Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (28 page)

The name of the person who picked up the pills was Sarah Harmon.
Who in the fuck is Sarah Harmon?
Disappointment sat like a bitter pill on my tongue.

“Who does it say?” Mallory asked from behind me.

“Is there anything else you can give me? Like an address or driver’s license number?” I asked.

“Not without a court order,” she stiffly replied.

Grabbing the pills and the paper, I thanked her. Then I turned and angrily stalked across the store.

“Grant. Wait!” Mallory called after me. If I didn’t get out of that place I was going to lose my mind.

Hank and Nash were standing by the car when I busted out of the pharmacy. Nash took one look at me said, “Fuck, it was Blane wasn’t it?”

“No. It wasn’t Kirkland either,” I told them.

“Then who was it,” Hank asked.

“Sarah Harmon.”

Mallory stepped up beside me and asked, “Who?”

“Sarah Harmon,” I repeated. We stood there staring at each other with blank expressions.

“I take it no one knows who in the hell that is?” Nash asked.

“Nope, fuck no, have no idea,” we all answered. Once again we’d hit a dead end.

The mood in the car on the way to drop Hank off was somber. After saying our goodbyes, we headed for Austin. We may have hit another road block, but at least there was an upside to the end of such a shitty day.

I was finally taking my girl home.

Coming Home

Mallory

A
nother dead end.
I was so sure either Blane or Kirkland’s name was going to be on that ledger. Disappointment turned to anger and rendered me completely speechless, which was a rare occurrence. The look on Grant’s face as he turned and walked out of the pharmacy made me want to cry.
Who in the world is Sarah Harmon? Maybe she works for Kirkland? Then again, maybe this is all one big wild goose chase. I shouldn’t have pushed Grant to come here. I shouldn’t even be here.

After dropping Nash off at his mom’s house, Grant drove us into the hills of Austin and onto a deserted looking road. Less than a quarter of a mile down the road he turned onto a rustic one lane drive and paused before an enormous black wrought iron gate. While waiting for him to punch numbers into a keypad I scanned our surroundings. As far as the eye could see, trees, plants, shrubs and foliage, all in varying shades of green, stood, draped, hung and flowed. According to Grant, this much greenery was rare for Texas. I found it beautiful yet slightly suffocating. Suddenly, I spotted it through the gently swaying trees.
Grant’s house
. The gate slowly opened and we proceeded around the bend and up a long drive. I craned my neck for a better view and finally got it once we cleared the trees. Grant pulled us around a circular drive and pulled the car to a stop as I stared open mouthed at what was easily the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. It looked as if someone had taken an English countryside manor and placed it in the hills of Austin, Texas. Ivy clung to the brick and flowers hung from window boxes. I turned to say something and stopped short when I saw the look on Grant’s face. It was a look I knew well, as I had felt it my entire childhood. He was home.

His eyes drifted from the house to me and he smiled. “Welcome to my home.”

While Grant quickly unloaded the car I stood in the driveway gawking at the house. “Come on,” he said, as he grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the front door. The moment we stepped through the threshold his phone rang. He paused to see who was calling and let out a loud sigh. “It’s my mom. I probably should take this.”

After convincing him I was fine to be left on my own, he disappeared into what I assumed was his office and I began to explore. My first stop was his ridiculously large state of the art kitchen. My kitchen was nothing to sneeze about, but this…this was beyond decadent. Two steps down from the kitchen was a living area, which was tastefully decorated in masculine colors. The stones used for the fireplace tied in perfectly with the backsplash in the kitchen and the curtains coordinated with the throw pillows. Either Grant hired a decorator with exceptionally good taste or he clearly missed his calling in life. Floor to ceiling windows spanned the back of the living room and gorgeous French doors opened onto an expansive balcony. Before stepping outside to check out the view, I inspected the rest of the downstairs. To the left of the kitchen was a hallway that led to an enormous theater room and two guest bedrooms. As I’d predicted, Grant’s office was to the right, as was a laundry room, an informal study, which was also done in masculine colors, and a half bath. I wanted to wait for Grant to get off the phone before venturing upstairs, so I moseyed back toward the kitchen and paused outside his office door. The sound of his laughter poured from the crack in the door and I smiled. He was clearly happy to be home. I wanted to see his office, but I didn’t want to bother him. This was uncharted territory for me and I wasn’t quite sure how to navigate it. In the end, I left him to his own devices and headed for the balcony, where I was greeted by cushy seating and one of the most breathtaking views.

