Rushing In: A Small Town Family Romance

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Rushing In: A Small Town Family Romance Page 1

by Claire Kingsley




  Rushing In

  The Bailey Brothers Book Four

  Claire Kingsley

  Copyright © 2020 by Claire Kingsley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Published by Always Have, LLC

  Edited by Eliza Ames

  Cover Model: Lucas Loyola

  Cover Photography by Wander Aguiar

  www.clairekingsleybooks.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Keep in touch with CK

  About this book

  Prologue

  1. Gavin

  2. Gavin

  3. Skylar

  4. Skylar

  5. Gavin

  6. Skylar

  7. Gavin

  8. Skylar

  9. Skylar

  10. Gavin

  11. Skylar

  12. Gavin

  13. Gavin

  14. Skylar

  15. Skylar

  16. Gavin

  17. Gavin

  18. Skylar

  19. Skylar

  20. Gavin

  21. Skylar

  22. Gavin

  23. Skylar

  24. Gavin

  25. Skylar

  26. Gavin

  27. Skylar

  28. Skylar

  29. Gavin

  30. Skylar

  31. Skylar

  32. Gavin

  33. Skylar

  34. Gavin

  35. Gavin

  36. Skylar

  37. Gavin

  38. Skylar

  39. Gavin

  40. Skylar

  41. Gavin

  42. Skylar

  43. Gavin

  44. Skylar

  Epilogue

  Broken Miles: Chapter 1

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Claire Kingsley

  About the Author

  For the shy, the quiet, and the scared. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s feeling fear and doing it anyway.

  You are brave.

  Keep in touch with CK

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  About this book

  She’s the one girl he can’t have.

  With his dimpled grin and devilish charm, firefighter Gavin Bailey is hot as a five-alarm fire and twice as dangerous. The youngest of five brothers, he’s the daredevil of the family. Until the unexpected strikes and he finds himself sidelined.

  Skylar Stanley’s life didn’t just fall apart. It exploded. Spectacularly. Dropped by her publisher and her agent, and dumped by her boyfriend, she suddenly has no place to live and a career circling the drain. She comes home to the quirky, feuding small town she hasn’t lived in since Kindergarten to pick up the pieces. And hopefully find her mojo.

  Gavin would happily help Skylar get her groove back—in and out of the bedroom—except for one big problem. Her dad is Gavin’s boss, mentor, and the closest thing he’s ever had to a father.

  As much as Gavin loves racing headlong into danger, Skylar is a risk of a different kind. One that he’s determined to avoid.

  But the line between friends and lovers gets awfully blurry, and Gavin just might find the one thing that truly scares him.

  Losing her.

  Author’s note: The wild child of the Bailey clan meets his match in a shy writer who’s braver than she thinks. A sexy, feel-good story with pranks and shenanigans, Bailey-style brotherly love, a rescue kitten, plus delightfully dirty fantasies come true and a happily ever after that will make your heart burst with sunshine and rainbows.

  The Bailey Brothers series is meant to be read in order. Start with book one, Protecting You.

  Prologue

  Skylar

  This prologue also appears as the epilogue at the end of Unraveling Him: Bailey Brothers Book 3.

  “Skylar, we need to talk.”

  It wasn’t just that phrase—naturally so loaded with meaning—that made my stomach twist into a knot of dread. It was Cullen’s tone. Flat. Emotionless.

  “Sounds serious,” I said, trying to keep the mood light in case I was overreacting. Maybe we needed to talk about where to make dinner reservations, or a similarly innocuous subject.

  Cullen stood in the kitchen of our apartment, all California-boy handsome with his ice-blue eyes, tan skin, and natural highlights in his thick, dark blond hair. Trade his button-down and slacks for a pair of board shorts and a muscle shirt, and he would have fit right in on a beach somewhere.

  Which got me thinking… a California surfer boy discovers a body while he’s on a deserted beach at sunrise—

  “Skylar,” Cullen snapped. “See? You’re not even listening to me.”

  “I’m sorry, I just had an idea. What did you say?”

  “It’s over.”

  His words hit me like the jab of a needle straight into my chest, the shock of them rendering me briefly speechless. I stared at him while he took his phone out of his pocket and the corner of his mouth twitched in the hint of a smile.

  “What did you say?”

