Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(2) by Abbi Glines

But then again, maybe she did. I knew nothing about this girl. I only knew that her father was a f**king mooch. He took what my mother and Nan gave him¸ yet he never returned their tokens of affection or love. The man was cold. I had seen it in his eyes. He cared nothing for Nan or my stupid mother. He was using them both.

The girl was beautiful. There was no question about that. But she had also been raised by that man. She could be a master manipulator. Using her beauty to get what she wanted and not caring whom she hurt along the way.

I walked down the steps and toward the truck. She was still sitting there, and I wanted her gone before Grant came out and fell for this act of hers. He’d take her home with him. And she’d use him until she was bored. I wasn’t just protecting my sister; I was protecting my brother from her, too. Grant was an easy target.

She turned, and her eyes collided with mine before she let out a scream. Her red-rimmed eyes sure looked like she’d been crying real tears. No one was out here to see her, so there was the slight possibility that this wasn’t part of an elaborate scam.

I waited for her to do something other than stare at me like I was the stranger when she was on my property. As if she’d read my mind, she swung her gaze back to her steering wheel and made a move to crank the truck.


She started to become frantic in her attempts to get the truck to crank, but from the click I’d heard, I guessed there wasn’t a drop of gas in her tank. Maybe she was desperate. I still didn’t trust her.

The sight of her hitting her steering wheel in frustration was funny. What good was that gonna do if the idiot had run her tank completely empty?

She finally opened the door to the truck and looked up at me. If she wasn’t as damn innocent as she looked, then the girl was a hell of an actress.

“Problems?” I asked.

The look on her face said she didn’t want to tell me that she couldn’t leave. I reminded myself again that this was Abe Wynn’s daughter. The one he had raised. The one he had abandoned Nan for all those years. I would not feel sorry for her.

“I’m out of gas,” she said with a soft voice.

No shit. If I let her go back inside, I was going to have to deal with Nan. If I didn’t, Grant would take care of her. And then she would more than likely take advantage of him.

“How old are you?” I asked. I should have known this already, but damn, I thought she was older than she looked. The big-eyed, scared look on her face made her seem so young. The way she filled out that tank top and jeans was the only sign that she was at least legal.

“Nineteen,” she replied.

“Really?” I asked, not sure I believed her.

“Yes. Really.” The annoyed frown was cute. Dammit. I didn’t want to think she was cute. She was a f**king complication I didn’t need.

“Sorry. You just look younger,” I said with a smirk. Then I let my gaze travel down her body. I didn’t need her thinking I was someone she could trust. I wasn’t. I never would be. “I take that back. Your body looks every bit of nineteen. It’s that face of yours that looks so fresh and young. You don’t wear makeup?”

She didn’t get offended, but her frown grew. Not my desired effect. “I’m out of gas. I have twenty dollars to my name. My father has run off and left me after telling me he’d help me get back on my feet. Trust me, he was the last person I wanted to ask for help. No, I don’t wear makeup. I have bigger problems than looking pretty. Now, are you going to call the police or a tow truck? If I get a choice, I prefer the police.”

Had she really just suggested I call the police? And was that disdain for her dear ol’ dad that I heard in her voice? I was pretty damn sure it was. Maybe he hadn’t been the model father that Nan had imagined in her head from the one short visit she’d made to that house when she was a kid. Sounded like Abe was on her shit list.

“I don’t like your father, and judging from the tone in your voice, neither do you,” I said, letting the idea that maybe she was another casualty of Abe Wynn sink in. He’d abandoned Nan, and it sure as hell sounded like he had abandoned this daughter, too. I was about to do something I would regret. “There is one room that is empty tonight. It will be until my mom gets home. I don’t keep her maid around when she isn’t here—Henrietta only stops by to clean once a week while Mom is on vacation. You can have her bedroom under the stairs. It’s small, but it’s got a bed.”

The look of disbelief and relief on her face almost made the idea of facing Nan worth it. Even though I was pretty damn sure Blaire and Nan had father-abandonment issues in common, I knew Nan would never accept that. She was determined to hate someone, and Blaire was going to take the brunt of her anger.

“My only other option is this truck. I can assure you that what you’re offering is much better. Thank you,” she said tightly.

Fuck. Had I really been about to leave this girl in a truck? That was dangerous. “Where’s your suitcase?” I asked, wanting to get this over with and talk to Nan.

Blaire closed the truck door and walked back to get her suitcase. There was no way her little body was picking that up and lifting it over the bed of the truck. I reached behind her and grabbed it.

She spun around, and the astonished look on her face made me grin. I winked at her. “I can carry your bag. I’m not that big of an ass.”

“Thank you a-again,” she said with a stutter, as those big, innocent-looking eyes locked with mine.

Damn, her eyelashes were long. I didn’t see girls without their makeup often. Blaire’s natural beauty was startling. I would have to remind myself that she was nothing but trouble. That and keep my f**king distance. Maybe I should have let her get her own bag. At least if she thought I was an asshole, she’d stay away.

“Ah, good, you stopped her. I was giving you five minutes and then coming out here to make sure you hadn’t completely run her off,” Grant said, snapping me out of whatever trance this girl had put me under. Motherfucker, I had to stop this shit now.

“She’s gonna take Henrietta’s room until I can get in touch with her father and figure something out,” I replied, and shoved the luggage at Grant. “Here, you take her to her room. I have company to get back to.”