As I leaned against the balcony railing and stared down at the pool below, I was once again plagued by doubts. Grant was under the assumption that I was recovering addict Mallory Scott. The Mallory Scott who pulled herself from the jaws of addiction, put her life back together, and now counseled the lost and unfortunate back to good mental standing. After years of hard work I’d earned that title, but deep inside I was still Mallory Stephens, the girl who fell short of competing in the Olympics due to vanity and stupidity. I would forever be that weak, pathetic girl who sold her friends and family out for a fix. The girl who was so messed up that she got behind the wheel and almost killed three innocent people. I was both the girl who would never forgive herself for the pain and suffering she’d caused and the woman who helped others not make the same mistakes. I craved redemption and longed for forgiveness, but I didn’t deserve either. Falling in love should be off limits for a woman like me, but it was too late. I was tumbling head first and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Grant whispered in my ear. I jumped in surprise and he chuckled. His arms slid around my waist and I quickly shoved my doubts back inside their little box. One day Grant would know all of me, but being that it had taken most of the drive to Austin and the short visit with Nash’s mom to get him out of his bad mood, I wasn’t about to send him right back there again. No, this was not the day for ugly secrets.

Shaking the negative thoughts from my head, I spun around and planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Is everything okay with your parents?”

“Yep, they were just finalizing plans for New York.”

“Have they seen many of your concerts?”

“A few.” His lips grazed the side of my neck and I shivered. “When it comes to music, my parents are more old-school.”

“I bet they like Cat Stevens,” I teased.

“Cat Stevens, Barbara Streisand, Neil Diamond, Paul Simon.” His bored tone was funny. I laughed as he spun me back around to face the beautiful view and hummed a few bars of
Hard Headed Woman
.

“I’m really not that hard headed.”

“Whatever you say,” he quietly murmured against the side of my head.

As I stood in his arms watching the sun fade from the sky, I soaked up every last detail. I knew that when the time came for us to say goodbye all that would remain were memories, sweet, sweet memories. I had to make them count. The house was beautiful, the sunset was magical and I was in love. “I can see why you bought this place. It’s absolutely perfect.”

“It’s perfect with you here,” he corrected.

“Grant,” I sighed. Why did he have to say things like that?

“Shhh,” he said against my neck, “Just let me enjoy the moment.” We stood wrapped in each other until the sun was gone and the moon was high in the sky.

When we finally made our way back inside, we were greeted by an elderly woman. She was wearing a chef’s apron, chopping vegetables and standing behind the kitchen counter. The second she saw us, she let out an excited squeal. After wiping her hands on a dishtowel she scurried out from behind the island and held out her arms. With a huge grin on his face, Grant stepped in and gave her a big hug.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. I watched her rub his back in a motherly fashion and wondered if they were related.

After the reunion, Grant stepped back and threw his arm around my shoulder. My heart warmed at his show of possessiveness. “Ava, this is Mallory. Mallory, this is Ava. Ava is my chef, my friend and head of my house. In all things house related I defer to her.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ava,” I greeted.

She looked back and forth between the two of us with a huge smile on her face. Then she shot Grant a scowl and, in a teasing voice said, “It took you long enough.”

Grant laughed. Then he turned to me and explained, “Ava thinks it’s time I grow up and settle down.”

“That’s not what I said,” she huffed. “I said I don’t like seeing you so lonely.” She turned to me and smiled. “You, pretty girl, are just what he needs. Now, are we having wine? How about a nice cheese appetizer before dinner? Please tell me you like fish, Mallory? I found some of the loveliest Scottish salmon at the market today.”

