Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,9
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.
I learned quickly those things meant little to me.
I knew firsthand what greed could do. The lengths that people would go to in order to build and protect it.
But this…this was for a man who’d turned me inside out and hadn’t had the first clue.
The one who didn’t know he’d been the first to make me feel.
The first to make me want.
I inhaled a sharp breath when that anticipation turned to a burn.
A boil in my blood that had sweat slicking across my skin.
The SUV came to a stop in the round drive in front of the five massive steps leading to the front door.
I tried to convince myself the physical reaction was only because I was getting ready to witness history being made. Two bands at completely different spectrums of the music industry, one country and the other metal, preparing to converge in the same spot.
Carolina George and A Riot of Roses.
A confluence of differences and like-minds that together I was sure sheer magic would be made.
Or maybe it was the fire.
The truth that I was displaced from my first home.
Or maybe…maybe I should just be real.
Accept it.
Acknowledge it was entirely, one-hundred-percent, due to that crush.
That mad, unrelenting crush that made me feel like I was going to get pulverized.
Smashed into oblivion. Because standing at the top of the steps was Rhys Manning.