Purely Wicked: The Moore Cousins Read online

  I drop a kiss on her forehead and meet her eyes in the mirror. So many of her features come from her mother, but there’s no denying those eyes are mine. So many different shades of blue upon blue, she might as well have the whole fucking galaxy in there.

  “Grab your shoes, kiddo.”

  With a quick nod, Georgia lumbers down off the step-stool, clutching my arm for balance. Poor thing is more than a little awkward, growing faster than her body can keep up with. That’s another thing she got from me. She’s tall and thin. Almost too tall and too thin right now. She takes off down the hallway, her heels thumping heavily on the hardwood floors in that awkward way of hers.

  “Daddy?” she calls to me from her bedroom as I put away the hairbrush and slide her step-stool under the counter in her bathroom. At her request, I painted the walls in here a vibrant purple. She picked out a zebra print bathmat and shower curtain with matching towels. We found these giant decals of hot pink ladybugs that we’ve plastered all over the walls. It’s a neon explosion of pure girliness and it’s one hundred percent Georgia.

  “Yeah, Bug?”

  “It still echoes in here.” Her little voice comes tumbling down the hallway with her following right along behind it.

  “I know.”

  Our apartment in New York wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination but this house is palatial. It’s my cousin Ian’s. He owns a lot of rental properties along the beach here in Bliss and is letting us stay in this one until I decide how to move forward. I’ve got the money to buy enough stuff to fill this place up, I’m just not sure I’m ready to call Bliss home again. I’m also not sure I’m ready to leave again either, so today I have a meeting about a potential investment that could set me and my Bug up really fucking well.

  If I decide to stay.

  There’s a lot of money to be made on Wall Street, especially if you have a knack for trading. Which I do. But New York City is no place to raise a child. At least not the way I want to raise mine. But I want to provide a good life for her. Which means I need to make a lot of money. Which I can definitely do in the city. But will life there make my daughter too hard?

  And around and around I go. My own personal merry-go-round of self-doubt. My desire to give Georgia the best possible life keeps me tangled in a set of constant contradicting thoughts and questions. Love wrapped in worry and covered with bed time stories and big sloppy kisses.

  I watch her struggle to tie her shoes. That left hand just can’t get things figured out. Google says a lot of kids can tie their shoes at four, but that girls often take longer to learn and it can be as late as six before they’re really doing it on their own. Every time I watch that left hand work, I remind myself that Google says she’s fine, but my gut keeps telling me that something’s wrong. Her right hand is awkward, but that left hand? She uses it almost like she’s wearing a mitten, grasping things between her thumb and a big clump of her fingers. I coach her until we both lose patience and then I tie them for her. I like to think she’s making progress, but I’m really just fooling myself. She’s ages away from being able to do this on her own.

  “Come on, Bug.” I grab her bag off the floor and reach for her hand.

  “Can we get a shell?” She looks so vulnerable as she gazes up at me, its an arrow of fatherly feelings so big I can’t name them all straight to the heart.

  She likes to bring a little something from home with her when she’s nervous and ever since her first visit to the beach just off our back porch, she’s been obsessed with shells. We’ve only been in Bliss for just under a week and Georgia has never left New York City before. While she’s had her fair share of nannies and babysitters since her mom left us, she’s not always good at meeting new people. My aunt and uncle, Frank and Diane Moore, are watching her for me while I’m at my meeting. The Moores are great people. Some of the best I’ve met. But Georgia doesn’t know that yet.

  “Of course.” I hold open the door as she scurries out under my arm. “I wouldn’t let you leave here without one.”

  We scour the beach for the perfect shell and she asks me to leave a kiss in it before sticking it in her pocket. Never quiet when it’s just the two of us, Georgia chatters away during the short drive to my aunt and uncle’s, talking about the ocean and the sky and the birds and the heat. It’s September and when we left New York, fall was just starting to make itself known in the chilled air and yellow-tinged leaves. Not so here in South Carolina. The heat and sun are still going strong.

  As I pull into the Moores’ driveway, a slow smile spreads across my face and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. I spent the best year of my life here, just as enthralled with the heat and the sea as Georgia is now. It was also the hardest year of my life, but it changed my trajectory. I’m better off for the time I spent living with my uncle and my cousins. The same can’t be said of my older brothers who never got a chance to see how good life could get.

  Fear holds Georgia back from going inside at first, but Aunt Diane pulls off a fucking miracle. She manages to transform my Bug from a trembling little slip of a thing clinging to my leg into the giggling goof I know she is in under five minutes with little more than a silly story and a stick of gum. I get my hug goodbye and head towards downtown Bliss without the little rope of worry I wear around my neck whenever I leave my daughter with someone new.

  I take the time in the car to think through how I want to handle this meeting. Sam Beauchamp, the owner of Fantastic Sam’s, the only bar in all of Bliss, is ready to slow down. He’s getting older and has some health issues and wants to sell the place. Assuming it’s profitable enough and I’m really going to stay here and put down some roots, I’m in the mood to buy. But I need to be sure there’s a potential for profit that will not only provide a good life for me and Georgia now, but will also support me into my golden years. I chose to dress casually today because that’s just how people do things here in Bliss. I think I’ll keep my attitude casual as well, lots of smiles and small talk until I decide what kind of man Sam is.