“No wine for me, thanks. I love cheese and I love salmon, but first, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to unpack and take a quick shower.” The grime of the day was beginning to stick. I needed to wash it away.

“Give us an hour and we’ll be down,” Grant told her. Then he grabbed my hand and led me up a wide staircase, down a long hall and into a huge bedroom. Like the rest of the house, the room was tastefully decorated. The black and white color scheme was modern yet still in keeping with the rest of the house. Plush white carpet called to my bare feet. The furniture was lovely and the bed, with its white comforter and black throw pillows, was massive. The dark furniture worked well with the white striped floor to ceiling curtains. The contrast against the white walls and black and white swirled marble fireplace was well orchestrated.

“Your bags are in the bathroom,” Grant announced. “Here, let me show you.” I followed him across the room and into one of the largest bathrooms I’d ever seen. Like the bedroom, the bathroom was also done in black and white. All it took was one look at the enormous jetted tub and I was a goner. Grant laughed when I groaned out loud. “The closet with your bags is there.” He pointed to an open doorway. “Go ahead and start the shower. I have a quick call to make and then I’ll join you.” Sensing my disappointment, he said, “I promise, you’ll be happy I made this call.” Then he swatted me on the butt and strolled out of the bathroom.

Grant never showed for the shower. I had a sneaky suspicion he was up to something. Instead of leaving me there to prune, he could have said something. After wringing the water from my hair, I wrapped the towel around my body and stalked across the bathroom. I flung open the door and, as I stepped into the bedroom, a trail of steam followed in my wake. Light from the bathroom sliced across a very dark room.

“Took you long enough,” Grant said. I jerked in surprise and peered in the direction of his voice, but all I could see was his shadow on the bed. Turn off the bathroom light,” he ordered. My heart raced as I returned to the bathroom and flipped off the light. When I stepped back in to the room, I noticed the fireplace full of lit candles.

“Grant,” I breathed.

“Drop the towel, Mallory.”

“But, aren’t we expected for dinner?”

“Dinner will be there when we want it. Now, drop the towel.” The light of the full moon spilled through the windows and the glow from the candles flickered against the white walls. It was magical. I had to pause for a moment to soak it all in. The sound of Grant clearing his throat spurred me into action and I quickly dropped the towel. “Come here,” he commanded.

“Look who has his bossy pants on,” I teased. In three seconds flat he was off the bed and I was over his shoulder. I squealed his name as he tossed me onto the bed and giggled like a goof when I hit the mattress. His bed felt like a giant marshmallow. “Oh my gosh,” I moaned, “This bed is heaven.” Grant quietly chuckled as I burrowed further into his mattress. “Laugh all you want. I’m never getting out.”

Lowering his mouth to mine, he whispered against my lips, “That’s perfectly fine with me.” I shoved my fingers into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss and another after that. “I can see my girl really likes my bed,” he said between kisses. Correction, I loved his bed, his house, and…him. Of course, I didn’t say this out loud. Instead I showed him the best way I knew how. Using my fingers, mouth, tongue and body, I kissed, stroked and licked every last inch of him. Finally, when we both couldn’t stand it any longer, he slipped inside and finished what I’d started. After, I collapsed in his marshmallow bed and promptly fell asleep.

I hate driving at night. It’s so dark.

All I could see was the road reflected in the headlights in front of me and nothing else. I flipped on the radio and was happy when Aerosmith’s Dream On spilled from the speakers. After giving Steven Tyler a run for his money, Cat Stevens’ Hard Headed Woman came on. Only, it wasn’t Cat Stevens singing, but someone else. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Two more songs flew by before the host came on and said, “You’ve been listening to Aerosmith’s Dream On and Grant Hardy’s remake of Cat Stevens’ Hard Headed Woman. Speaking of Grant Hardy, the word on the street is that as of last night, he’s officially off the market. You heard it ladies and gentlemen. Grant Hardy and Michelle Harrigan are finally tying the knot. I have to admit, those two are going to make some really pretty babies together.