Forever Golden: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 3)

BLUE

So, this is what family looks like.

I scan the yard, looking at maybe fifty or sixty of the triplets’ relatives. The closest thing I’ve experienced to this is the one and only family reunion I ever attended. And with the Riley name attached to it, it’s safe to assume it was a disaster. Long story short, Mike got drunk and fought one of his second cousins over a poker game, which then led to our entire family of five getting booted.

Luckily, this gathering is nothing like that.

All I see are people having fun. There’s good music, lots of laughter, and enough food to feed a moderately sized country. Most are congregating around one of the five bonfires to keep cozy, but fifty-five degrees feels like a heat wave after leaving Cypress Pointe. It warmed up to around seventy this afternoon, and some of that heat stuck around for the evening. Almost like this gathering was meant to be.

From the moment we came down to join the party, West’s great-aunt Sheryl seemed to flock to the girls and me. We claimed a table not too far from a stone fountain, chatting about everything from TV to our plans after college.

Her plug for West and I to have our future wedding here at Landry Manor—her idea, not mine—was less than subtle. Apparently, she considers herself to be intuitive when it comes to love matches, and she got good vibes from Joss and I for her great-nephews, despite Joss insisting her and Dane aren’t a thing. Eventually, she gave up protesting and just listened to Aunt Sheryl go on about how it’s been years since the family’s hosted a wedding here, and how they’re notoriously grand events that are not to be missed. Who knows, maybe she’ll get her wish one day.

A feather-light touch against the side of my neck startles me. What I find when I peer up is West’s emerald stare. It’s warm and relaxed. I swear I love what this place does to him. He’s perfect back home, but in Cypress Pointe, he carries an invisible weight on his shoulders, feeling pressured to live up to an idea of who people think he is. But here? He’s simply Boone Landry’s oldest grandson.

Not a football star.

Not Vin’s son.

Just West, which is more than enough for me.

“Mind if I steal the girls for a few, Aunt Sheryl?”

She beams, hearing West’s polite request. “Of course not. I’ve talked their ears off long enough.”

He offers her a kind smile that she returns.

“Sterling texted that our cousins just pulled up and they’re itching to meet you three,” he explains with a laugh. “Apparently, Grandpa talked you ladies up pretty good.”

Oh, great. Gotta love being under a microscope.

“Dane and Sterling are already down there waiting,” he adds.

I glance toward Aunt Sheryl. “We’ll be back if we can break free,” I joke, starting to feel just a bit guilty for leaving mid-conversation.

She smiles and waves me in West’s direction. “Go have fun, honey. But trust me, those boys won’t let you pretty gals get away once they have you. Which brings me to my next point—keep an eye on your sister.” She laughs, but I don’t.

When Joss and I pass a look toward Scar, her brow lifts and she offers an innocent grin. It’s hard to tell if it’s sincere or not.

“They can’t be that bad,” I say, but the look Aunt Sheryl and West share says otherwise.

“How old are they?” Joss asks.

“All of ‘em range between fifteen and sixteen, but that brood is hell on wheels. Just ask Deputy Sanders,” Aunt Sheryl says with a chuckle. “Poor Boone can’t decide whether to hug ‘em or kill ‘em most days. Lucky for them, he’s got a big heart and the patience of a saint.”

What in the world has West gotten us into?

“We’ll be back in a bit if we can get away,” he promises his aunt, then he offers me his hand when I stand.

He leads us across the wide-open yard to a distant bonfire where, already, the sound of rowdy laughter and loud music fills the air. We get close and I can make out actual voices now. They’re deeper than I expected from a group of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds. You’d never guess they’re so young from hearing them. Or… seeing them.

Seven tall silhouettes circle the fire, two of which I know are Sterling and Dane, but it’s impossible to tell who’s who. One glance toward Scar and I can practically hear the girl’s hormones revving like an engine.

I swear, she’s gonna send me to an early grave.

The raging fire illuminates their features now, and it becomes abundantly clear that good looks aren’t lacking in this family. It’s hard to believe they left anything for the rest of us. On cue, Scar runs her fingers through the length of her dark hair, making sure she looks decent before we get too close.

“What about Shane?” I lean over to whisper.

“Grow up, Blue. Not wanting to look like a dog doesn’t mean I’m trying to get their attention. I’m not interested,” she insists.

Not interested.

Sure.

The moment the group takes notice of us walking up, their lively conversation dies down and everyone’s attention is suddenly on the four of us. Or, more specifically, us girls.

