

  I tore away the paper hanging from his neck. The oversized brass tag had a “W” on it.

  Kenny frowned, but went with it. “Isn’t he adorable? Snickers was the top of his class this last month.”

  I moved down to the next dog and tore off his paper. The “I” jangled with the rest of the German Shepherd’s collar and tags.

  Kenny grinned. “Isn’t Isaiah gorgeous? He came to Love & Paws after his owner died suddenly.” The crowd made sympathetic noises. “He’s perfect for a home with kids. Lots of energy and just a giant marshmallow.”

  Most of the dogs were tagged with the right letter as I went down the line. It was difficult to find enough dogs who would behave next to others for me to spell out what I needed to.

  Cujo pranced and preened along behind me. Totally playing up to the crowd with all his little tricks.

  When I got to the last dog, Kenny stopped talking. The question mark tag on the Alaskan Malamute made her come out from the podium.

  A murmur went through the crowd, followed by laughter and clapping.

 
I didn’t look away from her, even when her hand went up to her mouth and she looked down and away.

  “Kenny?”

  She turned to me, her eyelashes starred.

  Cujo shot through my legs. He ran in circles around Kenny until she bent to pick him up.

  Two long strides and I was there in front of her. “What do you say?”

  She gripped my shirt. “I can’t believe you.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” She laughed when Cujo popped up between us and licked her face with a small whine. “Not bad tears.” She nuzzled the wiggling dog. “Good tears.”

  “Only good tears. I told you.” I held up the newest member of our family.

  “Oh, Hunter.” She lifted the ring hanging from the ribbon on Cujo’s chest.

  “Like it?”

  Her eyes were huge and brimming again. “Love it.”

  I untied the ribbon, the platinum and diamond winking in the sun. I dropped down to one knee in front of her. The crowd cheered as she nodded again.

  Then all the dogs ambushed me. I held up my arm as I went down. “Take it!” I yelled.

  She laughed and plucked the ring out of my hand.

  The crowd laughed. Isaiah came barreling through the crowd of mutts and pinned me to the stage, licking my face. The rest of the dogs piled on.

  “You’re not going to help me?” I asked my new fiancée.

  “Nope.” Kenny slid the ring on her finger and held it up to look at. “I’m busy.”

  I pushed away the doggie faces. “This is not the kiss I thought I would be getting.” Somehow I broke through the melee and dragged Kenny down on top of me.

  She leaned away. “You’re covered in dog drool.”

  “Too bad.”

  She laughed, using her sleeve to wipe my face.

  “I’m good now?”

  “You’re good.” She wound her arms around my neck. “I love you, you idiot.”

  “Your forever idiot.”

  Her smile was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen. “My forever idiot.”

  * * *

  Thanks for reading MANACONDA. Keys is being stalked…and Quinn isn’t about to let anyone get their hands on her. Except him. One-click MANHANDLED, Hammered Book 2.

  My name is Faith Keystone, but my friends call me Keys.

  I’m the piano player for Hammered.

  Did I mention I'm the only female in my band?

  That means I technically have five older brothers.

  Can't forget my manager and security team, too.

  Alone time is nonexistent.

  I escaped an overbearing family to join this happy circus, and most of the time it's awesome.

  Except now, because of one teensy little incident at a show.

  Now I have this hulking bodyguard shadowing me like a freaking puppy.

  Only this puppy is more like a Doberman with an attitude problem.

  And he only knows one word—NO.

  I hate that word.

  And I hate Quinn Alexander.

  The one thing I do like is giving him the slip. Is it wrong that I kinda like when he growls at me after he finds me?

  Because he always finds me.

  Worst of all? I want him so bad that I keep forgetting I hate him.

  One-click MANHANDLED now!

  We appreciate our readers so much! If you loved the book please let your friends know. That’s what this community is all about.

  If you’re so inclined, we’d love a review on your favorite book site.

  Anything But Mine

  Winchester Falls Trilogy Book 1

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, 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.

