Rush Too Far
Page 12I climbed inside my Range Rover and dialed my mother’s number. They had to be coming home soon. I was running out of time. Blaire would know everything, and I would lose her. I would make sure she was taken care of, though. I wasn’t going to just let her run. I’d hold a damn gun on Abe if I had to in order to get him to go after her. Stupid fucker.
“Rush,” my mother said after the third ring.
“When are you coming home?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed it,” she replied. The annoyed tone in her voice didn’t surprise me. She hated knowing that I could make her come home now if I wanted to.
“Let me talk to Abe.”
She sighed dramatically. “Why, Rush? So you can yell at him for not being there for his adult daughter who can take care of herself now?”
Gripping the steering wheel, I took several deep breaths and reminded myself that cursing out my mother wasn’t cool. This was just her being her self-centered self. “Credit cards, houses, cars—it’s all mine, Mom,” I reminded her instead.
She made a noise that sounded like a hiss.
“Hello, Rush.” Abe’s voice came over the phone.
“She has a job at the club. Says she’s going to move out and get her own place soon,” I told him. Surely he could see how Blaire’s living alone was a bad idea.
“Good. I knew she’d be able to figure things out,” he said.
I jerked the Range Rover over onto the side of the road. My blood pounded in my ears, and my vision went blurry. Motherfucking piece of shit. Did he really just say that? “You don’t deserve to breathe air, you sorry son of a bitch,” I growled into the phone.
He didn’t reply.
“She’s a f**king innocent. She’s so damn innocent and trusting. She’s gorgeous. Blindingly gorgeous. Head-turning, drop-dead gorgeous. Do you get that? Your daughter has no one. No one. And she’s vulnerable. She’s hurt and alone. Any jackass could use her. Don’t you care?” I was breathing hard. My knuckles turned white where I gripped the steering wheel, trying to control my rage.
“She has you,” was his only response.
“Me? She has me? What the f**k are you talking about? You know me. I’m Dean Finlay’s son. Who am I? I’m sure as hell not her protector. I’m the heartless as**ole who took her father away from her when she needed him most. That’s who the f**k I am!” Me. He’d said she had me. As if I were worthy of that responsibility. Didn’t he cherish her? How could a father have a daughter like Blaire and not want to protect her?
“I would have left without your visit, Rush. I couldn’t stay. She hasn’t needed me in years. She doesn’t need me now. I’m not what she needs. But you . . . maybe you are.”
How the f**k did he think that made sense?
“She’ll be OK. She’ll be much better without me. ’Bye, Rush,” Abe said, with a heaviness to his voice that I hadn’t heard before. Then the line went dead.
He had hung up.
She would be fine. I would make sure of it. She’d be motherfucking perfect. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. I’d protect her. She didn’t have a father to keep her safe, but she had me. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
She had me.
I didn’t want to talk to Grant anymore. I needed to be alone. To think. To plan. Blaire was mine to protect. I had to make sure I didn’t let her down again. She deserved so damn much.
I came home hours later with a newfound determination. I would be Blaire’s friend. I would be her best friend. Fucking best damn friend she ever had. Nothing would touch her or hurt her. She wouldn’t want me making things easy or taking care of her, so I would have to do it quietly Make her think she was handling it.
I opened the door, a smile touching my lips. Knowing she was inside made things seem right with the world. Until I saw her on the steps dressed like a f**king wet dream.
Holy hell, why was she wearing that?
A short denim skirt with boots—cowboy boots . . . dear Lord, have mercy. “Day-um,” I muttered, closing the door behind me. She was going out in that. To the club . . . with Bethy Shit. “You, uh, wearing that out to go clubbing?” I asked, trying not to let her hear the panic in my voice.
“It’s called honky-tonking. I’m pretty sure it’s a completely different thing,” she said, smiling at me nervously.
A bar. She was going to a bar. Dressed like that.
I ran my hand through my hair and tried to remind myself that she wanted us to be friends. Friends didn’t lose their shit and demand that each other change clothes before leaving the house.
“Can I come with y’all tonight? I’ve never been honky-tonking,” I said.
Blaire’s eyes went wide. “You want to go with us?”
I let my gaze travel down her body again. Oh hell, yes, I did. “Yeah, I do.”
She shrugged. “OK. If you really want to. We need to leave in ten minutes, though. Bethy is expecting me to pick her up.”
She was going to let me go. No argument. Thank God. “I can be ready in five,” I assured her, and took off up the stairs. I could get changed and down here in plenty of time. Drunk men in a bar with Blaire looking like an angel in a pair of cowboy boots was not happening. At least not without me there to beat them off her.
If I was going to a damn country bar, I was going looking like the son of Dean Finlay. Country bars weren’t my thing, although Blaire’s boots were definitely on my list of favorite things. Any reason to see her in those boots was a plus.
I grabbed a Slacker Demon shirt and threw it on with my jeans. Then I added my thumb ring. I brushed my teeth and added deodorant before stopping and looking at myself in the mirror. I was missing something.
I grabbed a few of the small hoops I wore on occasion and slid them into my ear. Sticking out my tongue, I grinned, thinking about Blaire’s interest in my tongue piercing. She was almost in my lap last night trying to look at it. If she attempted that tonight, I might just let her crawl all over me. Shaking my head at my thoughts, which would lead to nothing but trouble, I ran for the stairs. I hadn’t taken ten minutes, but I was pushing it.
On my way back down the stairs, my eyes found Blaire, who was watching me closely. It made my heart speed up when she looked at me like I was some kind of treat. God knows I had thought about tasting her in many, many ways. The idea of her having any naughty thoughts about me got me more excited than I needed to be in these tight jeans.
