Courtship of the Cake (34 page)

“You're kidding me, right?”

Quinn was in the doorway, watching me ready my oils. She was in her robe, and carrying her tea.

“Do you have a preference?” I asked, gesturing to the array of bottles like a game show model. I removed Nash's ring and slipped it into my pocket.

“What is this, Baskin-Robbins?” she asked flatly. “I'm going back to bed.”

“Oh, no you don't.” I caught her by the shoulders of her robe and directed her toward the massage table. She plucked two of the tiny vials of essential oil without so much as looking at them and thrust them at me. “I'm going to step out of the room.
You're
going to climb on the table and lie on your stomach, face in the cradle.” I was going to get her to relax, even if I had to tackle her.

She gave pause. “Do I . . .” She bit her lip and touched the belt of her bathrobe.

“Wear as much or as little as you're comfortable with.”

“I don't have pretty underwear,” she blurted.

“That's the least of my worries,” I assured her.

I had never been a fan of the cucumbers-on-the-eyes, dripping-waterfall, rub-a-dub school of massage, but being able to offer it to someone as tightly wound as Quinn made me appreciate it a little more. She tensed as I slowly lowered another sheet on her bare back, and tucked it gently into her waistband of her panties. “It's okay, it's just to prevent the oil from staining them.”

“Like I said, they're nothing special,” she mumbled.

I made a mental note to get out to the mall alone with her one of these days. Maybe dainty lingerie was superficial, but it was a start. “Believe me, they're a world better than what some of these musicians climb up on the table with. Pretty sure the jeans Nash was wearing could've walked off on their own.”

I cringed as the words left my mouth, realizing the
N
word probably wouldn't go far in relaxing her, but she chuckled. “How did you get into massaging rock stars, anyway?”

“Well,” I started, rolling the lotion between my palms and moving to stand behind her head. “I'm cursed with the people-pleaser gene.” Leaning over her, I laid my hands at her tailbone, and began to slide my way up toward her shoulders in long, sweeping strokes.

“Me, too.” She sighed as I feathered my way down her right side, fingers and palms in constant motion, warming the tissue. “That feels amazing. I've never had a massage before.”

“Never?”

“Not ever. Not even with . . . you know, with a guy, unprofessionally.” Her skin was pale and soft, and I had a feeling she didn't display it often, to anyone. “The closest I've come to a day spa is visiting the Curl Up and Dye.”

We both got a laugh out of that. “Hardly counts. We should go to one together someday, and get facials. I love them even more than
massages. The cleansing, the toning, the hot towels.” I felt warmth wash over me, just thinking about it. “I love the luxurious ritual of it.”

“I love rituals, too,” she breathed. “Like here, at the inn. I love the look of all the rooms when I've freshly made them up. Everything presented and in its place. People sleep, people eat, they go on their way and then it all gets a fresh start, all over again.”

I supposed we all had our rituals. I thought of Mick, in the bakery, and even Nash. The way he started and ended each show was sacred to him, no matter how unconventional of a ritual it was. I thought of how far out of his comfort zone he had traveled to be here.

Going through it. Not around it.

I warmed lotion between my palms and worked it into her dry, cracked hands. Bear was a laundry speed demon, but Quinn did the majority of the work at the Half Acre. “Have you ever had any help here?”

“When I was little, we did. But then my dad sent them away.”

I remembered Mick's story about his mother, leaving town. And I pictured Quinn at his age, learning to help her own mother with the chores. My heart ached for all of them.

“You know, I like you, Dani,” Quinn said, the words traveling up and washing over me like a fluttering effleurage. “I didn't want to at first. But I do.”

“I know,” I said, and left it at that. I was glad to hear it, but I wanted her to forget that it was me, Dani, above her. I just wanted her to enjoy the sensation of someone caring for her. I worked her left side in circulatory strokes, never breaking contact, then back up to her center, thumbs and knuckles applying friction. Using a petrissage sequence, I kneaded her upper trapezius muscles, reducing tension in her neck and shoulder muscles.

