Playing With Fire: Grindstone Harbor, #2

Chapter One

Welcome to Slutbag City: Population Me.

Quinn

F ucking piss sticks . Staring down at the tests lining the bathroom counter, I continue to mentally kick my own ass. The six white pieces of plastic in front of me only add to that. Silently, they mock me with their guarantee of ninety-nine percent accuracy. Twelve pink little lines, all telling me what I swore would never happen to me.

Pregnant.

Just fucking perfect.

Welcome to Slutbag City. Looking into the mirror, I narrow my eyes at my own reflection. Population me.

Fucker’s remorse is an ugly thing.

Bristol walks into the bathroom, taking in the scene of my impending nervous breakdown. Her eyes widen. How many of those damn have you taken?

Today? I ask, turning to face my best friend, instead of meeting her eyes in the mirror. Only half a dozen.

Only, she emphasizes the world with a sarcastic laugh. I thought we put this denial shit to bed when the doctor gave you a due date.

Doctors fuck up all the time, I argue, shrugging one shoulder. Maybe he’s a whack job who has a raging alcoholic for an office manager. That bitch looked like the type. I’m starting to wonder if she didn’t mix up all my lab work with some breeding mare with eleven kids and twins on the way. Shit like that happens you know.

You’ve been watching too much Lifetime Movie Network. I roll my eyes at her comment. None of your conspiracy theories change the fact that there’s a tiny little peanut growing in there. Poking my still flat stomach, she smirks. That’s definitely happening.

It’s not a peanut. Slapping her hand away, I scowl at her. It’s a freaking baby. Do you even know what that means?

Mhm. Tossing her black hair over her shoulder, she purses her lips. It means you inserted peg D into slot V without first securing the proper safety gear. That’s rule one in the sexy times handbook.

I need a drink. Sagging back against the wall, I slide down until my ass hits the tile. Can my baby shower registry be at a liquor store?

I’ll buy you a bottomless margarita, she offers, flashing me a big grin. As soon as you push that kid out.

Fuck me. Sighing, I press my palm to my forehead.

That’s exactly how you got yourself into this little predicament, sweet cheeks. Pointing a finger at me, she narrows her eyes. Fucking.

Gee, thanks. You’re almost as helpful as the damn piss sticks. Flicking the little pink hoop in my lip back and forth with my tongue, I look up at her, tears filling my eyes. I kill houseplants. What the hell am I gonna do with a baby?

Whoa, whoa, she blurts, holding up both hands. Lock up those hormones, woman. I can’t do tears.

Suck a dick, I mutter, swiping away an escaping tear. Quinn Baker doesn’t cry.

Exactly. Grabbing my hands, she yanks me to my feet. Are you ready to tell the guys? Her lips quirk up into a know-it-all bitch smile. Evan already knows something’s up.

I’d rather spend the rest of my life barefoot on an escalator made of Legos and broken glass, I breathe wrapping my arms around myself. No chance I can wait ‘til my water breaks and yell ‘surprise’?

Maybe, B replies quickly. Though I figure they’ll start asking questions when you start looking like you swallowed a beach ball.

Oh God, I groan. I’m so screwed.

Yes, she fires back with a giggle. Start with that, then end with ‘shit happens’.

Shit happens? I laugh sarcastically. Sure. Or how about I lead off with ‘hey guys, how was your flight? Can I get you a beer? Also, I’m knocked up by either Evan or Tanner. Yep, no control over my vagina here at all. She’s a rogue twat.’ I’m just the hot mess along for the ride.

Would you stop being so dramatic? she scolds, smacking my arm.

Would you stop hitting me? I fire back, shoving her away. I have a right to freak out. The only sex I’ve had in the last six months that wasn’t battery driven, happened with two different men, in the span of a few hours.

Sorry. Looking up at the ceiling, she takes a deep breath, appearing to be collecting her thoughts. After a moment, she meets my eyes again, her lips twitching in amusement. I need to interrupt this heart to heart, best friend moment for a what the fuck, Fanny news update. What happened to being ‘indifferent’ and all that shit when it came to Tanner? she asks, quoting the words I used when assuring her that I felt nothing for our friend and bandmate. Is indifferent codeword for down to fuck?

I never planned to have sex with Tanner, I huff, angry at the world. It just sorta happened. I deflate, my shoulders sagging. Both times.

Whoa! Whoa! Both times? Bristol asks, shaking her head in disbelief. How the hell do you accidentally have sex with someone, unprotected, more than once in the same day?

