Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (11 page)

“You didn’t even try,” he huffed.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were racing,” I playfully responded. He smiled and I felt it in places I shouldn’t.

“That’s okay. Your bum knee would have slowed you down anyway.” He was taunting me and I wasn’t biting. “Speaking of your knee, you never did tell me what happened.” I knew he would go there again, just not so soon. Hank dropped back behind us and I suddenly felt vulnerable.

“Tell me about rehab,” I challenged.

“Ladies first,” he smiled, and I fought back a groan of frustration.

When I failed to respond he picked up the pace. My knee began to protest. Instead of listening to the warning signs and slowing down, I sped up. Grant let out an evil chuckle as he passed by me and soon we were sprinting down the street. I was competitive to a fault. Apparently so was he. After a minute or so of dick measuring I reluctantly gave in and slowed down. When Grant discovered I was no longer beside him he pulled back. His concerned expression sealed the deal. Grant Hardy was a genuinely good guy.

“You okay? I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was stupid of me,” he stammered.

“I’m fine,” I panted, and waved off his concern. We jogged along in silence for a few minutes and finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and blurted, “I had an accident.”

“No shit?”

Ignoring his sarcastic tone, I panted, “Your turn.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “you have to give me more than that, sweetheart.” He was a smooth talker, I’d give him that. Instead of focusing on how much I liked him calling me sweetheart, I thought about how much to tell him about my accident and decided to go with facts and not details.

“Fine, I injured it in a ski accident when I was in my late teens.”

“You ski?”

Ignoring his surprised tone I dished his words back to him, “Uh-uh-uh, your turn.”

He hesitated for a second and, just when I thought he was about to blow me off, he said, “Rehab was pointless.” I thought about how to respond. I wanted him to elaborate but didn’t want to push too hard. It was all about finding the perfect balance, if there was such a thing.

“Pointless how?” I asked.

“You ski?” he shot back at me. His dramatically quirked eyebrow made me smile.

“I did. That is, I did until I hurt my knee,” I quickly retorted, and then repeated, “Pointless how?”

“Rehab is pointless when you don’t have a problem.”

“I have yet to meet an addict who admits they have a problem.” I could tell that my flippant remark pissed him off and I wanted to kick myself for making it.

“Yeah? Well there’s a first for everything,” he snapped, and took off down the hill. This time I didn’t follow after him.

By the time Hank and I caught up with him we were already back at the hotel. As I made my way up to my suite to shower I reflected back on our conversation. How I ended up giving more information than I received was beyond me. I was going to have to watch Grant. He was good at subterfuge.

I would just have to be better.

Don’t You Dare Quit Your Day Job

Grant

W
hat am I
doing?
I asked myself for the millionth time. The second I saw her standing there in that ridiculous outfit I wanted her. She was the plant, the narc, the fruit hanging from the forbidden tree, and I was most definitely the snake. One minute we were taunting each other and the next she was challenging me to a race. A fucking race! Was she crazy? The second I stopped laughing I took off after her. Rule number one, never throw out a challenge you can’t win. We raced like two children down the streets of Houston and for the first time in a very long time I felt alive. So deep was I in my need to beat her, however, that I didn’t even consider her bum knee. It wasn’t until she let out a hiss of pain and began to slow her pace that I realized how much it was bothering her. I was an asshole, plain and simple. As she jogged along beside me, obviously in discomfort, a million thoughts rushed through my head, one of which was how to get Hank to go fetch the car without embarrassing her. Mallory Scott was proud, strong, beautiful… and the enemy. She was also in pain.

“You okay? I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was stupid of me,” I told her.

She let out a cute little snort and waved her hand in the air. “I’m fine.” Her heavy breathing and slight limp said different but I didn’t dare challenge her. I made sure to slow way down to a light jog. “I had an accident,” she announced, as if I hadn’t already figured that out for myself.

“No shit?”

“Your turn,” she dryly replied. I wasn’t sure but I think she rolled her eyes at me. Her ability to ignore my bullshit was impressive. It was also annoying and made me want to poke the bear, pick the scab, to fuck with her head just to see how far I could take it before she called me out on my bullshit.

“Uh-uh-uh, you have to give me more than that, sweetheart,” I taunted. The hell if I was dishing without getting something in return. Nothing was for free, especially not in the world I came from.

“Fine, I injured it in a ski accident when I was in my late teens,” she huffed. I couldn’t help but smile. A pissy Mallory was like a Christmas and birthday rolled into one.

“You ski?” I asked. I’d been skiing a few times. Just last year we took a much needed break and flew to Colorado to ski for a week. Blane rented out the entire resort so we could have some peace and quiet. We still partied but we managed to keep most of it on the down low.

“Uh-uh-uh, your turn,” she threw back at me. Sassy Mallory was cute. I tried not to stare at her body but my eyes kept wandering to that tight ass and those muscular legs. Clearly she worked out. A few times she turned and I got a glimpse of her taught stomach through the gaping sleeves of her shirt and I wondered what drove her. She glanced over at me as if waiting for something and I realized I hadn’t answered her question. I thought about how much to give her and decided on the bare minimum. She had my file. She could read it.

“Rehab was pointless,” I told her.

“Pointless how?”

Nope, it was her turn. “You ski?” I asked.

“I did. That is, I did until I hurt my knee,” she fired back at me, and followed it with a, “Pointless how?”

Without thinking, I blurted, “Rehab is pointless when you don’t have a problem.” The second the words left my lips I wanted to take them back.

“I have yet to meet an addict who admits they have a problem.” Her tone said it all. She no more believed me than the guys did, except for Chaz. Chaz believed me. Mallory Scott was just like all the rest and I was a fucking idiot for thinking she wasn’t. She was the sign in the store that said, “Look But Don’t Touch.”