She began to really relax under my hands, and I worked in silence, save for the soft guitar tones and silky voice of my idol. I'd collected many maternal figures in my life, starting with Nana, moving to Bree
and now, I even counted Sindy among them. But Shonnie was the constant force, before and after meeting her in real life, which had nurtured and empowered me. I hoped I could do that for people someday. Could I do that, if I kept running from town to town, breaking down and loading out with bands, night after night?

I shifted position and checked my own alignment, careful to employ good body mechanics. Spreading more oil with my palms, I then transitioned to the back of my hands, stretching out the extensors in my forearms and giving my flexors some needed rest. Massaging others was hard on the masseuse, too. Would there come a time where I couldn't keep doing it, couldn't keep running?

And then what?
I heard Nash's lone howl on the mountain.
Then what?

And then Jax's voice, close to my ear.
Listen to that little voice inside your own head for once, will ya? WWDD?

What Would Dani Do
?

I glanced at the bedside table. When you worked in blocks of time sessions, you got used to watching the clock. I wondered what it would be like to forget about time. Suspend it, like in Bear's auto body shop. I pictured having my own spa, with real beds, and towel warmers. I could practically feel the hot, smooth massage stones under my hands. And could see Logan's drawings hanging on the walls.

I reached for the other bottle of essential oil Quinn had selected and cracked it without even so much as a glance at the label.

The smell of cedar hit me, making my eyes water. But that wasn't what stopped me in my tracks. It was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Hang on a second,” I said to Quinn. Opening the door a crack, I found Mick waiting, two plates in his hands.

“I figured Quinn was with you. And you two might be hungry,” he whispered, holding up what appeared to be quiche and fruit from breakfast. “Spa lunch?”

He smiled, and my heart swelled at the thought of this lovely, lovely
man taking the time to consider such a thing. Sindy had indeed raised him well. His aunt had given him love in spades, and had taught him to share it as well.

“Thank you.” I gave his cheek a kiss, and relieved him of the plates. “We'll be down soon.”

I resumed the massage after he left, but even the amazing food waiting for us couldn't stop the aroma of cedar from invading my thoughts, nagging at me. It reminded me of the Montauk house, the day of the Davenport funeral. And how I had wanted to be there for a beautiful stranger like Jax. And how I had continued to be his rock.

Someday, Mick,
I had said, but I wondered if I could ever let anyone chip away my stone and reveal all that was lurking so deep under there.

“Is that quiche I smell?” Quinn murmured. The proprietor had forgone the most important meal of the day; I heard her stomach growl.

“Spa lunch, courtesy of Mick Spencer,” I replied.

“He's the best. I can see why . . . why you fell for him,” Quinn said. My hands froze along her shoulders.

“How—,” I stammered.

“I've known since the morning after you arrived. When I developed pictures from Logan's party. Your eyes were locked on him in almost every shot, and the way he looked at you was like, well . . . like how Nash sometimes looks at me, when he thinks I'm not noticing,” she said shyly.

And here Nash thought Quinn would only warm up to him with me around, as a buffer. Turned out she knew more about him, and me, all along.

“It's okay, Dani. Your secret is safe with me.”

Before I could reply, Nash burst into the room.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Quinn gasped, clutching the sheet to her body. “Get out!” she hollered. “You have no right—”

Nash cut her off with a bitter laugh. “Just the way you planned it, huh? No fucking rights at all. I know, Quinn. I
know
!”

Quinn grabbed her robe, frantically covering herself as Nash stormed closer. But he strode past her, straight toward the closet and began throwing items into a suitcase. “We're leaving, Dani. Now.”

“Nash . . . calm down,” I pleaded, grabbing his arm.

“Don't tell me what to do! You're not my fucking savior, Dani!” His elbow jerked, shaking me off. “You're no better than a groupie in the end, minus the sexual favors.”