For your information, it wasn’t the same day. Shoving by her, I start tossing the tests and empty boxes into the trashcan. The second time with Tanner was after midnight. On Tage’s couch.

Aw. Come on! She narrows her eyes. You and your rogue twat just ruined my favorite downstairs sexing place.

It was a horrible night for all of us, I say, the memories flashing back vividly. I thought we’d lost both of you. One minute he was holding me while I cried, the next—

La-la-la-la, Bristol interrupts, covering her ears. Stop right there, sugar tits. The last thing I want is a mental picture of that shit.

I wish I could forget it too, I admit, letting my regret take hold. Sex with Tanner wasn’t bad. It was actually the complete opposite. The problem was waking up the next morning to find that he had taken off without so much as a goodbye and headed back to California.

Okay, Bristol groans, dropping her hands. Let’s focus more on the baby and less on the couch I need to tell Tage we have to burn.

Now who’s being dramatic? I deadpan.

Fine. Sliding her hand into mine, she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Let’s think of the positives. Evan will more than likely be cool about this. He already loves being called Big Daddy. Stopping, she gags the second the words leave her lips. Yep, she chokes out. That was almost vomit.

Nope, I reply immediately, shaking my head. I never called him that.

Good.  Relief floods her face. There’s not enough bleach in the world to clean that level of sexual TMI from my brain.

What happens if it’s Tanner’s? I ask, knowing it is too early to tell which guy has Olympic grade back-strokers for spunk soldiers.

Although, since he got a second crack at the goods, the odds are in Tanner’s favor.

Or should I say against him?

Probably a toss-up at this point.

Hmm. Bristol shrugs. I can put out feelers for a new lead guitarist while you work on securing Greer’s alibi? Hands on my hips, I gape at her. Though, if I’m being totally honest, she isn’t too far off the mark. My brother is protective of me, and I all but guarantee he will lose his shit when he finds out. I’m kidding. Nudging me with her hip, she laughs. I’m pretty sure no one will die. I just wanted you to see someone acting as freaking crazy as you are. Hooking an arm around my shoulders, she flashes me a huge smile. Come on, baby momma. Evan’s on his way back with the guys now.

Once I have taken a minute to get my head together, Bristol nearly drags my ass downstairs. Her man, Tage, sits waiting by the front door. His horse of a dog, Moo, is sleeping soundly at his feet beside a mangled package of Golden Oreos. The Great Dane is probably the most spoiled canine I have ever met. His overly protective nature, when it comes to Bristol, and his stealth breaking and entering skills that potentially saved her from the crazy stalker that nearly killed both her and Tanner months ago, have earned the dog a permanent get out of trouble free card that he cashes in every chance he gets.

The only thing bigger than the dog’s ego these days is his appetite.

I had those hidden on top of the fridge, I mutter, shaking my head at the insanity that is Moo the ninja dog.

Sorry, Tage chuckles, glancing down at the snoring snack snatcher. I’ll pick up more tonight.

There’s four more packs in E’s snack cabinet, Bristol says dismissively. Code on the combination lock is oh-six-nine.

He changed it after you spiked his chili with Tylenol PM and ate all his marshmallow cereal, I correct her. It’s probably six-nine-oh.

Hateful prick, she mumbles, tapping her pursed lips with her index finger. I wonder how much Felix would charge me to roll those boneless wings E loves so much in powdered laxative and Benadryl.

Hey, babe. Tage pushes to his feet. How ‘bout we don’t do that? Unc doesn’t need any encouragement when it comes to terrorizing Evan.

He’s got ya there, I admit, nodding in agreement. It’s a natural talent.

Fine, Bristol sighs, heading for Tage. I have no problem working solo. Pushing up on her toes, Bristol presses a kiss to Tage’s jaw. His arm comes around her waist, his other hand coming around to cup her cheek. Now, let’s talk about what it’s gonna take for you to take me for a ride in the beast.

Mmm, Tage purrs. Tilting her face, he captures her lips before pulling back to smile down at her. Does this ride require me taking my top off?

God, I love your dirty Jeep talk. Laughing softly, she throws her head back dramatically. Say it again.

So much nausea. Stepping out onto the porch, I see Evan pulling through the gates. Tearing up the driveway, he lays on the horn. I’m surrounded by insanity.

The passenger door opens, my brother taking his precious time unbuckling his seatbelt before his boots hit the gravel driveway. Hey, stranger. Charging toward me, he squeezes me tight, lifting me off my feet. I’ve missed the shit out of you.

