Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(10)

“She’s still here,” Nan said in an annoyed tone.

“No, she’s at work,” I replied, knowing that wasn’t what she meant.

“Work? She’s at work? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Nan’s tone went from annoyed to a screech. My little sister wasn’t used to not getting her way with me. I was the one person in the world who moved mountains to make sure she was happy. But this time . . . this time, it was different. I wasn’t hurting someone innocent just to make Nan happy. I had my lines, and she’d pushed me to draw one here.

“Nope,” I said, walking past her and toward the living room, where I was sure I’d left my wallet last night before getting naked outside.

“Why is she working? Why is she still here? Did you call Mom?”

Nan wasn’t taking the hint. She was going to make me tell her that I wasn’t giving in this time. She was going to lose this argument with me. I wasn’t kicking Blaire out. Not for her . . . hell, not for anyone. The girl needed help. “She got a job. She needs money to get on her own feet. Her mother died, Nan. She buried her mother alone. All f**king alone. Now the father you two share is off in Paris with our mother, enjoying life. I’m not just throwing her out. This is my fault.”

Nan stalked toward me and grabbed my arm tightly. “Your fault? How is this your fault, Rush? She’s no one to us. No one. Her mother died, but I don’t care. Her mother ruined my life. So that sucks for her. But none of that is your fault. Stop trying to save the world, Rush.”

I had created this heartless woman. Another thing that was my fault. Nan had been neglected as a child, and I had tried like hell to make up for it. Instead, I’d created a heartless, vengeful adult. I would do anything to change that, but I didn’t know how.

I looked down at her and wished I didn’t still see the sad little girl I wanted to save. It would make it so much easier to be hard on her. But she was my baby sister. She always would be. I loved her for better or for worse. She was my family.

“It’s all my fault. Blaire’s problems and yours,” I said, and jerked my arm free of her hold. I grabbed my wallet off the coffee table and headed for the door. I had to get away from my sister. She wasn’t helping my mood.

“Where is she working?” Nan asked.

Pausing at the door, I decided that was something Nan would eventually find out herself, but I wouldn’t tell her. Blaire needed more time to settle in before my sister went after her. I would see what I could do to be there when that happened. “Don’t know,” I lied. “Go visit your friends. Go play tennis. Go shopping. Just go do what it is you do that makes you happy. Forget about Blaire being here. She’s my problem, not yours. Trust me to do this right.”

I opened the door and left her before she could say anything else. I was done with this conversation. I had shit to fix.

CHAPTER SIX

A text from Anya said that two dozen yellow roses weren’t necessary. That was it. Nothing more. I knew it was the clean-cut end to our occasional f**ks. My guilt eased where she was concerned, as I stuck my phone back into my pocket and continued running.

I ran when I needed to think and clear my head. I also ran when I’d had too many drinks the night before. Tonight I just needed to run. I didn’t want to be home when Blaire walked inside. I didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to hear her voice. I just wanted distance.

She deserved my help. But that was it. I didn’t want to get to know her. I sure as hell didn’t want to be her friend. The day she left, I would be able to breathe easy again. Maybe go visit my dad. Get away from here and enjoy life a little.

But then, fate had a way of laughing at my plans.

I slowed down as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I easily made out the silhouette of Blaire in the moonlight. Fuck me.

She didn’t see me . . . yet. She was staring out at the water. Her long blond hair was blowing back off her face and dancing around her shoulders. The moonlight made the color of her silky strands look silver.

Her head turned, and those eyes of hers locked with mine. Shit.

I should have just nodded at her and run up to the house. Not said anything. Just kept going. I was letting her live here; I didn’t have to speak to her. But damn, I wasn’t going to be able to help doing that.

I stopped in front of her and watched as her gaze focused on my chest. The fact that I was suddenly glad that I was shirtless wasn’t good. I shouldn’t care that she was staring at my chest like she wanted a lick. Fuck. Fuck. No! She didn’t want to lick my chest. Where the hell had that idea come from? She was f**king with my head. Dammit. I needed to get her eyes off my body. Now.

“You’re back,” I said, breaking the silence and snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I just got off work,” she replied, lifting her gaze back to my face.

“So you got a job?” I asked, needing to keep her attention on my face.

“Yes. Yesterday.”

“Where at?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear how she had gotten it. What she was doing and if she liked it. Wait . . . was she wearing makeup? Holy hell, she had mascara on. Those eyelashes could actually get longer.

“Kerrington Country Club,” she said.

I was unable to stop looking at her eyes. They were amazing without f**king makeup. But damn, with just a little, they were unreal. I slipped my hand under her chin and tilted her head up so I could get a better look. “You’re wearing mascara,” I said, as explanation for my strange behavior.