I reeled back into the massage table, knocking over the bottle of essential oil. Cedar permeated the air and I could barely breathe.

“You left me off the birth certificate!” The entire inn must've heard him holler. “Just a fucking John Doe, isn't that right, Quinn?”

Quinn gave a wounded cry and made for the door. Nash pursued her.

“Get out of here,” he yelled at the gawkers who had assembled. “Fucking vultures, all of you! Leave! Now!”

I raced down the stairs after him, but Mick was already out the door and tackling Nash.

MOMENTS OF TRUTH

We hit the lawn hard, rolling, pushing, and swearing.

“What the fuck, Spencer! This isn't your fight!”

“The hell it isn't!” I was done taking his shit. And he was done taking from the people I cared about. “You want custody of Logan. That's why you came back.” Dani had called hers an “unusual favor,” and I got that now. “And you needed Dani to do it. You used her. Like you used Quinn.” I had heard his shouts from the bedroom, telling Dani to pack, and about the birth certificate. “I won't let you do this!”

“Mick! No!” Dani rushed to Nash's side, as he clutched his hip. “Stop!”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't kick his ass!” I pulled a fist back, watching him wince beneath me. “And give me one reason, Dani, why you care what happens to this scumbag.”

She pushed between us. “Please,” she pleaded.

My entire body felt like it had been doused in an ice bath. She was choosing him. Him over me.

“I get it,” I said, pulling myself off him.

I thought I finally had a fighting chance with her. But in the end . . . story of my life.

“No, Mick. You don't get it,” Dani whispered, as Nash waved her away and limped toward the trailer. “Let him go to her.” She laid her hand on my arm. “They need to deal with this.”

“Quinn!” he hollered. “You can't keep shutting me out!”

She swung the door open and nearly knocked Nash off his feet.

“I want you to leave, Nash. Now.”

“It's always what
you
want, isn't it Quinn? And then you get to play the fucking martyr.”

She moved to pull the door shut again, but he heaved himself up the top step and into the small space. I broke away from Dani. “I'm not leaving her alone with him.”

I had made a promise to Logan, written in black and white in our shared notebook. That I wouldn't let Quinn get hurt. Not by me, not by anyone.

Nash's voice was hoarse from hollering. “You knew exactly what you were doing that night, didn't you, Quinn? Coming here to me, in this trailer?”

I raced up the steps. Nash was at the window with one long stride, yanking back the blackout curtains, and ripping back the red film that covered the glass, allowing light to pour in.

“Stop!” she shrieked, throwing herself toward him. She clawed at his shirt. “We both got what we wanted that night!” I froze at her words.

“That's right. You came in here that night because you knew two things. You knew I wouldn't stop you if you came on to me. And you knew I could get you pregnant.”

“They were gone! Gone!” She beat at his chest with her fist, but the fight had left her. “I didn't want to be alone,” she sobbed.

“Well, neither did I!” Nash shouted. “You came in here with your tears, and your whispers, and you wrapped yourself around me. You let
me hold you, you let me inside you. You knew how long I had wanted you. God, how many times had you led me to that garden gate, Quinn? Leading me on. And then rejected me . . . never giving me a chance to prove myself? Until that night. And I gave you my everything that night, Quinn. I gave you my all. I gave in to every desire, every fantasy. The idea that you could love somebody like me. That I could belong . . . finally belong here, with you. And trade all that pain we shared, for happiness. Only to wake up at dawn and find you gone. I'd raced across the yard, but you'd already locked yourself back into that goddamn fortress, Quinn. You shut me out!” His hands locked into her hair, forcing her to look him in the eye.

I lunged forward, ready to throw myself into their fight. Ready to take Nash down again if he so much as laid a finger on Quinn to harm her.

But Quinn made the first move.

Nash fell to his knees before her as she deepened her kiss, and his fingers found the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away. It was such an intimate embrace, I had to turn away, stumbling down the trailer steps and back out onto the lawn.

Dani was gone.