Home > Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(12)

Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(12)
Author: Abbi Glines

No. She couldn’t live alone. That wasn’t safe. She thought she had to move because of me. Her sorry-ass father hadn’t even called to check on her. She had no one, and she was so damn vulnerable. Someone needed to protect her. She wasn’t moving out of this house. I couldn’t stand to think of someone hurting her. I kept my focus on the beach outside, hoping it would calm me, but the panic setting in at the thought of her living alone was taking over. “You can stay as long as you want to, Blaire,” I assured her. I needed her here.

She didn’t respond. I pulled out the chair beside me.

“Sit next to me and eat some of this bacon.” She sat down slowly, and I pushed my plate over to her. “Eat,” I told her.

She picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. Her eyes did a fluttery thing that made her lashes fan across her cheekbone. Fuck me, that was sexy as hell.

I nudged the plate toward her again. “Eat another.” She was grinning at me like she found this funny, and the ache inside me eased. I could keep her here. I would make it so that she never wanted to leave. “What are your plans for today?” I asked her.

“I don’t know yet. I thought I’d look for an apartment, maybe.”

There went my ease. Fuck no, she was not looking for an apartment. “Stop talking about moving out, OK? I don’t want you moving until our parents get home. You need to talk to your dad before you run off and start living alone. It isn’t exactly safe. You’re too young.”

She laughed. That soft, musical sound that I heard so infrequently. “I am not too young. What is it with you and my age? I am nineteen. I’m a big girl. I can live on my own safely. Besides, I can hit a moving target better than most police officers. My skills with a gun are pretty impressive. Stop with the unsafe-and-too-young thing.”

The idea of Blaire and a gun excited and terrified me all at once. As sexy as that sounded, I was also worried about her hurting herself. “So you really do have a gun?”

She grinned and nodded.

“I thought Grant was just being funny. His sense of humor sucks sometimes.”

“Nope. I pulled it on him when he surprised me my first night here.”

Now, that made me laugh. “I’d love to have seen that.”

She just smiled and kept her head down. She wasn’t looking at me, and I knew that her first night here wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“I don’t want you to stay here just because you’re young. I get that you can take care of yourself, or you at least think you can. I want you here because . . . I like having you here. Don’t leave. Wait until your dad gets back. It sounds like you two are way overdue for a visit. Then you can decide what you want to do. For now, how about you go upstairs and unpack? Think of all the money you can save living here. When you do move out, then you’ll have a nice padded bank account.” I had just said way more than I wanted to. But I needed to get her to stay.

“OK. If you really mean that, then thank you.”

Thoughts of her in my bed nak*d started taunting me. I couldn’t let it turn into that. I had to remember Nan. And what that all meant to Blaire. She’d hate me in the end.

“I mean it. But that also means that the friends thing with us needs to remain in full effect,” I told her.

“Agreed,” she replied. I hadn’t wanted her to agree. I’d wanted her to beg me like she had last night. Because at this moment, I was weak, and I’d give in. I forced all sexual thoughts of Blaire out of my mind. I couldn’t think like this, or I would go mad.

“Also, you are going to start eating the food in this house when you’re here.”

She shook her head at me.

“Blaire, this isn’t up for argument. I mean it. Eat my damn food.”

She stood up and leveled me with a determined glare. “No. I will buy food and eat it. I am not . . . I’m not like my father.”

Fuck. Again, this was all my damn fault. I stood up to look her directly in the eyes. “You think I don’t know that by now? You’ve been sleeping in a damn broom closet without complaint. You clean up after me. You don’t eat properly. I am aware that you’re nothing like your dad. But you are a guest in my home, and I want you eating in my kitchen and treating it like it’s yours.”

Blaire’s stiff shoulders eased a little. “I’ll put my food in your kitchen and eat it in here. Will that be better?”

No. That wasn’t better. I wanted her eating my food! “If all you intend to buy is peanut butter and bread, then no. I want you eating properly.”

She started to shake her head, and I reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Blaire, it will make me happy to know you’re eating. Henrietta buys the groceries once a week and stocks this place, expecting me to have a lot of company. There is more than enough. Please. Eat. My Food.”

She bit her bottom lip but not before a giggle escaped. Damn, that was cute.

“Are you laughing at me?” I asked, feeling the need to grin myself.

“Yeah. A little,” she replied.

“Does this mean you’re gonna eat my food?”

She let out a heavy sigh, but she was still smiling. “Only if you let me pay you weekly.”

I shook my head no, and she jerked her hand free and started to walk away. Damn stubborn woman! “Where are you going?” I asked her.

“I’m done arguing with you. I will eat your food if I pay for my part. That’s the only deal I will agree to. So take it or leave it.”

I growled, but I was going to have to give in. “OK, fine. Pay me.”

She glanced back at me. “I’m going to go unpack. Then take a bath in that big ol’ tub, and then I don’t know. I don’t have plans until tonight.”

Tonight? “With who?” I asked, not sure I liked the sound of that.

“Bethy.”

“Bethy? The cart girl Jace messes around with?” I really didn’t like the sound of that. Bethy was nothing but trouble. She’d get drunk and forget all about Blaire. I thought about the men who could hurt her. No, she wasn’t going without me. Someone needed to protect her sexy ass.

“Correction. The cart girl Jace used to mess around with. She wised up and is moving on. Tonight we’re going honky-tonking to pick us up some hardworking blue-collar men.” She turned and hurried up the steps.

This conversation wasn’t over.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She was upstairs now. Right next to the door leading up to my room. Taking a bath . . . Shit.

