Rush (Carolina Bad Boys, #5)(14)

I toweled off then hung the damp cloth on the bar after neatly folding it. Idly taking a drink from my beer, I swiped a palm across the fogged-over mirror. It popped open on contact, revealing a hidden medicine cabinet from which myriad orange prescription bottles rattled into the sink below.

Pain killers, several antidepressants, an anticonvulsant. The drug names I’d read about in those fancy college psych classes danced before my eyes as I picked up each bottle.

This shit was the real, heavy medicinal deal. Whatever was wrong with Shy that she had so many prescriptions, it became immediately clear she wasn’t just a self-medicating junkie.

Something was way the fuck weird about all of this.

Returning the last pill bottle to the shelf, I shut the door, its magnetic snick locking everything inside like Shy had, apparently.

And me, too. Many, many years before.

The balcony doors were open when I returned to the front room. I heard the assholes out there talking about me. That was fine. As long as their smack-talk didn’t revolve around Shy I was all good.

“Handsome is as handsome does,” Brodie quipped.

“What does that even mean?” Tail glugged more beer.

Cole leaned his elbows on his knees as he sat forward. “Not a freakin’ clue.”

Glass shattered behind me, and I spun around at the sound to see Shy leaning over the sink in the kitchen.

I hustled to her like my ass was on fire. A glass had splintered all over the sink, and Shy stood there, shaking like a leaf, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned bone white.

“You okay?” I pulled her away from the counter, drawing her up against me. “Did you hurt yourself?”





Chapter Seven


Handsome Is Not As Handsome Does




SHY LOOKED TIRED. PALE. Wobbly.

I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the sofa.

With her in my lap, I frowned down at her. “Seriously. Are you okay, Shy?”

“Just wiped out, that’s all.”

She covered her legs in the long dress, curling toward me like a kitten kneading a sleeping place.

Her trembling stopped and she released a long sigh.

I wrapped one big hand around the back of her neck. “You don’t have to play hostess, ya know? They’re happy to help, and it’s clear they need no one to serve the drinks, babe.”

“Babe?” Her eyes flipped up to mine.

Fuck.

Ignore. Ignore.

Slip of the tongue and all that.

I cleared my throat and smoothed my hand down her back.

“How’d you get into this building anyway? I’m surprised there’s not a doorman.” I masterfully changed the subject.

“With my key code.” She laughed, and her color came back as she cuddled against me.

“Very funny.”

Somehow, Shy’s lips slid against my jaw—just a glance of warmth and wetness—before she rested her head on my shoulder.

“Inheritance from my grandmother. I used it for the shop and this place but donated most of it to MUSC Children’s Hospital.”

“That’s generous.” I angled my head to peer down at her.

Shiloh averted her face as she moved to the other side of the couch. “Not really.” She was silent for a few moments, sitting with her lips pressed together, before she said, “Remember Sinclair? Sinclair Chatham?”

“Yeah. ’Course.” I’d noted her house that night I’d dropped off Shy. “The pretty blonde? Your other neighbor on The Battery?”

“Mm hmm.” Shy finally looked at me again. “She heads up the family’s philanthropic ventures. She was working on a fundraiser for the hospital, so I thought . . . why not?”

Why not? Why not give up what probably amounted to a fortune at her ripe old age of twenty-four?

“I still think that’s pretty generous.”

A half smile curled her lips. “What difference does it make? I don’t need much. And anyway, look at you. You never cared about the money.”

“Oh yeah. Look at me. Not exactly a shining example of how to lead a successful life, Shy.”

She gazed at me, and some emotion I couldn’t quite read darkened her deep gray irises. It wasn’t censure, which was what I was used to from the people I knew from back in the day. Looked more like . . . longing.

“I like it when you call me Shy.” Her teeth bit slowly into the pillowy pout of her bottom lip.

I was suddenly very glad she wasn’t sitting in my lap anymore. Her tone of voice—low and thrilling—did strange and totally unwanted things to my insides. And definitely to my groin where the hard shape of my cock started forming and filling.

The tense silence between us lengthened, the air almost stilling around us. Shy blinked, a slow fluttering of eyelashes that left her irises hidden half-mast.

“Hey, Shiloh!” Brodie barged in.

I hadn’t even realized I’d been leaning toward Shy, intent on . . . kissing her. Snapping back so fast I think my back fucking cracked, I wedged myself firmly in the corner of the couch.

Brodie looked from me to her to me again, and I knew the epic dicktool was barely refraining from waggling his eyebrows.

He took a long chug of beer then swiped his forearm across his mouth. “We’re headed to Isle of Palms for a swim. Come to the beach with us? Night surfing. The waves are up.”