I didn’t glance back at her, nor did I make eye contact with Grant. I needed distance. And I needed to talk to Nan. She wasn’t going to be happy, but there was no way in hell I was letting that girl sleep in her truck. She would draw attention. She was gorgeous and completely unable to take care of herself. Dammit! Why had I gone and pulled Abe Wynn into our life? He was causing all this shit.

Nan was standing at the door with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me. I wanted her pissed. As long as she was mad at me, she wouldn’t cry. I didn’t deal well when she cried. I’d been the one trying to ease her pain since she was little. When Nan cried, I immediately started trying to fix things.

“Why is she still here?” Nan snapped, looking over my shoulder before I could shut the door and block out the fact that Grant was headed this way with Blaire.

“We need to talk.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the door and toward the stairs. “Upstairs. If you’re gonna yell, I don’t want to cause a scene,” I told her, making sure to use my stern voice.

She frowned and stomped up the stairs like a five-year-old.

I followed her up, hoping she would get far enough away from the front door before it opened. I didn’t take a deep breath until she was stalking into the bedroom she had used back when this was our summer home. Before I became an adult and took what was mine.

“You’re buying her shit, aren’t you? Grant talked you into it! I knew I should have followed him out there. He is such a dickhead. He’s only doing this to get to me,” she spat out before I could say anything.

“She’s staying in the room under the f**king stairs. It isn’t like I’m putting her up here. And she’s only staying until I can get a hold of Abe and figure out what to do. She has no gas in her truck and no money to get a hotel room. You want to be mad at somebody, fine, be mad at motherfucking Abe!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but the more I thought about Abe running off to Paris knowing that his daughter was headed here in a beat-up old truck with no money, the more it pissed me off. Anything could have happened to her. She was too damn breakable and needy.

“You think she’s hot. I saw the look in your eyes. I’m not stupid. That’s all this is,” Nan said, before sticking out her lip in a pout. “Seeing her hurts me, Rush. You know that. She had him for sixteen years. It’s my turn!”

I shook my head in disbelief. She thought she had Abe now? Really? He was off living it up in Paris on my mother’s dime, and Nan thought that meant she had won? “He’s a f**king loser, Nan. She had his ass for sixteen years. I don’t think that means she won something. He let her come here thinking he would help her and didn’t think twice about the fact that she’s a little helpless girl with these big-ass sad eyes that any man could take advantage of.” I stopped talking, because I was saying too much.

Nan’s eyes went wide. “Holy hell! Don’t you f**k her! You hear me? Do not f**k her! She leaves as soon as you can kick her out. I do not want her here.”

Talking to my sister was like talking to a wall. She was so stubborn. I wasn’t doing this anymore. She could make all the demands she wanted, but I owned this house. I owned her condo. I owned everything in her life. I was in control. Not her.

“Go back down to your party and your friends. I’m going to bed. Let me handle this the way it needs to be handled,” I said, then turned and headed for the door.

“But you’re gonna f**k her, aren’t you?” Nan asked from behind me.

I wanted her to stop saying that word in relation to Blaire, because, damn it all to hell, it was making me think about all that white-blond hair on my pillow and those eyes looking up at me as she climaxed. I didn’t answer Nan. I wasn’t going to f**k Blaire Wynn. I was going to keep as far away from her as possible. But Nan wasn’t going to order me around, either. I made my own choices.


The music was loudly pumping downstairs, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear it up in my room.

I wasn’t in the mood for all that shit down there. I hadn’t been in the mood before Blaire Wynn showed up, and I sure wasn’t in the mood now.

“There you are,” a female cooed, and I turned to see one of Nan’s friends from the club walking toward me. Her skirt was so short her ass almost hung out of the back. That had been the only reason I noticed her. Hard to miss an ass right there on display. I couldn’t remember her name¸ though.

“You lost?” I asked, not liking that she’d come upstairs. My rule was to keep the party away from my personal space.

She pushed her chest out and bit down on her bottom lip before batting her eyelashes at me. Long fake eyelashes. Nothing like Blaire’s. Fuck me. Why was I thinking about Blaire?

“I’m exactly where I want to be. With you,” she said in a husky whisper, before pressing her tits to my chest and running her hand down to cup my dick. “I’ve heard how good you can make a girl feel. How you can make her scream from orgasms, over and over again,” she said, gently squeezing me. “Make me come, Rush.”

I reached down and grabbed a strand of her blond hair. It wasn’t as blond as . . . no. Goddammit, I was doing it again. Comparing everything about her to Blaire. This was an issue I needed to get control of—now. “Beg,” I told her.

“Please, Rush,” she quickly replied, and she rubbed my uninterested c**k to life. “I want you to f**k me, please.”

She was good. Sounded almost like a p**n star. “It’s just sex, babe. Nothing more. And it’s just tonight,” I told her. I always made sure they knew the rules. We wouldn’t have a repeat unless she was damn good.

“Hmm, I’ll remind you that you said that,” she said, winking up at me like she didn’t believe me at all. Either she was f**king brilliant in the sack, or it was wishful thinking on her part. I hardly ever went back for seconds. “Where’s your room?” she asked, pressing a kiss to my chest.

“Not taking you to my room,” I told her, and shoved her back until she stumbled into the guest bedroom I used for sex. Girls didn’t get to go to my room. That was my place, and I didn’t want memories of females up there.

“Oh, Mr. Impatient,” she said, giggling as she shimmied out of her skirt and licked her lips. “I’m a pro at sucking cock.”

I pulled my shirt off and went over to sit on the bed. “Show me,” I replied.

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