Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

“Fine by me.”

Emily swatted him on the side of the arm. “You stop it. And would you watch your mouth. Our Amelia here has sensitive ears.”

His brow lifted toward the sky. “She’s six weeks old.”

“And you think she doesn’t hear you? Look at her little mouth twisting every time she hears your voice.”

“Fine. I’ll find better things to do with my mouth.” He leaned over and started running kisses along Emily’s neck.

I ducked my gaze and tried not to blush when I felt the roll of need and love billow through the air.

It was beautiful, but I definitely didn’t need to bear witness to it.

Emily giggled and Royce rumbled something I couldn’t make out before he pulled away, still angled to the side but twisting his attention so he was facing me.

Any playfulness had been wiped from his face. “I respect you, Maggie. Know you’re grown and you’ve got to do your own thing. But promise me one thing…promise you’ll keep your distance from Rhys. He’s trouble…the kind of trouble you don’t need.”

Worry heaved from his spirit.

And I knew he was right.

Rhys was trouble.

A danger to my soul. A threat to my heart that was barely mending. The scars so deep.

“I promise,” I forced out, not sure if it was a lie.

Royce nodded. “Good.”

He sat back in his seat, and Emily sent me a covert glance.

Her green eyes full of knowing concern.

Like she held a secret of mine.

Meeting her gaze, I attempted an indifferent smile. The one she returned was sympathetic.

Royce shifted around and sat forward.

Emily’s voice was soft though running with an undercurrent of fortitude. “And I need you to remember something, too, Royce…Rhys is one of my best friends. Like a brother to me. I know up until a few months ago, you’d come to feel the same way.”

Royce sighed. “I know that, Emily. But my sister will always be my first concern. You gotta respect that.”

“I do. I’m just askin’ you to respect mine and Rhys’ relationship, too. I truly believe he would never want to put her in danger. Sure, he’s made mistakes, but he is a good man.”

His nod was tight.

The two of them settled as we continued down the highway.

I stared at the back of his head.

The man was so rough and fiercely protective.

I knew it would take time for him to let go of all that had happened to me. What had happened to him. His single drive for so many years had been taking out the ones who had hurt us.

Now that they were gone, I sometimes wondered if he weren’t a little lost.

Floundering.

Like he was no longer quite sure of his purpose.

Thing was, I was sure there would always be a piece of me who would cling to him, too.

The part that would never forget what he’d sacrificed.

What he’d done.

I would forever be grateful.

Indebted.

I turned to gaze out the window at the passing marshlands that flashed by with each mile that brought us closer to the sea.

It suddenly felt like the moment was fluid.

Liquid.

A shaken concoction from the normal as we raced for the house that would be our home for the summer.

It felt as far away from Los Angeles as could be.

Our driver slowed as we got into town.

A town that whispered of peace and quiet and faith.

Like Dalton.

Warmth spread through my veins and my spirit shivered in anticipation.

The stampeding of my heart only intensified when the ocean suddenly came into view.

Crisp, blue waters fronted by white, smooth sand.

High grasses grew along the dunes, and the road curved so that we were following along rows of houses, condos, and apartments that faced the beach.

The houses here seemed older, not close to boasting of riches and luxury, but more a testament to that slowed, relaxed pace. Downtown, people strolled the sidewalks fronting bars, restaurants, and hotels in their beach attire.

Casually.

Relaxed and without a care.

We made it from one end to the other in what seemed a blip since the town was so tiny.

The driver made a left and started to inch down a narrow road.

Hurt and confusion fluttered and pulled at my insides, all mixed up with a flurry of excitement that had my breaths going short and shallow.

Here, the homes became increasingly larger and more luxurious. They were mostly concealed by palms and spindly trees, giving privacy to the beachfront properties.

I inhaled a shaky breath, taking in the sultry scent of the sea.

The driver took two more quick turns before he pulled through a gate and into a private driveway that made a big circle in front of an even larger house.

The Stone Industries mansion that housed its artists while they recorded.

Anxiety and need crawled over me when it came into view.

A shiver that raced across my flesh.

Not because I was impressed by lavish things. I’d seen plenty of that growing up the daughter of a crooked, wicked music mogul who’s worth was only found in the wealth that he controlled.