Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(40)

Jamie trudged the rest of the way down the stairs and took a coffee mug out of the cabinet, dropping it onto the counter like a gavel. “Were you down here when he left?”

“No.” Andrew tipped his chin at their youngest brother. “Rory saw him leaving through the upstairs window and came to get me.”

“This isn’t half as catastrophic as you’re making it out to be,” Jamie scoffed.

“Oh no?” Rory drawled. “Remember what happened the last time a guy snuck out of here before sunrise?”

Pain lanced Jamie in the chest and the wind seeped out of him. “Rory,” he said, turning and focusing in on his brother. “I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.”

“Christ, Jamie. I’m not worried about me,” Rory snapped, looking insulted.

“I am. I do.” Jamie shouted back. “I worry all the time about fucking things up again for my family. That’s why I’ve been so careful.” He fell into the stool Andrew had kicked out for him, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Until now. I…I don’t know why the fuck I can’t just be careful when it comes to him.”

Andrew and his stern expression came to stand in front of him. “I can juggle shifts around at the beach, find someone else to work the door at the bar.”

Jamie laughed without humor. “That wouldn’t keep him away.”

“Want me to make him stay away?” Rory asked, grinding his knuckles on the island.

“If you go near him,” Jamie said, failing to keep his tone level. “I’ll light the goddamn boardwalk on fire. Do you understand me?”

A staring contest between Jamie and Rory ensued and Rory conceded victory by inclining his chin. “I’d say this problem is bigger than we thought, A.”

“I’d fucking concur,” Andrew sighed. “Jamie, we just don’t want to see you get hurt. There are so many men out there who’d be better for you.” He paused. “Find a way to walk away from this. Nothing stays a secret for long. You know that. I saw this coming because I’m close to you. But it’s only a matter of time before people start to speculate, Marcus gets nervous and…”

“And then it’s an instant replay,” Jamie said quietly, swallowing. “Without the whole attempted drowning and incarceration aftermath.”

“Don’t remind me about what happened,” Rory gritted out, plowing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe that piece of shit had the nerve to come back to Long Beach. I’d love to find him and—”

“But you won’t,” Jamie and Andrew stressed at the same time.

“You’ve got Olive now to think about,” Jamie said, watching Rory drain of tension instantly at the mention of his girlfriend. “And if you think getting burned by another man would hurt me, try getting in trouble again because of me.”

Rory gave a slight shake of his head, almost seeming confused. “You’re not really still feeling guilty about the time I served, are you, Jamie?”

“Every day.”

“Well knock it off,” Rory shot back.

“Another heartwarming family meeting, brought to you by the Prince brothers,” Andrew muttered, splitting a reproving look between them both. “Listen, Jamie, just think about—”

The door burst open and Jiya stood outlined in the sunshine, her dark hair lifted in a whirlwind around her face.

“Beautiful,” Andrew breathed. “God.”

“You’re not going to believe what happened!” Jiya squealed, dancing into the kitchen on her toes and executing a perfect pirouette.

“What?” Olive asked sleepily, padding into the kitchen in one of Rory’s T-shirts and rubbing at her eyes beneath her glasses. Their youngest brother turned to visible goo, pulling the drowsy blonde between his outstretched thighs and planting a lingering kiss on her temple. “What aren’t we going to believe?” Olive said again, around a yawn.

Jiya carefully laid down an opened envelope on the kitchen island and pointed at it, like it was a living thing. “Someone paid for my flying lessons.”

A beat of silence passed, before everyone sped into motion. Rory, Olive and Jamie got up to congratulate Jiya with a hug, while Andrew patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“How?” Jamie asked, forcing suspicion not to show in his expression. “Was it your parents?”

“Probably.” Jiya was still dancing in place. “My mom has said no to the idea so many times, she probably can’t admit she softened, but there they were in yesterday’s mail. Maybe she still feels bad about forcing me into that terrible blind date—”

Jiya cut herself off and traded an uncomfortable, through-the-eyelashes glance with Andrew. “Oh, was it terrible?” Andrew coughed into his fist. “I’m, uh…sorry to hear that.”

Jiya tucked her hair behind her ears. “Perhaps it wasn’t a love match, but at least now I have a starting point to go on. The next guy will either be better or worse and then I’ll have a date barometer. Is graphing my date experiences cruel or simply scientific?”

“Scientific,” Olive said, pushing up her glasses. “Definitely.”

Andrew tensed. “More dates?”