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

Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(4)
Abbi Glines

Yeah . . . I was calling Anya. A f*ck with a no-strings-attached, dark-haired beauty was exactly what I needed.


She had watched me. Fuck.

It had been so easy to close my eyes and sink into Anya while picturing Blaire’s face looking up at me. Her mouth slightly open and her cheeks pink. The fast breaths she would take as I filled her over and over again. I’d come so fu**ing hard I had been weak when it was over.

I also hadn’t been able to look at Anya. I had felt like an ass. I didn’t f*ck women while picturing someone else in my head. It was wrong. But I had felt Blaire watching me. My entire body had come alive when the heat from her gaze found me.

When I had turned my head just enough to glance back at her, the door to the pantry was closing behind her. She had left. But her presence had made me harder than I’d ever been. Why was she getting to me like this?

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the kitchen this morning was that the place was cleaned up. I hadn’t left it like this. I had sent Anya home with a peck on the cheek and a thanks, before closing the door on her and running off to my room to pace and curse.

Which meant . . . Blaire had cleaned up. Why was she cleaning shit up? I told her I didn’t need her to clean up.

I moved to make coffee, slamming cabinets and drawers as I went. I hated thinking of Blaire in here cleaning up the mess Anya and I had made. I hated the fact that she’d done it after watching me f*ck Anya. But more than those things, I hated the fact that I gave a fu**ing shit.

“Who the hell pissed in your Wheaties?” Grant’s voice startled me, causing me to slosh scalding-hot coffee on my hand.

“Stop fu**ing sneaking up on me,” I growled.

“I knocked on the damn door when I walked in. What’s your deal?” Grant sounded as unfazed by my angry outburst as I expected. He went behind me to fix himself a cup of coffee.

“You made me burn my hand, you dickwad,” I snarled, still pissed that I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard Grant enter the house.

“No coffee yet, huh? Drink up. You’re acting like an ass. After your night with Anya and her talented oral skills, I would have thought you would be in a much better mood.”

I stuck my hand under the cold tap water in an attempt to cool off my heated skin. “I just woke up. And how did you know Anya was here last night?”

Grant jumped up and sat on the counter before taking a sip of coffee. I dried my hand on a towel and waited for him to tell me how he knew about Anya.

“She called me last night. Wanted to know who the girl was living in your house.” He shrugged and took another sip.

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of this. How did she know about Blaire? I hadn’t told her.

“Stop with that confused frowning thing you do. It’s annoying,” Grant said, waving his cup in my direction with a smirk. “She saw Blaire last night when she came home. Apparently, you two were getting busy outside, but she saw Blaire over your shoulder. She was curious about why she disappeared under your stairs . . .” he said, trailing off.

I could tell there was more to the story so I waited. When Grant didn’t continue, I glared at him.

He chuckled in response, then shrugged. “Fine. I was going to leave out the part where you looked back at Blaire and then fu**ed the hell out of Anya. She noticed something switched in you, dude. Sorry, but you’re not that good at covering your emotions up.” His grin grew wider. “Best f*ck she’s ever had, though. But then, she hasn’t had me.”

I was gonna have to send her flowers. Or something. Shit! She had known it was Blaire that got me off last night. I was an even bigger dickhead than I thought.

“It’s Anya. She doesn’t care. You know that. She’s in it for the sex, just like you are. Nothing more. But I will suggest that you get your shit together, and fast. If Blaire is getting under your skin, then you need to stop it. Now. She’s not an Anya, and you know it. Besides, you can’t touch her. She is gonna hate you when all this comes out. Her dad, your sister, all of it. You can’t go there, and you know it.”

He was right. Blaire was not someone I could ever get close to. Soon I would be her enemy, and she’d hate me as much as I had hated her over the years. The only difference would be that she had a reason to hate me. I would deserve her hate. “I know,” I said, hating the way it tasted on my tongue. The truth.

“I’ve got to get to work. Thought I’d come by and let you know about my late-night call from Anya first, though,” Grant said, jumping down and carrying his cup to the sink.