  He pocketed his phone, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. That almost-smile on his lips melted into pinched annoyance. “You’re going to make me repeat myself again? Let me guess, you were brainstorming more book ideas that you’re never going to write.”

  Ouch. Talk about hitting below the belt. “No. I just don’t understand what you’re saying right now.”

  “Why are you making this hard?”

  “How am I making this hard? You throw the words it’s over at me, completely out of nowhere, and I’m supposed to just carry on with my day?”

  “Well, no, obviously not.”

  “Then what do you think I’m going to say? Of course I’m going to ask you what you mean.”

  “Fine,” he said, like my asking for clarification was the most annoying request ever. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a long time. So this is it. I’m done.”

  “Since when are you not happy?”

  “I just said I haven’t been for a long time.”

  I stared at him, bewildered. Cullen wasn’t what you’d call a happy person—never had been. He was serious and stoic. Focused and responsible. Happy wasn’t his vibe. But the idea that he’d been unhappy with me was such a foreign concept, I didn’t know how to make sense of it.

  There had been no warning. None at all. I’d thought he was fine.

  I thought we were fine.

  That wasn’t even the half of it. I thought we might be forever.

  The buzz of the refrigerator suddenly roared in my ears, like a thousand mosquitos flying around my head. I tried to hold still—tried not to twitch. He’d tell me I was being dramatic and unreasonable. Calm down, Skylar, the fridge isn’t loud.

  The vibration crawled up my spine. I couldn’t stand still anymore. Not right here. Stopping myself from sticking
my fingers in my ears, I wandered into the living room.

  “This is just… really sudden,” I said.

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “Excuse me?” I whirled on him. “You’re breaking up with me and it’s not your fault?”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “No, it’s not my fault that this is taking you by surprise. You should have seen this coming.”

  “How could I have seen this coming? We had sex last night. You didn’t seem unhappy when you had your dick in me.”

  “Jesus, Skylar, don’t be vulgar.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy?”

  “It’s not like you’ve been fully invested in this relationship. You moved out for months.”

  “I moved in with my mom so I could take care of her after her surgery. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You said it would be a few weeks, and months later, you were still living there.”

  I gaped at him. “I moved back. And she’s my mom, Cullen. She needed my help.”

  He shrugged, like her relationship to me wasn’t a factor. “We grew apart a long time ago. You’re just too busy living in fantasyland to realize it.”

  I swallowed hard. Was he right? I was distracted a lot. Had I been so lost in my own head that I’d missed the signs? Had I neglected him so much that he’d fallen out of love with me?

  He pulled out his phone again and typed something.

  “What are you doing?”

  He finished, then slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Nothing.”

  “Will you stop having a conversation with someone else while you’re throwing my life in the garbage?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “I’m not being dramatic. Are you dumping me as a client too?”

  “That’s best for everyone involved.”

  I couldn’t think clearly. Too many emotions whipped around inside me, like a tornado flinging debris across the landscape of my heart. Cullen Bell wasn’t just my boyfriend of three years and the man I currently lived with. He was my literary agent. My link to the editors at the big publishing houses.

  Including the publisher who’d dropped me last year.

  And the others who might pick me up.

  Not that I’d written anything new in months.

  Oh my god.

  “So that’s it? You’re done with me?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out again.

  A sick realization spread through me, like dark smoke filling a room. The back of my throat burned and the knot of dread in the pit of my stomach grew.

  “Who is she?”

  His blue eyes lifted, his expression devoid of any emotion. “Don’t.”

  “Are you cheating on me?”

  “Skylar, don’t make this worse.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I’m trying to make this easier on you. You don’t need to go there.”

  “By acting like this is my fault?” I crossed my arms. “Who is she?”

  He glanced away.

  “If you’re leaving me for another woman, the least you can do is tell me who she is so I—”

  “Pepper Sinclair.”

  I clicked my mouth shut. Maybe he was right. I should have seen this coming.

  Pepper Sinclair was perfect. A New York Times bestselling author of inspirational women’s fiction. She was stunningly beautiful with flawless skin, perfect bone structure, a gorgeous smile, thick hair, and the type of boobs that most women had to pay a lot of money for.

  Her social media following numbered in the millions, men and women hanging on her every word, clamoring for glimpses into her perfectly tailored, manicured, pristine life.

