“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 f**king 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 f**king 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 f**king 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.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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.

“Drink up,” Jace said, smiling. The blonde on his arm looked familiar, but Rosemary Beach wasn’t a big place. I’d probably been with her at some time myself.

“Hey, Rush,” the girl said with a flirty smile, and I realized I did know her. Couldn’t remember her name, though.

I nodded and threw back the tequila. I wasn’t much for shots, but if I was going to have to endure this place, I needed to have a few shots of something.

“You lost?” Grant asked with a chuckle as he walked up beside me.

I smirked. “Probably,” I replied. “Are you?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “No. I’m here because of Nan.”

Frowning, I followed his gaze and saw Nan stumbling around and laughing loudly while some guy I didn’t know held on to her barely clothed body. “What the fuck?” I had started to move around him when he grabbed my arm.

“Don’t. She likes him. They’re dating. But she’s been drinking a little too heavily lately. Thought I’d come check on her, and this is what I found. Just stand back and watch. If either of us does something too soon, she’ll leave with the dick, and we’ll both be dealing with more drama than we want.”

He was right. Nan was an adult. I wasn’t her daddy, and I needed to let her make her own mistakes. Clearing her path was exhausting, and it wasn’t helping her. “You ask around about him?” I said.

Grant put a beer in my hand. “Let’s go sit and wait. I think she’s fine. He’s Charles Kellar, Old Morrison’s grandson. Goes to Harvard. Here visiting his grandparents this week.”

At least he was her age. I took a drink of the beer and watched as Nan pulled the guy out to the dance floor and kicked off her spiked heels. At least she wouldn’t break her damn ankle.

“She’s not taking the Blaire thing well, is she?” Grant asked.

I shrugged. I wanted not to give a shit that Nan was upset. She needed to grow the f**k up and realize she wasn’t the only person on the planet. But I couldn’t not care. “No. But she needs to accept it. It’s not like I’m sleeping with Blaire. I’m just giving her a place to stay,” I replied.

“But you wanna sleep with her,” Grant said, grinning.

“Shut up,” I snarled, and shot him a warning glance.

“Damn, Rush, I want to sleep with her. No, I take that back. I want to f**k her gorgeous brains out. She’s—”

I was out of my seat and in his face so fast I surprised myself. “Don’t!” I yelled. I took a deep breath to get control of the sudden anger boiling inside me. “Stay away from her. Do. You. Understand. Me.”

Grant didn’t shrink back or nod in fear of pissing me off. Instead, my brother chuckled. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, and shook his head. “She’s gotten to you.”

That had me backing up and shaking my head. He didn’t know what he was talking about. I just didn’t like someone helpless and sweet being talked about like that.

“Rush, I didn’t think you’d come t’night,” Nan slurred as she sauntered up to our table and grabbed the empty stool in front of her to steady herself. “You’ve met Charles? Or no? I can’t remember,” she said, and pulled herself up to sit on the stool.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, glad for the interruption, even if it was a drunk Nan.

“Charles Kellar,” the guy said, holding out his hand. “Are you Rush . . . Finlay?” he asked, his eyes going a little wide as he said my last name with an almost reverent tone. He was a fan of my father’s. I knew that look.

I nodded and took a drink of my beer while ignoring his hand. I wasn’t shaking the fucker’s hand. I knew his kind. He’d found out Nan’s connection to Slacker Demon and managed to squeeze his way into her good graces. Stupid shit didn’t realize he was one of many. I’d been down this road before. A sober Nan would have spotted this bullshit right away.

“He’s a big fan of Dean’s,” Nan said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand toward Foster. “I already know. He’s using me to meet you, and I’m using him because he’s a really good fuck,” she said way too loudly.

Grant was out of his seat and moving before I could say anything. “I got her,” he told me. I nodded in his direction before looking back at Foster. Nan squealed and fussed at Grant, but he used his charming ways to soothe her as he moved her toward the exit.

“I don’t take well to douchebags using my sister. You do yourself a favor and stay the f**k away from her. I like your grandparents, but I don’t give a f**k who they are. Don’t f**k with my family. Understood?” I kept my tone low and even, as Foster’s eyes went wide and he nodded. Slamming down my beer, I stood up and followed the same route Grant had taken with Nan earlier.

Grant’s truck was gone when I finally made it to the parking lot. He was taking Nan home. I didn’t have to call him to check on that. I headed for my car and decided it was safe to go home now. Blaire should be in bed. I wouldn’t have to see her.

The relief I felt at seeing her beat-up truck safely parked in the driveway was something I wasn’t in the mood to admit right then. Yes, I was getting obsessive over her safety, but that was because I was a f**king protector. My mother had forced that role on me at a young age, and it was in my damn blood now. I couldn’t help it. Nothing more.

If we were lucky, Blaire would be asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Two days had passed since I’d seen Blaire. Avoiding her hadn’t been easy. Fighting the urge to come downstairs and see her every morning was hard. But that wasn’t why I was breaking my rule today. At least that was what I was telling myself.

Grant had shown up drunk with one of his regular girls. I didn’t know if they would be up early, but I didn’t want Blaire encountering them in the kitchen. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea if the girl was there alone. She’d already made her feelings about my sex life very clear. I should have let her think this was another one of my hookups . . . but I was heading downstairs anyway. Unable to stop myself.

“Did you just come out of the pantry?” the girl, whose name I couldn’t remember, was asking Blaire in a confused tone. I took longer strides, needing to get into that damn kitchen and shut the girl up. Blaire didn’t have to answer to her.

“Yes. Did you just come out of Rush’s bed?” Blaire asked. Her soft voice curled around the words, making the question seem innocent. I slowed down, surprised to detect a territorial undertone.

“No. Not that I wouldn’t get into his bed if he’d let me, but don’t tell Grant that. Never mind. He probably already knows,” the girl said.

I stopped at the doorway and searched the kitchen for Blaire. She was standing on the other side of the island. The girl was between us, hindering my view.

“So you just got out of Grant’s bed?” Blaire asked. I bit back a smile. The confusion in her voice sounded awfully like relief to me.

“Yep. Or at least, his old bed.”

“His old bed?” Blaire asked.

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 asshole. 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?