“Well, if it isn’t the man with the golden arm.”

At those words, West turns to meet the gaze of the only blond out of the bunch. He steps up to West, pushing a mane of shoulder-length curls behind his ears.

“Damn, dude! Last time I saw you, you only came up to my elbow. What the hell have you guys been eating?” West asks with a laugh as he turns to introduce us. “Beau, I’d like you to meet my girl Blue, her sister Scarlett, and a friend of the family, Joss.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, shaking Beau’s hand when he offers it.

“Same,” he says politely. “And did I hear right? Your name’s Blue?”

Smiling, I nod. “Yeah. It’s different, I know.”

“Nothing wrong with different,” he shrugs, holding my gaze. “If you get bored at the big house, I just got a new truck. It’d be no trouble to swing by and pick you up. There’s lots to see in Dupont Bayou.”

I’m not quite sure what to say because he’s friendly, yes, but maybe a bit too friendly?

West’s gaze lingers on my hand, which is still in Beau’s because he has yet to release it.

“Ok, so this is the part where you either let go or lose a damn finger,” West warns with a smile. When Beau’s gaze shifts from me to his big cousin, it’s clear he was intentionally trying to get under West’s skin by flirting. Which worked like a charm.

Beau laughs and finally releases me, taking a few steps back just in case West’s threat isn’t quite as empty as he thinks.

“My fingers are my life,” he reasons. “I need ‘em for playing bass and, you know… other things,” he adds, passing a look over me that makes me feel naked, dirty.

“Fuck you,” West growls, lunging toward Beau with a huge grin. He grabs him in a playful chokehold, and I imagine there’s a lot of broken furniture that results from these eight getting together.

Poor Boone.

Without West as a buffer, two more of his prowling cousins stroll over. Twins this time. Looks-wise, they’re identical, but they’re complete opposites in the style department. One’s sporting dark jeans and a button-down rolled to his elbows. He wears glasses that I’m pretty sure make him look a whole heck of a lot more innocent than he actually is. Like all the others, he’s tall and broad across his shoulders, much like the triplets. His brother opted for a much more casual look tonight—Adidas track pants and a black hoodie. Both looks are trendy, but they’re as different as night and day.

“You two must be River and Stoney, right?”

They nod. “In the flesh,” the casual one says just before introducing himself. “Stoney.”

“River,” the one in glasses adds.

Before more can be said, Dane walks up and interrupts, draping an arm around both twins’ shoulders. “Nice outfits, guys.”

Stoney nods and thanks Dane, but River stares up at the sky, like he hasn’t even heard a thing that was said.

“I see you two are still stealing shit.” When Dane finishes speaking, he tears off the price tag dangling from Stoney’s sleeve.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, turning red as a stop sign.

“You assholes are fucking loaded,” Dane points out. “Anything your parents don’t buy you, Grandpa does. Mind telling me why you still think it’s okay for your happy asses to weigh twice as much when you leave the mall than you did when you went in?”

The twins glance at each other and I don’t miss the wicked grins curving their lips.

“Because… we’re fucking good at it?” River proposes with a shrug.

Frustrated, Dane snatches the glasses off River’s face before he can stop him, then proceeds to stomp them into the dirt.

“What the fuck, dude?” River protests, clearly pissed, but also seeming to understand that Dane could kick his ass if he wanted to.

“And what ditz told you you look smart wearing glasses you don’t even fucking need? No one does that,” Dane concludes, walking away after effectively calling the pair out.

It probably goes without saying, but they scatter now that Dane’s thoroughly ripped them both new assholes. But from what I just heard, they needed it. Sterling walks the fourth cousin over and he’s the first that seems even remotely quiet. Not shy, and definitely not innocent, maybe just careful with his words.

“Ladies, this is Keaton.”

We’re offered a half wave, but Keaton’s obviously high off his ass right now. Kid probably doesn’t even know what day it is.

I wave back and so do Joss and Scar, but when he rubs his hand down the scruff on his chin, that’s when I notice his knuckles. They’re bruised like he’s been in a fight recently. I should know. I’ve had bruises just like that on more than one occasion.

Or, you know, maybe he punched a mirror or wall like some other dumb-ass I know.

I can now safely assume that this somber, quiet version of him is simply the result of whatever he’s been smoking.

“West tell you these guys are in a band?” Sterling asks.

“No, this is the first I’ve heard. That’s pretty cool. What do you play, Keaton?” I ask, not even sure the guy’s coherent.

“Drums.”

I stare, waiting for him to elaborate, but nothing.

