The guy pulled the suitcase out then turned back to me.
"What? You forgot to ask when you had the nine-millimeter pointed at my face?" he replied.
I sighed. Okay, maybe I'd gone a little overboard with the gun but he'd scared me.
"I'm Grant, a, uh, friend of Rush's."
"Rush?" There was that name again. Who was Rush?
Grant's grin grew big once again. "You don't know who Rush is?" He was extremely amused. "I'm so f**king glad I came tonight."
He nodded his head toward the house, "Come on. I'll introduce you."
I walked beside him as he led me to the house. The music inside got louder as we got closer. If my dad wasn't here, then who was? I knew Georgiana was his new wife but that was all I knew. Was this a party her kids were having? How old were they? She did have kids, didn't she? I couldn't remember. Dad had been vague. He'd said I'd like my new family but he hadn't said who that family was exactly.
"So, does Rush live here?" I asked.
"Yeah, he does, at least in the summer. He moves to his other houses according to the season."
"His other houses?"
Grant chuckled, "You don't know anything about this family your dad has married into, do you, Blaire?"
He had no idea. I shook my head.
"Quick mini lesson then before we walk inside the madness," he replied stopping at the top of the stairs leading to the front door and looked at me. "Rush Finlay is your stepbrother. He's the only child of the famous drummer for Slacker Demon, Dean Finlay. His parents never married. His mother, Georgianna, was a groupie back in the day. This is his house. His mother gets to live here because he allows it." He stopped and looked back at the door, as it swung open. "These are all his friends."
A tall, willowy, strawberry blonde wearing a short royal blue dress and a pair of heels that I'd break my neck in if I tried to wear them stood there staring at me. I didn't miss the distaste in her scowl. I didn't know much about people like this but I did know that my department store clothing wasn't something she approved of. Either that or I had a bug crawling on me.
"Well, hello Nannette," Grant replied in an annoyed tone.
"Who is she?" the girl asked, shifting her gaze to Grant.
"A friend. Wipe the snarl off your face Nan it isn't an attractive look for you," he replied, reaching over to grab my hand and pull me into the house behind him.
The room wasn't as full as I'd assumed. As we walked past the large open foyer an arched doorway led into what I assumed was a living room. Even so, it was bigger than my entire house or what had been my house. Two glass doors were standing open with a breathtaking view of the ocean. I wanted to see that up close.
"This way," Grant instructed as he made his way over to a... bar? Really? There was a bar in the house?
I glanced over the people we passed by. They all paused for a moment and gave me a quick once over. I stood out big time.
"Rush, meet Blaire, I believe she might belong to you. I found her outside looking a little lost," Grant said and I swung my gaze from the curious people to see who this Rush was.
Oh.
Oh. My.
"Is that so?" Rush replied in a lazy drawl and leaned forward from his relaxed position on the white sofa with a beer in his hand. "She's cute but she's young. Can't say she's mine."
"Oh, she's yours alright. Seeing as her daddy has run off to Paris with your momma for the next few weeks. I'd say this one now belongs to you. I'd gladly offer her a room at my place if you want. That is if she promises to leave her deadly weapon in the truck."
Rush narrowed his eyes and studied me closely. They were an odd color. Stunningly unusual. They weren't brown. They weren't hazel. They were a warm color with some silver laced through them. I'd never seen anything like them. Could they be contacts?
"That doesn't make her mine," he finally replied and leaned back on the sofa where he'd been reclining when we walked up.
Grant cleared his throat. "You're kidding, right?"
Rush didn't reply. Instead he took a drink from the longneck bottle in his hands. His gaze had shifted to Grant's and I could see the warning there. I was going to be asked to leave. This wasn't good. I had exactly twenty dollars in my purse and I was almost out of gas. I'd already sold anything of value that I possessed. When I'd called my father I had explained that I just needed somewhere to stay until I could get a job and make enough money to go find a place of my own. He had quickly agreed and given me this address telling me he would love for me to come stay with him.