  I park in the little lot beside the bar and take a deep breath as soon as I’m out of the car. There’s something special about the ocean air. Something fresh and alive and way the fuck better than the smog and urine-scented sidewalks of New York. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it until I showed up last week.

  The sun has started its descent towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the sidewalk and street. A few cars pass by and an older woman steps out of one of the shops, pausing to wave when she sees me notice her. As I smile and wave in return, a car pulls up in front of Fantastic Sam’s a few feet ahead of me. The passenger door swings open and none other than Ashley Thompson climbs out, leaning back into the open door to say something to the driver. Her shorts are so short and, with her bent over like that, the view is nothing if not amazing. I shake my head and smile, a flood of memories fighting for importance.

  Ashley Thompson.

  One of the reasons my year here in Bliss was so amazing. We only dated for a few months, a summer fling before I left for NYU. She was too young for me. Too sweet and gentle, but that had a lot to do with why I wanted her so much. She was fifteen and just starting to grow up and I was nineteen and had grown up too fast. Her innocence intrigued me. I wanted to take it and protect it all at the same time. She looked up to me, trusted me, asked me questions about life and it made me feel like I had something to give her. She was the first person to make me feel like I mattered.

  Ashley straightens, frowning as the driver takes off before she even finishes closing the door. I stare into the windshield, trying to see if this is the dickhead she was out with last week and lo and behold, there he is. I’m almost disappointed in her for settling for someone like him. She’s better than this. So much better. The driver slows as he passes me, leaning over so he can stare me down like he thinks he’s hard enough to intimidate me. I smile and wave because nothing pisses off an asshole like that more than someone being nice. The guy stomps on the g
as and spins his tires before catching traction and zooming off to wherever it is he’s going.

  Ashley stares at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She waves, just a little twiddle of her fingers, as the wind catches her long blonde hair and sends it dancing around her shoulders. She’s still beautiful, but she’s gotten lean and hard and wary and it makes me want to swoop her up and tell her everything will be okay like I used to when her parents would spend the whole night fighting and throwing things at each other. Of course, turns out I was lying back then and I’d probably be lying now, too. Life has a way of erasing all things sweet and kind. You either get hard or get hurt. From the way Ashley holds herself, I’d say it’s been a little of both for my sweet Sunshine.

  “Hey stranger,” I say as I draw up beside her. “It’s a little early for a drink.”

  She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and smiles up at me. “I work here.” She indicates the brick face of Fantastic Sam’s with a little jerk of her chin. “What’s your excuse?”

  “I might be working here, too.” I pull open the door and gesture for her to enter.

  She looks up at me as she passes, her brows crinkling in confusion. “At the bar? Aren’t you a big stock broker on Wall Street now?” There are a million questions floating in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask them.

  “How do you know that?” I ask jokingly, desperate to put the light back in Ashley’s smile, right where it belongs. “Have you been stalking me?” The lighting in the bar is dim and it takes my eyes a second to adjust. The place is definitely small town, there’s no getting around that. But Beauchamp did something right because the atmosphere manages to be warm and trendy without being too lofty for the locals. I can see a few places I’d like to make some changes, but it’s clear why this place is as successful as it is.

  Ashley shakes her head. “I may have stalked your Facebook page more than once.” She shrugs and tilts her head in that adorable way of hers. “I wanted to see how the other half lives once they leave the little people behind.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “That you made quite a life for yourself out in the big city. Fancy apartment. Beautiful wife. A little baby girl.” Ashley meets my gaze and sighs. “But then you stopped posting so I had to make up the rest. You’ve had quite a year, what with being such an upstart in the rodeo circuit and all.”

  “Rodeo circuit?”

  “Yeah.” Ashley leans against the bar. “After dominating Wall Street, you decided to take up cow wrangling.” She grins and it’s as wide and goofy as I remember. Just the way it should be.

  “Sure. That’s exactly what happened.” I shake my head and laugh a little.

  “Hey.” She lifts her eyebrows and gives a little quirk of her head, those blue eyes twinkling. “You’re the one who left the last two years up to my imagination. I can’t help it if I liked the thought of you being a cowboy.”

  She laughs and the sound reaches down into my gut and pulls up a million memories of the time we spent wrapped up together. The few times in my life I’ve been genuinely happy and carefree were almost all centered around Ashley. I have the strangest urge to touch her, to see if her skin is just as soft as I remember it, but after eight years, Ashley might as well be a stranger.

  The front door opens, letting in a long slice of white-hot sunlight, and Ashley’s gaze darts to the entrance. Her eyes go hard and the life drains from her face and she doesn’t look like my Ashley anymore. “Sorry,” she murmurs and races over to stand next to her boyfriend. He grips her arm and pulls her close, spitting words at her as he shoots dangerous looks in my direction. I sigh. So, not only is he an asshole, but he’s got jealousy issues, too. Noted.

