Playing With Fire

By: Cat Mason
A Grindstone Harbor Novel Book 2


Chapter One


Welcome to Slutbag City: Population Me.


Quinn




“Fucking 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.”

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