I had to leave. Putting space between us today was important. This morning with her had been good. I wasn’t going to keep her at a distance so that her basic needs were neglected anymore. She would eat my food, dammit. She would sleep in a good bed and bathe in a nice big bathroom. No more treating her like the f**king help.

The weight off my shoulders was now replaced with fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to stay away from her. Knowing she was right there, asleep. Watching her eat, which I would now be doing regularly to make sure she ate normal food. I wasn’t going to be able to stay away.

Grant. I needed to talk to Grant. He’d remind me of why I couldn’t have her. Why I couldn’t tuck her into my arms and hold on. After glancing up at the stairs one more time, I headed for the door. Getting some breathing room away from her and talking to someone rational would be good for me.

I climbed inside my Range Rover and dialed my mother’s number. They had to be coming home soon. I was running out of time. Blaire would know everything, and I would lose her. I would make sure she was taken care of, though. I wasn’t going to just let her run. I’d hold a damn gun on Abe if I had to in order to get him to go after her. Stupid f**ker.

“Rush,” my mother said after the third ring.

“When are you coming home?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed it,” she replied. The annoyed tone in her voice didn’t surprise me. She hated knowing that I could make her come home now if I wanted to.

“Let me talk to Abe.”

She sighed dramatically. “Why, Rush? So you can yell at him for not being there for his adult daughter who can take care of herself now?”

Gripping the steering wheel, I took several deep breaths and reminded myself that cursing out my mother wasn’t cool. This was just her being her self-centered self. “Credit cards, houses, cars—it’s all mine, Mom,” I reminded her instead.

She made a noise that sounded like a hiss.

“Hello, Rush.” Abe’s voice came over the phone.

“She has a job at the club. Says she’s going to move out and get her own place soon,” I told him. Surely he could see how Blaire’s living alone was a bad idea.

“Good. I knew she’d be able to figure things out,” he said.

I jerked the Range Rover over onto the side of the road. My blood pounded in my ears, and my vision went blurry. Motherf**king piece of shit. Did he really just say that? “You don’t deserve to breathe air, you sorry son of a bitch,” I growled into the phone.

He didn’t reply.

“She’s a f**king innocent. She’s so damn innocent and trusting. She’s gorgeous. Blindingly gorgeous. Head-turning, drop-dead gorgeous. Do you get that? Your daughter has no one. No one. And she’s vulnerable. She’s hurt and alone. Any jackass could use her. Don’t you care?” I was breathing hard. My knuckles turned white where I gripped the steering wheel, trying to control my rage.

“She has you,” was his only response.

“Me? She has me? What the f**k are you talking about? You know me. I’m Dean Finlay’s son. Who am I? I’m sure as hell not her protector. I’m the heartless ass**le who took her father away from her when she needed him most. That’s who the f**k I am!” Me. He’d said she had me. As if I were worthy of that responsibility. Didn’t he cherish her? How could a father have a daughter like Blaire and not want to protect her?

“I would have left without your visit, Rush. I couldn’t stay. She hasn’t needed me in years. She doesn’t need me now. I’m not what she needs. But you . . . maybe you are.”

How the f**k did he think that made sense?

“She’ll be OK. She’ll be much better without me. ’Bye, Rush,” Abe said, with a heaviness to his voice that I hadn’t heard before. Then the line went dead.

He had hung up.

I sat there staring at the road ahead of me. He wasn’t going to do anything for her. He was really going to let her figure things out on her own. And he had a small hope that I’d help her. That was it.

She would be fine. I would make sure of it. She’d be motherf**king perfect. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. I’d protect her. She didn’t have a father to keep her safe, but she had me. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

She had me.

I didn’t want to talk to Grant anymore. I needed to be alone. To think. To plan. Blaire was mine to protect. I had to make sure I didn’t let her down again. She deserved so damn much.

I came home hours later with a newfound determination. I would be Blaire’s friend. I would be her best friend. Fucking best damn friend she ever had. Nothing would touch her or hurt her. She wouldn’t want me making things easy or taking care of her, so I would have to do it quietly Make her think she was handling it.

I opened the door, a smile touching my lips. Knowing she was inside made things seem right with the world. Until I saw her on the steps dressed like a f**king wet dream.

Holy hell, why was she wearing that?

A short denim skirt with boots—cowboy boots . . . dear Lord, have mercy. “Day-um,” I muttered, closing the door behind me. She was going out in that. To the club . . . with Bethy Shit. “You, uh, wearing that out to go clubbing?” I asked, trying not to let her hear the panic in my voice.

“It’s called honky-tonking. I’m pretty sure it’s a completely different thing,” she said, smiling at me nervously.

A bar. She was going to a bar. Dressed like that.

I ran my hand through my hair and tried to remind myself that she wanted us to be friends. Friends didn’t lose their shit and demand that each other change clothes before leaving the house.

“Can I come with y’all tonight? I’ve never been honky-tonking,” I said.

Blaire’s eyes went wide. “You want to go with us?”

I let my gaze travel down her body again. Oh hell, yes, I did. “Yeah, I do.”

She shrugged. “OK. If you really want to. We need to leave in ten minutes, though. Bethy is expecting me to pick her up.”

She was going to let me go. No argument. Thank God. “I can be ready in five,” I assured her, and took off up the stairs. I could get changed and down here in plenty of time. Drunk men in a bar with Blaire looking like an angel in a pair of cowboy boots was not happening. At least not without me there to beat them off her.

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