  If things were different, I wouldn’t mind seeing if the chemistry between Ashley and me is still there. See if we could rekindle the fire that burned so hot and so bright between us eight years ago. There are just so many reasons why it’s a bad idea. Let’s forget the fact that she’s dating Captain Rage over there and I have a little girl who needs and deserves all the spare time I have to give. If I stay here, I’ll be her boss which is not the ideal way to start a relationship. And if I don’t stay? I’m not sure either of us could survive being torn apart again. The first time was bad enough. Besides. After what happened with Georgia’s mom, my little Bug is the only girl for me.

  I do my best to ignore the spectacle Ashley’s boyfriend is creating purely for my benefit. When Sam Beauchamp comes waddling out of the back to shake my hand, I turn my back on them and walk away, vowing to leave my feelings for Ashley Thompson in the past.

  If I can.

  Chapter Three

  The last few weeks have been one hell of a ride. I can’t even begin to get a grip on all the ups and downs of it all. First, Jackson Moore is buying Fantastic Sam’s. There’s so much info to digest in that one little item that it’s enough to keep my head spinning from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep.

  Two days after I ran into him outside the bar, Sam announced he was selling the place to Jackson. With Sam’s ailing health, no one’s surprised he wants to step down and have less to do every day. What is surprising is the fact that Jackson is the one buying the place. I never thought I’d see him again. And oh how my heart broke after he left. I’m not exaggerating when I say it took me years to recover. I gave him my heart, my body, my soul. When I needed someone to save me, he was there, running his hands through my hair and telling me everything was going to be alright. He was so confident, so assured, I believed him.

  My parents weren’t happy together. Honestly, by the time I reached my teenage years, I think they hated each other. They fought all the time. Every night. I would curl up in bed and bury my head in the blankets, humming to myself to cover up the hateful words they hurled at each other. Some nights it got so bad that words weren’t the only things that went flying. Shoes. Ashtrays. Whatever was in range at the time.

  When I met Jackson, he was brand new to town and so very strong. He had this aura of confidence that permeated the space around him. I craved him, the sense of protection that wrapped around me every time he came near. As our friendship grew, he became a safety net. He made it a habit to show up at my window each night to check on me. Some nights I was fine, but most nights I needed the reassurance of his arms around my shoulders, his words whispering against my skin.

  “It’s okay, Sunshine,” he’d say. “I’ve got you.” And, for the short time he was here, he did.

  I was a fool to believe he was a permanent fixture in my life.

  As the new owner, Jackson has been here at the bar every single night. Sometimes he’s locked in the office with Sam, but other nights he’s been out on the floor or behind the bar trying to get a feel for how things work. Which is really great. Under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled to know that my new boss is this engaged and so determined to do a good job. Fantastic Sam’s is iconic here in Bliss. It’s the only place to go to have a good time and it should be a relief to know that the new guy isn’t going to ruin everything.

  But, seeing as how I work six days a week, his dedication has meant a lot of unadulterated time with Jackson Moore. And here’s where the confusion sets in. I’m supposed to be in love with Cain, but every time I pass Jackson, my heart stutters and my veins might as well be carrying an electrical current. And let’s just say we happen to touch—which has happened so many times I’m starting to think it’s intentional on his part—well, all it takes is one hand on my arm to turn my insides to jelly and my brain to mush. I blush and drop my eyes. I smile and feel warm on the inside for the first time in a long time. I don’t know about you, but that sounds a whole hell of a lot like love to me.

  When did I turn into the kind of person who lusts after another woman’s man?

  I’m the lowest person on this earth because not only am I in a long-term relationship, but Jackson is married. If I found out Cain was feeling this way about another woman, the betrayal would crush me. Things between us
may not be great, but we made a commitment to each other. One that shouldn’t be broken until we aren’t a couple anymore. That’s just the way of it.

  This week with Jackson though, it’s put a lot of things into perspective. Like, I don’t remember the last time I felt anything but awful around Cain. While excitement floods through me when I get to work and see Jackson, I dread the moment Cain walks into the bar to pick me up. There’s so much hate and rage in his eyes and my stomach twists up in knots whenever he’s around. It makes me wonder if I ever felt all warm and tingly around him. I don’t remember what it felt like to fall in love with Cain. Not the way I remember falling in love with Jackson.

  A couple nights ago, I sat next to Cain while he muttered curse words at the TV and mashed buttons on his controller and I really, honestly, took a look at my life. At the coffee table littered with empty beer and soda cans. At the broken TV stand—collateral damage in one of Cain’s tirades after losing a game. The pile of dishes in the sink and my upcoming shift at the bar. Cain called in to work that day, but I knew before I left that the dishes would still be waiting for me when I got home. The worst part of always finding the bright side of things is that some pretty fucked up shit can happen and all you do is smile your way through it. I got so caught up in the habit of putting one foot in front of the other that things went from bad to worse without me ever noticing.

  As I watched his lips twist and contort while he focused on his game that night, I realized that I didn’t love him. That I never really had. In that moment, I realized that we’re over. That we’ve been over. The realization that I was ready to leave him came with such a flood of relief that tears welled up in my eyes and coursed down my cheeks. I sat there staring at him, crying at the realization that there was nothing left between us, and he didn’t even notice.