I can tell, I breathe.

Greer and I have always been close, even though we are polar opposites. While I am more wild, free and unfiltered, Greer is hesitant and ridiculously controlled. Though he has always given me the room to run when I needed it. For the most part. Being my fiercest protector and biggest cheerleader is just how he is wired. Although, I will admit the protector part is fucking annoying.

What the hell is this shit? Evan asks, obviously feeling left out. Didn’t anyone miss me?

Quick! Bristol shouts, coming up behind us. Someone touch E’s ass. The big whore isn’t getting enough attention.

Hey, B. My brother pulls her into his arms with me, giving us both a quick squeeze. Ready to get to work?

Hell yes. Her smile lights up her entire face. I’ve been dying to get back behind the mic.

Tomorrow, Evan blurts, crossing his arms over his chest smugly. Tonight is poker night at The Penalty Box. Prepare to have your asses handed to you, mother bitches.

Bristol and I look at E, both of us narrowing our eyes skeptically. Name one time in the last month you’ve won a single hand, I taunt.

Shit, Bristol laughs. Name one time since we got here.

Then I feel a familiar set eyes on me. Hey. The deep timbre of Tanner’s voice wraps around me.

Releasing my hold on Greer, I turn to face Tanner. His curly brown hair has been cut short, the front spiked up, giving me an unobstructed view of his face. Days of coarse stubble covers his jaw, giving him a harder edge than usual. His brown eyes seem darker. Haunted. Though I guess that has a lot to do with what happened to him and Bristol the last time he was here. The way he left and has spent the last few months distancing himself from everyone, I have to admit I am surprised he agreed to come back here at all.

That doesn’t mean I forgive him for leaving without saying goodbye. In that moment it wasn’t about sex or lust. We needed each other. The emotional ache that had been building within me that day had reached its breaking point. When the adrenaline dissipated, and I fell apart under the weight of the strain, Tanner held out his arms and gave me that safe place to shatter. The last thing I expected was for him to take off after I let my guard down.

Hey, I reply, though it lacks my usual warmth.

How about we head inside? Bristol asks, clearing her throat. Once you’re settled we can head out.

Yanking his keys from his pocket, Tage tosses them to Tanner. Guest room’s all yours.

Thanks, man. Tage nods in response before following behind Bristol and heading inside. Cue instantaneous awkwardness. Tanner doesn’t move. Neither do I. When the screen door slaps closed behind my brother, Tanner takes a deep breath and bows his head. Can we talk? he asks, keeping his voice low.

Now you want to talk? I ask, letting my hurt get in the way of rational thinking. Sorry, I didn’t get the memo where we are breaking radio silence.

I fucked up... he stops, letting the thought hang unfinished in the air.

When you ran off with your tail between your legs after fucking me? I ask, happy to finish for him in my own words. Believe it or not, Tanner, I remember how it went down. Both times, in fact. I won’t be needing a highlight reel.

Quinn, he says, quick to argue. I was—

Running. Cutting him off, I turn my icy glare his way. Why? No one’s chasing you.

Fuck, he bites out, yanking a hand through his hair. His eyes drop to his feet. Taking several breaths, he looks up again, his eyes softening, regret filling his face. I’m sorry.

The apology not only hurts, it pisses me off. Just like it did when he said it after we had sex the first time. How dare him show up here after ignoring my calls and texts for months and throw some sad ass sorry at me like it changes anything.

You know what? I bite out, turning my back to him. Find a priest if you need to give a confessional. I’ve got no desire to ease the guilt you feel about where you’ve stuck your dick.

Don’t walk away like this, Quinn.

At least you get to watch me go. Waving him off with a dismissive hand, I round the side of the house, choosing to seek my comfort in the coastline. I know that I shouldn’t walk away without telling him about the baby. My nose burns, my eyes filling with tears that I forbid to let fall in front of him. It will be a cold day in hell before Tanner sees me cry. The rational part of me knows I should tell him and Evan both, right now. However, the bitch in me wants to beat the shit out of Tanner with a wiffleball bat like a life-sized piñata.

And then maybe sit on his face.

Sometimes, my inner bitch is just as horny as she is violent.

Regardless of the current pent up emotions currently churning in my stomach, or my inner struggle with right and wrong protocol for how to tell everyone about my current uterine invader, I decide the best thing to do is to be as far from Tanner as possible. After all, finding a new guitarist while recording the new album would be a pain in the ass.

