Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(13)

I fought the urge to remain and listen to just how far Blaire would go with her questioning. I f**king liked it. She gave a shit, and I liked it. Damn, this was bad.

The girl moved, and Blaire’s eyes shifted until they locked with mine. I was caught. Conversation over. Time to fix what was becoming an issue. Me dealing with interest in Blaire was one thing; her having interest in me was another. She knew nothing. I couldn’t let her like me. Not even a little. In the end, she’d hate me, and I never needed to know what it felt like to have her feel anything other than lack of interest toward me.

“Please, don’t let me stop you, Blaire. Continue to give Grant’s guest the third degree. I’m sure he won’t mind,” I told her, as I leaned against the doorway and acted as if I were getting comfortable.

Blaire’s eyes went wide before she ducked her head and dusted crumbs off her hands into the garbage can. I had never actually seen her eat. I was glad to see signs that she was eating.

“Good morning, Rush. Thanks for letting us crash here last night. Grant drank entirely too much to drive all the way back to his place,” the girl said.

“Grant knows he has a room when he wants it,” I said, without looking at the girl. I kept my eyes on Blaire, then made my way over to the island.

“Well, uh, I guess I’ll run back upstairs, then.” The girl was still talking, but I ignored her. She wasn’t of any consequence to me. I’d prefer it if she left. When I heard her footsteps fade away down the hall, I closed the distance between Blaire and me.

“Curiosity killed the kitty, sweet Blaire,” I told her, loving the way her cheeks turned pink. “Did you think I’d had another sleepover? Hmmm? Trying to decide if she had been in my bed all night?” Fuck, I wanted to touch her. She was shifting nervously, but for just one goddamn minute, I wanted to feel her close to me. No! I had to remember who she was. What I’d done. That keeping her away from me would save us both in the end. “Who I sleep with isn’t your business. Haven’t we gone over this before?” She was supposed to be angry with me. She wasn’t supposed to be looking at me with those big, defenseless eyes. Unable to keep my hands off her, I reached over and wrapped a lock of her hair around my finger. The silky texture made me tremble slightly. I was getting too close. This was wrong, and it was dangerous. “You don’t want to know me. You may think you do, but you don’t. I promise.”

If she would just see that, this would be easier. But instead of running from me, she kept looking at me like there was something more here. Something other than an arrogant ass**le. How the f**k was she seeing through the persona I was projecting for her? She wasn’t supposed to see anything other than the spoiled brat the world assumed I was.

“You aren’t what I expected. I wish you were. It’d be so much easier,” I whispered, realizing I had said it out loud. Dropping her hair, I stepped back, then turned and left the kitchen. I needed to stay away from her. But how the f**k could I do that with her in my house?

It had taken me hours to finally fall asleep, only to be woken up by my phone ringing. Rolling over, I grabbed my cell phone off my nightstand and squinted against the light of the screen. It was Will. My little cousin. Shit. Not again.

“What?” I snarled into the phone, already knowing why he was calling. He had either run away again and was on his way to my house, or he was already at my house and needed to get inside. My mother’s sister was a bitch. A raging bitch. I understood that completely, but the kid couldn’t keep running away. Especially to here.

“I’m outside,” he said.

“Shit, Will. What is it this time?” I asked, throwing the covers back and searching for a pair of discarded sweats to pull on.

“She’s making me go to camp. All f**king summer,” he replied. “In Ireland!”

Which translated into: she wanted a summer free of the burden of motherhood and was getting ready to ship him off. It would probably be the best summer of his life. A summer free of her.

I ended the call and threw the phone down before making my way downstairs to the front door. Opening it, I winced at the sight of Will holding an overnight bag as if I would actually let him move in. I had raised one kid; I wasn’t raising another.

“You’re going home in the morning. You will f**king love Ireland. Go to Grant’s room for the night. Sleep there,” I grumbled, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t even speak Irish,” he complained.

How the f**k had this kid made it to high school? “They speak English, you dipshit,” I said, slapping him on the back of the head. “I’m exhausted. You woke me up. Now, go the f**k to sleep.”

He nodded and slumped as if I had just ended his world. I ignored the pouting and followed him up the stairs. This wasn’t a first for us. Will ran away to my place whenever I was nearby. His mother liked to visit Rosemary Beach in the summers, so it happened most often then.

“You ever been to Ireland?” he asked, as he reached the door to the room he would be crashing in for the night.

“Yep. Gorgeous country. Now, go to sleep,” I replied, then headed back up to bed.

He was going home tomorrow, but I’d have to call Grant to come get him. As soon as I got to my aunt’s and he started fighting with her, I would cave and bring him back here with me.

Grant would be able to take him home. He had done it for me more than once.