  Everyone loved her.

  Including, apparently, my boyfriend. Who was also her agent.

  “Wait, Pepper’s married.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s getting a divorce.”

  Maybe not so perfect after all.

  Not that it mattered. She was still stealing my boyfriend.

  I looked away, my eyes stinging with tears. Cullen had taken her on as a client last year, after they’d met at a writer’s conference in Denver. I’d been there, too, dutifully attending the meetings Cullen had set up with editors, trying to salvage my quickly spiraling career.

  And I’d seen them together at the hotel bar.

  They hadn’t been touching—nothing overt. But the way he’d looked at her…

  Weeks later, after mulling it over for way too long, I’d asked him about it. He’d gotten mad. Accused me of not trusting him.

  “How long?” I heard myself ask.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. How long?”

  “Why are you making this harder on yourself?”

  “Because I need to know the truth.”

  He let out an irritated breath. “Denver.”

  My lip trembled. I caught it between my teeth so I wouldn’t cry. I was not letting him see me cry. He’d just tell me I was being overly sensitive anyway.

  I took a slow breath through my nose. “You’ve been cheating on me with Pepper Sinclair since last year?”

  “You’re making it sound worse than it is. In Denver, we…”

  He trailed off, looking away again. But there was no shame or regret in his posture or expression. He just wanted to finish this conversation so he could move on with his day.

  “In Denver, you what?”

  “Why are you—”

  “I’m not making this hard, Cullen. That’s on you. I didn’t make you have an affair with a married woman who’s also your client. You did that.”

  “Fine, you want to make me say it? In Denver, we didn’t sleep together, but… other things transpired. Since then I’ve been seeing her when I go to New York. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you getting all depressed. Things were bad enough after your series got dropped. I figured I’d give you some time to at least get writing again. But that’s obviously not going to happen, and I can’t keep waiting around for you to decide you’re over your writer’s block.”

  It was hard to get any words out, my voice almost a whisper. “All that time?”

  “What do you expect? You’re always distracted, always thinking of some plot or another, but you haven’t written anything in who knows how long. You spend all your time watching serial killer documentaries and looking up poisonous household chemicals or the best ways to hide a body. It’s disturbing.”

  “I write suspense novels. It’s research.”

  “It’s like living with the creepy goth girl who sat in the back of class and threatened people with voodoo dolls, only wrapped in a beautiful package. You look so normal.”

  If I’d ever wondered what it would feel like to have my very existence completely rejected, apparently this was it.

  “Look, you need to move out,” he said. “Pepper’s telling her husband today and she’s bringing her stuff here after.”

  “You’re moving her in?”

  “Well, yeah, she’s leaving her husband. She can’t exactly stay there.”

  “You’re leaving me. Why don’t you move out?”

  He looked at me like I’d just suggested he start eating meat again. “It’s my apartment.”

  The refrigerator’s buzz ceased, leaving behind an emptiness in the air. It was his apartment. He’d lived here first. In fact, everything in it was his. It had been fully furnished, the kitchen and bathrooms fully stocked, when I’d moved in. Almost nothing was mine.

  I was simply a guest who’d been here for an extended sleepover.

  A guest who’d overstayed her welcome.

  Calmly, I turned and walked to the bedroom. Took my suitcase out of the closet and started packing.

  So calm. Deadly calm.

  The beginning to a domestic suspense novel flitted through my head. A jilted wife, forced to move out of the home sh
e loved due to her husband’s infidelity. Her husband is found dead the next morning. She’s the prime suspect, and—

  “What are you doing?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the man I’d once thought I might marry. My voice sounded strangely flat. “You just broke up with me, so I’m packing.”

  “You were staring at the wall.”

  Turning to face him, I crossed my arms. “You know what, Cullen? Fuck you. You were never trying to make this easier on me, or give me time to start writing again, or keep me from getting depressed. You wanted to avoid telling me that you’re a cheating piece of shit. Because deep down, you know you were wrong. You know you betrayed me. And one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize it. You’re going to realize what you lost. And when you do, I’ll be long gone. So get out and let me pack.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed away. “Fine.”

  I went back to folding my clothes and placing them neatly in my suitcase. They weren’t all going to fit, and I didn’t have another bag.

 

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