By the time my ass hits the sand, tears are freely slipping down my cheeks. Fucking hormones. Swiping at them angrily, I bitch myself out for being such an unstable basket case, while at the same time thankful that Tanner decided not to follow me out here to continue our conversation. I am not prepared for what that would have done to the emotional overload raging through me, thanks to the little uterus hijacker, hellbent on fucking up my ability to pull off my flawless resting bitch face.

Looking down at my stomach, I scowl. At this rate, the kid is going to be grounded until he or she is thirty. Especially if, after I spend hours pushing it out of my vagina, the little traitor comes out looking like Tanner fucking Hewitt.

Chapter Two

Geriatric Sexism and a Smirking Asshole

Quinn

After taking some much needed time to get my shit together, I dig deep enough to find an inner voice that doesn’t have homicidal tendencies, and head up to my room to get ready for our night out. The ride into town could have been awkward, given that we were all cooped up inside the SUV together, but there is little time to focus on the thickening tension with Evan bitching the entire drive about how late we are.

Evan Pahl doesn’t mess around when it comes to the weekly poker night with Tage’s uncle and his friends or missing out on an opportunity to get his grubby paws on unlimited amounts of chicken wings. If you ask me, Tage has to be rethinking that whole all you can eat concept since E came to town. The big guy is a bottomless pit, goal-oriented on eating his weight in wings any chance he gets.

With no game on tonight, the crowd at the bar Tage owns with his uncle Felix starts to thin out after the dinner rush. Felix’s buddies, Bob and Jimmy, are setting up the tables when we walk in. Wasn’t sure you’d show up tonight, Tiny, Bob says, taunting Evan. When he looks my way, the old man’s smile widens. Hello, beautiful. Come to run away with me?

You know it, I call out, blowing him a kiss. I’m a sucker for a man who wears socks with sandals.

Pony up the dough if you want in, boys, Jimmy blurts, shuffling the cards.

What about us girls? I ask, quirking a brow. You ever planning to deal us in?

Jimmy and Bob alternate between looking at me, then each other. You sure you don’t want to just watch, sweetheart? Bob asks, sweetly. I’ve seen men leave this table in tears.

Goddammit! Evan shouts from the bar where he stands talking to our usual waitress, Jodi. I told you it was the hot sauce.

Horseshit, Bob chuckles.

Leave ‘em alone, Bob, Felix shouts through the window in the wall. Tiny can’t help it if his taste buds are as fragile as his ego.

Scowling, Evan looks my way. I’m cutting the brakes on his scooter as soon as we get home.

That’s a thing we won’t be doing. Grabbing some cash from my back pocket, I walk across the room like I own the place and toss it down on the table. Deal me in. Ignoring the piercing set of brown eyes I feel burning at my backside, I smile. Tears aren’t my thing, sweetheart. They’d ruin my mascara.

Hell yes! Following behind me, Bristol tosses down cash of her own. I’m in too.

Now, wait just a damn minute, Bob blurts, wagging his finger at the money. All the previous sweetness and harmless flirtation in his tone gone. Do you have any idea how many years we’ve had these weekly poker nights?

It was a cold Tuesday night, Tage says, striding into the room. Looking at the guys, he gives them a mock salute. In fourteen hundred and ninety two...

Very funny, shithead. Bob’s eyes shoot to him, hardening. Point is, no women have ever been dealt in.

Nope. Jimmy shakes his head. Doesn’t happen.

Sounds like you are a bunch of geriatric sexists if you ask me, I fire back, hitching my hand on my hip.

The fact is, cards is a man’s game. Plain and simple.

Yep, Bob agrees. No offense, men are just better at things like this. You understand.

Uh oh, my brother chuckles, looking to Tage. Leaning back against the bar, he trains his eyes on me, anticipation written all over his face. Ever seen a shark’s eyes when they catch a taste of blood in the water?

Yeah. Mirroring Greer’s stance, Tage scratches his chin thoughtfully. But I’ve never seen a fish willingly cut off their own tail.

Hmm. My eyes narrow on Jimmy and Bob. To me, it sounds like maybe you old men are scared of being beaten by a girl, I taunt, batting my lashes innocently.

Seriously, what is it with the men around here? Having a dick doesn’t give you a free pass to be one. It also doesn’t make him better than me at anything because of an extra appendage. Now, I’m determined to prove that very thing to every pair of cock and balls in this place too stubborn to see it.

For the record, I’d like to say that I’ve got no problem being beaten by a girl, E says, holding up his hand