Guilty As Sin (Sin Trilogy#2)

“That sounds perfect.” As we walk toward the white tent, I confess. “I totally thought you would pick some Michelin-star restaurant where Cricket wouldn’t know which fork to use and feel awkward. And of course, the food would be gorgeous, but we’d all leave starving.”

He glances down at me. “Is that really what you think about me? Because, if you recall, we did meet in a hole-in-the-wall bar where they pretty much sold just beer and tequila.”

“I figured a lot has changed in the last decade.”

“Some things. Not everything.”

The look he gives me speaks volumes, and I want to ask what else hasn’t changed? But I can’t manage to get it out.

“You went to a lot of trouble tonight,” I say instead.

“You’re worth all this and so much more, Whitney. I won’t stop until I prove it to you.”



“IF I EAT ANOTHER KEBAB, I think I’m going to burst,” Cricket says as she stuffs one last piece of grilled shrimp in her mouth.

The food was incredible, and I’m still glowing from Lincoln’s words when we walked on the beach. Everything he’s done tonight has made me feel valued and cherished. It’s not a feeling I’m used to, but it’s one that I’m going to hold on to for as long as I can.

I stab into one more piece of lobster and pop it into my mouth as the sun paints the sky with swaths of orange, red, and pink. There’s truly nothing I would change about this night. Everything about it has been absolutely wonderful.

I finally push my plate away. “I’m done too. Everything was seriously amazing.”

Lincoln smiles at me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t save room for dessert.”

“Give me ten minutes. I can rally,” Cricket says. “I’ve never said no to dessert.”

Hunter laughs. “That’s a true statement.”

“I think we should have shish kebabs for our wedding reception, babe. I mean, if your mom wouldn’t lose her mind over it, it would be the coolest thing ever.”

Cricket’s fiancé wraps his arm around her. “You can have whatever you want. It’s our wedding. Not hers.”

“The chef at The Gables will make you anything you choose,” Lincoln adds.

“I still can’t thank you enough for letting us have it there for free. Hunter keeps telling me it doesn’t matter that Mom can’t afford to pitch in much, but it was slowly killing me to let him pay for everything.”

Hunter’s face falls as he watches my cousin. “Baby, you know I don’t care.”

Cricket’s shoulders tense. “But I do.” She glances at Lincoln. “I know you’re only doing this for Whitney’s sake, but I want you to know I appreciate it like crazy. If you ever need good weed or a guided hike through the wilderness, I’m your girl.”

My cousin’s offer of marijuana as repayment breaks the growing tension.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Lincoln says with a laugh.

I reach out and lay my hand on Lincoln’s thigh, and he stiffens, glancing down at it. “I appreciate it too. More than you know. Thank you.”

His hand covers mine, and everything about it feels so right.

Hunter rises from the table, holding out his hand to Cricket. “Babe, let’s take a walk and find you that red glass you’ve been looking for before the sun’s completely gone.”

My cousin hops out of her seat. “Yes! I’m not leaving without a red piece.”

They head down in the direction that Lincoln and I walked earlier.

“You heard her,” I tell him. “We’d better find her some red glass, or she’ll literally camp out here until she finds it.”

He helps me out of my chair. “I wish I would’ve thought of camping supplies. Next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

Lincoln lowers our clasped hands until my body presses against his. His lips skim across mine in a perfect kiss. “I’ve got ten years of dates to make up for. I’m just getting started, Blue.”

I could definitely get used to this.





42





LINCOLN





AS THE REMNANTS of the sunset fade, we roast marshmallows over a bonfire and make s’mores, which turns out to be another right choice. It’s simple, easy, and fun, which is exactly how I want to end the night.

Well, this part of it, anyway. When we get back to The Gables, I plan on spending hours making Whitney scream my name as she comes. This is the new beginning we should have had before, and nothing is going to stop me from making it perfect.

When we finally leave the beach, I have exactly one piece of glass. A bright blue one, the same color as Whitney’s eyes. Whitney has a rainbow, and Cricket has Hunter’s pockets bulging—including the red piece that it took all four of us looking for until the sun went down. I wouldn’t have complained if it took all night, though.

Anything for more time with Whitney when she’s smiling and laughing and happy. It’s everything I wanted to give her.

The flight back to The Gables seems much too short, and the familiar cliffs are in sight when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out to read the text.



* * *



MCKINLEY: Mom knows about the Rango estate. She’s on her way to the resort.



* * *



“FUCK.”

Everyone in the helicopter turns to look at me, and I realize I spoke into the headset.

“What’s wrong?” Whitney’s posture stiffens, which pisses me off even more because reality is the last thing I wanted to intrude on our evening.

And now hell is about to be unleashed because my mother has learned that Ricky Rango’s estate is claiming he was my father’s son.

Thank God there’s no way she could know that he might be my father’s only legitimate son . . . I lock that thought away because there’s no way in hell I’m going to share the possibility.

“My mother found out about the paternity claim. We’ve been keeping it from her.”

“Shit,” Cricket whispers. “Only Ricky Rango could fuck things up this effectively from the grave. That takes some serious skill. If he were still alive, I’d kill him myself.”

Cricket isn’t the only one with that thought.

Whitney’s hand squeezes mine, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I wish this wasn’t happening.”

“It’s not your fault. You literally had nothing to do with this at all. My father got my family into this mess.”

As soon as I mention my father, she looks away, and I wish I hadn’t. Because he fucked up all our lives.

We’re all silent as the chopper finally touches down on the rooftop helipad at the resort. I thank the pilot before climbing out and helping Whitney. Hunter and Cricket follow us down the stairs that will take us back to the VIP floor.

As soon as I open the door to exit the stairwell, my mother spots us and marches toward me, a militant glint in her eye.

“We’re gonna go,” Hunter says. “Thank you, man.”

I give him a nod. “Sorry about this.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He and Cricket turn and walk down the hall toward my mother. But she doesn’t spare them a glance as she stalks toward me, fire and fury in her every step.

She points her finger at Whitney. “You put him up to this, you little whore, didn’t you?”

I pull Whitney against my side, wanting to protect her from my mother’s rage. “She didn’t know anything about it.”

My mother’s gaze cuts to mine. “She’s a liar! They’re all liars! Every single one of those Gable whores.”

“Mother—” I attempt to interrupt, but she’s on a roll.

“Why else would she have married that Rango boy? You don’t think I see how this all went down? She knew his dirty secret, and she couldn’t get the Riscoff money through you, so she went after the next best thing. She knew!”

Whitney sputters beside me, but I’m not going to make her defend herself. Not now and never again. I don’t care that the accuser is my own mother.

“That’s where you’re wrong. She could have had every single cent through me, Mother. She didn’t need to marry him to get anything.”

My mother gasps and slaps a hand to her chest, but I know if the revelation about the paternity suit didn’t trigger an episode, this one is bullshit.

“Don’t try to pretend it’s your heart. I’m not falling for it this time.”

Her face screws up into a pissed-off glare. “How dare you say I’m pretending!”