“I figure if I’m going to a honky-tonk with guys in boots and cowboy hats, I need to stay true to my roots. Rock and roll is in my blood. I can’t pretend to fit in anywhere else,” I explained.
She laughed. “You’re going to look as out of place tonight as I do at your parties. This should be fun. Come on, rock-star spawn,” she said, looking pleased before heading toward the door.
I hurried around her and opened the door for her. Something else I should have been doing all along. “Since your friend is riding with us, why don’t we take one of my cars? We ’d all be more comfortable than in your truck,” I suggested. I wanted her sitting up front with me. Close to me. So I could look at those legs . . . and boots. I didn’t want to be crammed into a truck with Bethy.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “But we’d fit in better if we took my truck.”
I pulled out the small remote from my pocket to open the door to the garage where my Range Rover was parked. Blaire swung her gaze over and watched as the door opened.
“That’s certainly impressive,” she said.
“Does that mean we can take mine? I’m not crazy about sharing a seat with Bethy. The girl likes to touch things without permission,” I said. She’d never touched me, but I had heard about her.
“Yes, she does. She’s a bit of a flirt, isn’t she?” Blaire said, grinning.
“ ‘Flirt’ is a kind word for her,” I replied.
“OK. Sure. We can take the badass Rush Finlay’s killer wheels, if he insists,” Blaire said with a shrug.
Score. Now I needed to get her into the passenger seat before she tried to climb into the back. I headed toward the Range Rover, nodding for her to follow.
I opened the door for her, and she stopped and looked up at me. “Do you open all your friends’ car doors?”
I never opened doors for girls. It made them expect more. But with Blaire, I wanted to. I wanted her to feel cherished. Damn, this was dangerous. “No,” I told her honestly, and moved away to get in on my side. I shouldn’t flirt. I shouldn’t treat her like there could be more.
I climbed in. I wasn’t sure what to say to her now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude,” she said, breaking the silence.
I was making this weird for her. I had to work on that if this was going to work. “No. You’re right. I just don’t have any female friends, so I’m not good at balancing what I should do and what I shouldn’t.”
“So you open doors for your dates? That’s a very chivalrous thing to do. Your mother raised you right.” She almost sounded jealous. But . . . no. That made no sense.
“Actually, no, I don’t. I . . . you just seem like the kind of girl who deserves to have her door opened. It just made sense in my head at the moment. But I get what you’re saying. If we’re going to be friends, I need to draw a line and stay behind it.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you for opening it for me. It was sweet.”
“We need to pick Bethy up at the country club. She’ll be at the office back behind the clubhouse at the golf course. She had to work today. She’s showering and dressing there,” Blaire explained.
I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the club. Blaire and Bethy seemed like two completely different people. The idea of them being friends didn’t fit. “How did you and Bethy become friends?”
“We worked together one day. I think we were both in need of a friend. She’s fun and free-spirited. Everything I’m not.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You don’t want to be like Bethy. Trust me.”
She didn’t argue with me. At least she knew that Bethy was not someone to imitate. When she didn’t say anything else, I focused on getting us to the club and not staring at her legs, which she’d just crossed, making her skirt even shorter. Blaire had great legs. The little bit of sun she’d gotten on the beach made her skin glow.
The idea of those legs wrapped around me made me tremble. I kept my eyes on the road, and when she shifted, I didn’t look down. She was moving her legs. Damn.
When I parked in front of the office, she opened the door immediately and jumped down. Shit. Was she moving to let Bethy into the passenger seat? I didn’t want Bethy next to me.
Blaire had started for the door when it opened, and out stepped Bethy, dressed like she charged for sex. Red leather shorts? Really?
“What the hell are you doing in one of Rush’s rides?” she asked, looking at the Range Rover and then back at Blaire.
“He’s going with us. Rush wants to check out a honkytonk, too. So . . .” Blaire glanced back at me.
“This is seriously going to cramp your chances of picking up a man. Just saying,” Bethy said, as she walked down the steps. Then she paused and took in Blaire’s outfit. “Or not. You look hot. I mean, I knew you were gorgeous, but you look really hot in that outfit. I want me some real cowgirl boots. Where’d you get those?” No shit. She looked f**king amazing. I hadn’t spent time around Bethy, but I liked the fact she wasn’t too catty to admit that Blaire looked amazing.
“Thank you, and as for the boots, I got them for Christmas two years ago from my mom. They were hers. I had loved them since she bought them, and after she got, after . . . she got sick, she gave them to me.”
My chest constricted. I hadn’t known they were her mother’s. Fuck. I’d been thinking about doing naughty things to her in them, and they were a memory from her mother. I felt like an ass.
“Your mom got sick?” Bethy asked. Apparently, they hadn’t talked much. Or was I the only one Blaire had told about her mom?
“Yeah. But that’s another story. Come on, let’s go find us some cowboys,” Blaire said, waving off her question. She wanted to find a cowboy. Damn, that made it hard to breathe. She wouldn’t have a hard time finding a man with a pulse. They were all going to come running when they saw her. I couldn’t hinder her fun time. She’d never let me come with her again.
Finding a way to stay close and watch her without getting in the way was going to be tricky. And hard as fuck. I was going to want to rip the arms off anyone who touched her. I wasn’t making any promises if someone touched her ass. It would be on then.
Bethy sauntered toward the Range Rover, grinning at me like she knew my secret. Then she walked past the passenger door and opened the door to the backseat. “I’ll let you ride up front, because I have a sneaky feeling that is where the driver wants you,” she said, as she let her hair fall over her face and winked at me.