Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

Amish was a good man. A good father and husband. Never once had I seen him cheat on Henrietta, his wife of forty-five years. His ultimate pride and joy were his three grandsons: George, Charlie, and Frank. They were all younger than ten, and Amish loved telling stories about them. He was what I believed a real man should be. I respected him in many ways. I just would never be like him. I wasn’t a good man.

Needing to clear my mind of her lingering scent, I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. “What’s the latest on your grandsons, Amish? Is Charlie still playing soccer? And did George enter that art contest?”

That was all it took for Amish to distract me. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the glow of pride in the man’s words. That was what a kid needed to succeed in life. To grow and achieve something beyond the shadows.

I only knew the shadows. Nan would never see me again. I’d be a memory for her that she’d regret and soon forget. My existence would slowly fade, and I’d be back in the shadows, where I dwelled without need of emotion.

Major

Once the text from Cope came through, the weight on my chest lifted. I knew my chance to fix things was almost here.

I had debated waiting at the private airport where Nan would land or going to her house, but I figured both would give away the fact that I knew she was headed home, which was a bad move.

The idea of her being hurt didn’t sit well with me, but I wanted the chance to make it all right. To show her I could be what she needed. Other girls weren’t even appealing right now. I didn’t like the man I’d turned into when I’d lost her. This time, I would do things right. I would prove her innocence and get DeCarlo’s men off her trail.

We had a job to do, and we were wasting time on Nan. She didn’t need this in her life. I wanted to know she was safe. I wanted to see her truly happy. Fuck, what was wrong with me?

I was not in love with her. Jesus, why did I sound like I was? I needed to fucking focus.

Slacker Demon’s private jet came into view as it began descending. I was hidden in my truck, out of sight. The taste of the cigarettes still lingered on my tongue. I needed to make sure she got into her vehicle and got home safely. Then I’d text her. Check on her. Get back into her heart. I wasn’t sure what Cope had done to send her running home, but whatever it was, it was probably the right move.

Looking through my binoculars, I could see her red hair as she emerged from the jet. She was dressed in a pair of gray fitted pants and a white blouse that was cut low and hugged her waist tightly. She always looked expensive and sexy all at once. Never uptight or trashy. She found the happy medium and made it work. I loved how she dressed.

Rush walked up to her. I hadn’t expected him or even noticed him waiting for her. Damn, my head wasn’t in the game. I had just assumed her car would be waiting for her. I scanned the rest of the area for any other details I had missed. Rush’s Range Rover was parked behind the fence that ran along the perimeter of the jetway area. I hadn’t looked there.

She hugged him tightly, and he held her in his arms. I couldn’t see his face, but she nodded at something he said. He pulled back, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and walked her toward his vehicle.

I hoped this didn’t mean she was going home with him. I needed to see her alone.

Once they took off, I gave them a few moments before slowly following them. Rush didn’t turn toward her house but instead headed toward his. Motherfucker. This was going to suck.

Nan

Rush pulled his car into the garage and cut the engine, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Blaire has smoked salmon, some fancy-ass salad she makes with cranberries and goat cheese, and creamed spinach. It’s all healthy and shit. You’ll like it. Come on, she’s expecting us.”

Blaire wasn’t a fan of mine. I’d not done much to make her like me. Once she’d pulled a gun on me, but in all honesty, I’d deserved it. My anger and bitterness toward the life I’d been given had needed an outlet. I’d needed someone to blame, and I’d chosen Blaire. Maybe because she was the perfect little blond girl I thought my father had chosen over me when I was a child. I’d been wrong, since she and I did not, in fact, share the same father. I’d been lied to by my mother about that.

Maybe it was the fact that my brother, who had loved me most in the world, had fallen in love with her, and she’d become his number one. I had always found comfort in the fact that Rush loved me. Even when my mother didn’t act like it and my real father didn’t claim me, I knew my brother loved me. Blaire had stolen him from me—or at least that was how I saw it.

Seeing Rush with his family—the way he loved his son, the way he gave his wife and child the life he’d never had—made me proud of him, though. He wasn’t taught how to be a good parent, yet he was a fantastic one. I had finally come to grips with his love for his wife. It didn’t mean he didn’t love me, too. He loved us differently, and I was OK sharing him. That didn’t mean I was going to start hugging Blaire and being buddies and shit, though.

“Nate is looking forward to seeing Aunt Nan. He’s been talking about it ever since I told him you’d be coming for dinner. He expects you to sleep in his room.”

Having Nate’s love also helped me accept Blaire. She’d given life to a little boy who loved me. I didn’t have a lot of love in my world. My nephew was special. He loved me without fail, and I, in return, couldn’t hate his mother. I adored that kid.

“I’m sure whatever Nate asks me to do, I’ll do,” I replied honestly. He owned me.