“Thanks,” I said.

He slapped me on the back. “It’s what I’m here for. To keep your stupid ass straight,” he teased, and then turned and walked away.

I waited until the door closed behind him before heading to the shower. I had a full day ahead. First, I needed to send some flowers and an apology card to Anya. That would be the end of our f*ck visits. I couldn’t do that to her now. Even if she was cool with it, I wasn’t.

Nan was waiting for me when I walked back downstairs after getting dressed. I was wondering how long she would stay away pouting. She knew Blaire was here, and she was pissed. Her long red hair was gathered to the side in a ponytail that fell over her bare left shoulder. The white tennis skirt she was wearing was meant to be worn with a matching polo. But that was too boring for Nan. She had ordered a tank top that she had some fancy name for. I had made fun of her for weeks.

“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 na*ed 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 fu**ing 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.


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 fucks. 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 fu**ing 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 fu**ing 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.

“Yes, I am,” she said, moving her head so that she was free of my touch. I let my hand fall away. I shouldn’t have touched her. She was right to stop that. I had no right to touch her like that.

“It makes you look more your age,” I said, taking a step back and looking down at her uniform.

I knew that uniform well. I had slept with more cart girls over the years than I wanted to admit. It was the reason I had picked up golf in my teen years. Once the college-age cart girls found out who my daddy was, they were very interested in taking me for a ride in their carts. In many ways.

“You’re the cart girl at the golf course,” I said, lifting my eyes to look back at her. I already knew that, but seeing her in the uniform made me smile. She wore it well.

“How did you know?”

“The outfit. Tight little white shorts and polo shirts. It’s the uniform. You’re making a fu**ing killing, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question; it was a statement.

She shrugged, then straightened her shoulders, moving back a little more from me. She sensed the need to keep her distance from me. Good girl. She might be tougher than I thought. “You will be relieved to know that I’ll be out of here in less than a month.”

I should have been relieved. Hell, I fu**ing wished that was what I was feeling right then. It would mean I had one fewer problem. But I liked her here. I liked knowing I could keep her safe. Or that I was doing something to make up for the wrong I’d done to her already. Unable to stop myself, I took a step toward her. “I probably should be. Relieved, that is. Real fu**ing relieved. But I’m not. I’m not relieved, Blaire.” I leaned down until my mouth was just a breath away from her ear. “Why is that?” I asked in a whisper, before inhaling her sweet, clean smell. Would she smell like this between her legs? Would she be as sweet and fresh? A new kind of sweat broke out on my body, and I moved back. I was getting off track. “Keep your distance from me, Blaire. You don’t want to get too close. Last night . . .” Fuck, why was I talking about this with her? I needed to forget it had happened. “Last night is haunting me. Knowing you were watching. It drives me crazy . So stay away. I’m doing my best to stay away from you,” I said in a harsh tone meant for myself more than anything. But I couldn’t explain that to her. I just turned and ran. I had to get away.

Once I was safe in my room upstairs, I went to the window and stared down at the beach below. Blaire was still there. But she wasn’t watching the waves this time. She was looking back at the house. What was she thinking? Had I scared the shit out of her? Or was she waiting for me to change my mind and come back? I reached up and touched the cool glass with my palm and watched her. It seemed like forever and not nearly long enough before she walked back to the house.

That night, I dreamed of her for the first time. Vivid images of her underneath me. Both of her long legs were wrapped around me, and her head was thrown back as I brought her to a release we both felt.

I was so fucked.


Rush!” Jace called out from his perch on a bar stool as I walked into the club. This wasn’t normally my scene, but when I’d gotten three texts from people telling me that everyone was meeting up here tonight, I decided the distraction was needed.

“Finlay’s here,” someone else called out. I headed for the bar, and Jace slid a shot toward me as I approached him. Jace was Woods Kerrington’s best friend. He was a good guy. I just wouldn’t call us close. I wasn’t close to anyone other than Grant. He was the only one I trusted.

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