  Anything But Mine

  © 2018 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by: LateNite Designs

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First ebook edition: October 2014

  Second edition: November 2018

  Originally published under Taryn Elliott in October 2014

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  One

  Fifteen years ago, if someone had told him that a city boy from Los Angeles was going to fall hopelessly in love with a small town in upstate New York, he would have eaten his American Music Award. Logan King stepped down out of his truck a wall of heat enveloped him. Grass crunched under his flip-flops.

  The entire drive up from Manhattan he’d heard warning upon warning for campers to avoid open flames for the upcoming holiday weekend. And the way Main Street was looking, he’d have to agree.

  The sidewalks were postcard perfect, but in the distance, the rolling hillside was crispy with too many weeks of endless heat. The air was usually thick with the scent of water from the nearby falls. Not today. It was like walking into a damn oven.

  He crossed the road to the park where feather soft green grass teased his ankles. Manicured and watered as if the editors at Small Town Living Magazine were watching, the town square was perfection. Mayor Darcy wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The film crew at Music Life probably ate it up. One hundred bucks said there would be snide comment within the first segment about his adopted hometown of Winchester Falls.

  His manager was on his ass to get in front of the cameras again. Heaven forbid he lose his status in the upper echelon of the paparazzi’s most wanted lists. Or more importantly, that his shots went for anything less than top dollar.

  Twitter trending lists, billboards, concert venue banners, and the dreaded magazine covers were his bread and butter. Being a millionaire a hundred times over and the lead singer of All the King’s Men put him in the spotlight far more than he’d like.

  Logan was in town a week earlier than usual to do a one-on-one with Kim Forrester from Music Life. He’d have preferred to do an interview at his place in the city, but they needed promotion for the Summer Festival. What did it matter that this place was his only respite from the never ending reach of the telephoto lens?

  They still showed up—especially during the festival. But they didn’t ambush him around every corner. There were no socialites with twisted agendas. Here he was just Logan in the cabin by the falls. He might be a celebrity, but this town was just as happy to leave him alone as he was to stay MIA.

  Now that was going to be tainted because he had a job to do.

  And he always did his job.

  With a sigh, he followed the voices toward the center of the park. He climbed half-built stairs, dragging his palm over the bare wood. Weathered pine railings strung with fat white lights framed out a huge octagonal gazebo. A stage was built to cap the stairs and make the intricately designed structure the jewel of the Summer Festival. It was his favorite part of the stage.

  This place was his one constant. He’d played Madison Square Garden, Red Rocks, every dive club and glossy rehabbed place on the Sunset Strip, but none held as much significance as this little stage.

  He looked forward to playing it every summer. No matter how packed his schedule was, he put aside the last weekend in August for the Summer Festival. Always gave back to this town.

  But now his stage was covered in cameras and wires. Music Life’s crew took pictures and set up both a stationary camera and guy with a mobile rig. The mayor was holding court with her little underling, Kevin, at the ready.

  Don’t panic. Don’t run.

  He took another step, his insides cramping at the
couple dozen fans herded along the side of the stage. She wasn’t here. This place was too small town for her.

  It didn’t stop him from scanning every face.

  Someone spotted him and he switched on his social smile. The almost smile that photographed well. The one that sold papers and left shrieking fans in his wake. But it was also a mask. If they knew the real Logan, they’d never leave him alone. The tabloids already salivated over him. If they knew about the little voice that ramped up the panic, they’d descend on him like a pack of wolves.

  And he’d never let that happen.

  So he kicked up his smile and held a hand out to the producer who crossed the stage to him. His name slid into place as easily as a chord progression. It was his gift and one of the reasons he’d gotten where he was today.

  “Steve, thanks so much for making the trip out.”

  “I don’t know what brings you back out here every year, Logan. This is a speck of nothing in the middle of the goddamn wilderness.”

  His speck, his perfect oasis. The fact that no one understood that made it even more apparent that he would always need Winchester Falls. Whether his net worth was one thousand or one hundred million dollars, it didn’t matter. This was home.

  But that was for him and not the world. He slapped Steve’s arm. “I like to give back and the bands I have coming in are more than worth your drive out.”