He knew he’d been screwing things up with Rowan, but damn it all to hell, he hadn’t meant to build any type of barrier between them. He lived for her. She knew that! He had wanted Rowan from the sidelines for months. It still shocked him that she was finally his. Watching and doing were two vastly different actions.
Where he would normally watch her interact with her sisters and his sons, he was now expected to jump right in the middle of them. The five of them were a group, one he knew he could join, and did on occasion, but also one that he didn’t feel he quite fit.
He loved his sons. He loved their wives. He loved Rowan. They were all of an age. He belonged to a way older demographic.
The day before Rowan had been taken had been one of the best of his life. He thought then that as long as they were together, he could handle getting out of his comfort zone. Sheand her sisters told each other everything. He told himself he didn’t care. He could laugh it off like his sons did—and if that were the only thing, he could and would endure the ribbing.
The truth was, all of those things were true, but not the real problem. He fucking hated he was so much older than Rowan. He hated that she was the youngest out of the whole family besides his grandson, Daniel.
While they were at the rehabilitation center, he could tell she didn’t understand why he was standoffish during the day. He was hoping she wouldn’t address it.
The thought of having everyone there know he was in an intimate relationship with someone almost thirty years his junior was…Jesus, he couldn’t even describe how much he despised anyone knowing his private business, especially if they had an opinion about it. And they would…have opinions, that is.
It shouldn’t matter. He knew it shouldn’t matter. He was never letting her go. She would be forever his. They’d made a commitment to each other, for fuck’s sake.
He needed more time to get used to things. Public things. Forgetting his age.
After that last text, time didn’t seem to be on his side. He’d hurt her feelings, and she wasn’t happy, which meant he was fucking furious with himself. He stared ahead, watching the SUV in front of them, ignoring the driver’s two attempts at conversation. He needed to fix this, but they wouldn’t have any private time on the plane.
Hugh leaned his head against the headrest, resisting the urge to slam his skull repeatedly against it. They would work this out. They would always work things out. There was no other course. Rowan was busting his balls because he deserved it, but she’d always known their path would be rocky. His stomach clenched at the coming confrontation. Perhaps he should lighten the mood by bringing up her sketchbook. He barely suppressed amoan as he remembered the turn of each erotic page—the driver had been eyeing him suspiciously and was probably one weird noise away from dumping his ass on the side of the road—but that book…Rowan’s drawings were so lifelike, so detailed, Christ Almighty, he’d even blushed at some of the positions. They would reenact them all.
His untimely sexual fantasies paused as they took the exit ramp toward the private airfield. He texted Bobby before putting his phone away. There was no point in waiting for a text from Rowan.
The driver parked nextto his family. Bre had already exited the front passenger seat, a diaper bag over her shoulder. Bran was helping Raven out, who was holding their son to her chest. She smiled sweetly at Bran, who then kissed his wife.
Patrick climbed out next. Hugh shook his head in wonder. His boys’ similar looks and striking white hair always made him smile. The fact that they were also affectionate, funny, and intelligent…those things spiked his pride. Pat turned to help River down. Before she took the final step, he bent to kiss her stomach, which was quite rounded with their first child. River smiled and kissed her husband when he stood straight.
And then it was Rowan stepping down. Hugh stood there dumbly, suitcases and bags weighing down both arms as he watched the most beautiful woman he’d ever known peek her head out. He inwardly groaned. He should have been there to help her down, to have her smile at him, her dimples giving away her mischievous nature.
He should have given her a kiss. Instead, Patrick helped her down too, making sure she was steady on her legs. She laughed at something his son said before following her sisters to the plane.
She’d wrapped her silky, black hair into a messy bun. Some of the long strands had escaped, draping around her shoulders and chest. She probably put it up for the long flight.
Rowan wore a yellow and white striped summer dress. It had small straps and a full skirt. She reminded him of a vibrant painting come to life. Canvas to blood and bone.
Yellow made her happy. It made him happy seeing her wear it. He wished the yellow diamond ring wasn’t in his bag but on her finger already. He really wished she’d look at him.
She stopped halfway to the plane and turned, searching the lot. For him? Their eyes met and held before she turned back. How in the hell could he fix this?
Raven and River turned at the jet’s stairs, waiting for their sister. They were clearly looking at him, and they weren’t happy. Jesus, he’d swear they were mind readers. He watched helplessly as Raven took one hand while River the other and walked up the stairs hand in hand.
“Jesus, Dad, what did you do now?” Bran swore behind him.
“When one of them is upset, they’re all upset, and I was hoping to talk River into joining the Mile High club this trip,” Patrick joked. “She’ll hover over Row and ignore me now,” he sighed, slapping his dad’s shoulder.
“Seriously, let me help you help yourself,” Bran added.
“Fuck you both,” Hugh groused. “Stay out of my business,” he warned. Used to their father’s bad attitude, they only shrugged.
“I’ll stay out of it as long as it doesn’t affect my wife,” Patrick doubled down.
“Agreed,” seconded Bran.
Traitors. Hugh’s face was burning. Christ, he was unprepared for this level of…sharing…intrusiveness. He was getting more embarrassed and more furious by the moment. Helooked like an old fool chasing a woman way too young for him, which was exactly what he was.
He refused to put up with this bullshit. He was a private man. An older, private man. He didn’t respond. He only stared at them both. His expression must have conveyed his immense displeasure. The boys picked up the remaining suitcases.
“Sorry,” Bran looked so abashed that Hugh almost let him off the hook. Almost.