“Yeah? Well there’s a first for everything,” I snapped back at her. Before she could say another word I took off down the street. Fuck her and her knee. I was many things but a fool wasn’t one of them.

By nine sharp we were loaded on the bus and waiting for Blane…and Mallory. I’d had time to shower and get my head on straight. I shouldn’t have let her get to me and regretted biting her head off. This was personal to me but only a job for her. I needed to remember that. Just when I thought I’d scared her away and was going to have to go retrieve her I spotted her walking toward the bus with Blane. The bus was configured like most tour busses. The front had a place for the driver and few bucket seats. The right side held four bunks. Across from the bunks was a small kitchen, a booth and a long table for eating and playing cards, which we did a lot of. The very back of the bus held a bathroom with a small shower and a bedroom with a double bed. We also had a large screen television, a kick ass stereo and an Xbox. It was home away from home for the band. Mallory would most likely hate it. I watched her step onto the bus and smile at everyone. My dick jumped to attention. I’d given him plenty of hands on attention in the shower earlier. He should be happy and sated but no, every time Mallory was in the vicinity he perked right up. Blane stood at the front of the bus and Mallory sat in one of the bucket chairs behind him.

“Tomorrow night we’ll be in Atlanta. Like Texas, Atlanta is hot in the summer. Make sure you drink plenty of water and preserve your voices. I didn’t stock any alcohol on the bus for a reason,” Blane announced. Everyone booed him, including me. Eighteen hours was long enough, but without booze to ease the monotony it was an eternity. Blane turned to Mallory and said, “I can get you a plane ticket if you’d like?”

“Mallory is riding with us,” I spoke up. All eyes shot to me and I held my ground. If we had to ride eighteen hours, so did she. Mallory gave me a strange look and I felt the need to say something. “You’re being paid to rehab me, correct?”

A look of disbelief appeared on her face. “And you’re going to let me?” she asked. She had me there. If I demanded she stay then I was going to have to talk to her at some point.
Damn!
Her lips melted into a knowing smirk and she turned to Blane. “I’ll take you up on that ticket.”

“Fine,” I practically shouted, “we can talk.” I didn’t say how much or for how long but at least it was enough to keep her on the bus.

After a few parting words Blane took off and we were on our way. Normally we would all Pow Wow about how the tour was going. Today we split into four different directions. Luke got on the Xbox and Chaz on his computer, while Nash took the back bedroom. I pulled out my pad and guitar and tried not to stare at Mallory.

Why did I insist on her staying with us?
The thought of Blane getting his claws into her bothered me. I thought he was my friend, but he was nothing but a liar and a cheat. As soon as our contract was over, we were out. That is, unless I figured a way out before then. Somehow I needed to convince the guys this was the right move. I had yet to tell them about Blane’s little gambling problem. Something told me that when I divulged that little nugget of information they’d see things my way.

For the next hour I played around with a song I’d been working on in rehab. It was fast paced and needed some tweaking but I liked it. A few times I glanced up at Mallory who was busy listening to music. At one point I noticed her ear closest to me was missing an earbud.
See? I knew she wasn’t immune to me.
With her back to me and her head tilted down in concentration, I wondered what held her attention. As usual her hair was up in that ugly ass bun thingy. However, it gave me a perfect view of her neck. I bet she’d lose her mind if I crept up behind her and ran my tongue up her… I paused mid-thought.
What the fuck am I thinking?
Disgusted with myself and her, not to mention my perpetually hard dick, I started playing Clapton’s
Cocaine
. After singing the main chorus I shifted into
Why Don’t We Get Drunk.
Mallory turned around right as I sang, “And screw.” Zac Brown’s
Beautiful Drug
was up next. She watched me like a hawk and her eyes widened in surprise when I sang “Got a death wish baby, baby, don’t want you to save me, save me,” directly to her. My mind wandered from the song to her baby blues. Seductress came to mind, or better yet, Siren. Beautiful and dangerous with the ability to lure men in with her looks and voice, yep, that was Mallory Scott. Forget the coke, pills and booze, I had this fucking woman, with her perfect body and grandma bun to contend with, and she was proving to be more powerful than any drug. I finished off the medley with
Can’t Feel My Face,
by the Weeknd. When Mallory swiveled the chair around and start belting out the lyrics to the song I fumbled the notes.
On second thought, maybe not her voice
. Holy shit! I tried not to cringe but damn, her voice was beyond awful. It was outright hideous.

At the same time Luke hit pause on his game, Chaz looked up from the computer and Nash flung open the bedroom door. I tried not to laugh at their horrified expressions. Nash motioned me to keep playing and disappeared back in the room. I thought he was going for his phone. If I had a video of Mallory singing I could blackmail her. The thought made me downright giddy. The next thing I knew Nash had his guitar out and the three idiots were singing along with her. I wanted to get a rise out of Mallory, not invite her to a fucking kindergarten sing-along. When the song was over Mallory jumped up and down and clapped her hands in excitement. Not able to stand it any longer, I started laughing. Pretty soon we were all howling with laughter. Mallory Scott had the worst voice ever but she’d managed to do what no one else could. She’d brought us all together.

After the sing-along everyone returned to their respective corners. I played a few rounds of Call of Duty with Luke before heading to my bunk for a nap. Right as I was drifting off I heard something drop right outside my bunk. Glancing down below my curtain I noticed a pair of shoes, women’s navy Converse to be exact.

“What do you want, Mallory?” I asked through the curtain.

The curtain shifted and then her face appeared. “It seems all the bunks are taken,” she breathily replied. I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say so I remained silent. “Except for this one,” she pointed down at the bunk below me. She had to be kidding. There was no way in hell I was sharing a bunk with her.