Okay. Good talk.

Shaking his head, Sterling gives up trying to pull conversation from him and walks away. At which point Keaton stumbles back to the lawn chair Sterling plucked him out of and stares at the stars.

I laugh a little to myself. He must’ve sprung for the strong stuff, because I swear this kid is no longer in this world.

Posted against the trunk of a nearby tree, another of the boys peers up and his fingers go motionless on his guitar. The final, lingering note of the riff he just played dissipates into the night and it’s suddenly silent.

He’s got that stormy look in his eyes that I often get from West, but instead of the heartbreaker greens I’m used to seeing, his are dark. Like staring down a well in the middle of the night. His skin looks sun-kissed, which I can easily see even with the dim light of the bonfire, but that doesn’t make much sense. It’s the dead of winter, so I can only assume this smooth, bronzy tone is natural for him.

Curtains of nearly jet-black hair stretch to his torso, covering most of his face, but I see enough to know he’s laser focused, honed in on a target.

My sister.

The twins are standing at either side of him now and he leans left to speak to River, but his eyes never leave Scar. As I watch him through the flames, it isn’t lost on me that this moment is so familiar. Then it hits me—the many parallels to the night in Bellvue when I first spotted West.

The one with the physical makeup of a certified heartbreaker is walking toward us now. He’s confident beyond his years, like he’s lived more life than he has, but it doesn’t fade even a little as he draws closer.

I glance over at Scar and she’s mesmerized, gawking as the length of his hair moves with the breeze. Short of being rude and stepping directly between these two, there’s not a damn thing I can do about what’s getting ready to happen. It might seem silly to not even want these two to meet, but I know for a fact that my sister has a type—tall, bronzed skin, dark hair. And add to it that he seems to possess that ability to control a room with his presence, just like the Golden boys.

“Hey,” he says.

Scar smiles a little. “Hi.”

His gaze roams from Scar’s eyes, down to where the black zip-up she borrowed from Joss shows a bit of her chest, then lower where skin-tight jeans hug her hips.

While he checks her out, I picture his eyes bugging and his tongue rolling out his mouth like I’ve seen on cartoons.

“I’m Linden.”

“Scarlett.”

He nods, finally remembering she has eyes. “How long are you here for?”

“About a week.”

He nods again, like he’s plotting against her, thinking of all the ways he can defile her before we leave.

“Cool. Maybe we’ll get to hang out between now and then. You into music?”

Scar’s smile broadens. “Depends.”

He’s grinning now, too, but it’s reserved. Like he’s too cool for excitement and shit.

“Well, if you’re not too busy, I’d love for you to come hear us play. We’ve got our second gig Thursday night.”

“Oh yeah? Do you sing at all?”

He nods, pretending to be humble, but I see it all over his face. Kid thinks he’s the shit.

“I sing lead, actually.”

“Ah, that explains the voice.”

Scar’s statement has him cocking his head. “Meaning?”

Scar shrugs. “It’s raspy and kind of strong, I guess. I don’t know, it’s just… different. In a good way,” she adds.

He’s eating this up. That slick grin on his face makes that crystal clear.

“So, do you think you’ll come check us out?”

Scar makes a big show of considering his offer. “I would, but… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

“Kind of?” he repeats. “Doesn’t really count if you’re not sure.”

Scar smiles politely but stands her ground. “I’m only confused about our status, not my feelings for him,” she explains. “But I do appreciate the invitation.”

With that answer, Scar walks off, having surprised me and Linden both with that response, followed by the prompt exit that forces him to end this play he’s made for her attention. He’s a little wounded by the well-played rejection, but he is far from defeated. In fact, he’s still watching her, smirking as she walks away, like he knows something she doesn’t.

God, please don’t let him be as persistent as West. If he is, the fact that she isn’t giving in to him will only make him want her more. At this point, my only solace is that there are several states between them.

Apparently, Joss and I are finally worthy of Linden’s attention, because he suddenly seems to notice that we exist. He puts on an innocent smile as he shoves both hands inside his pockets.

“Nice to meet you both,” he croons.

Scar’s right about that voice. Pretty sure he’s tried to sing the panties off half the girls in this town. Hell, maybe all of them.

I smile but see right through him. “Nice to meet you,” I force out.

Not even five seconds have passed and he’s glancing over his shoulder again, to where Scar’s now posted beside Sterling, chatting while they watch the flames.

Joss and I share a look that suggests this guy’s left the same impression on us both.

He’s trouble.

West is finally on his way back, and when he pulls me into his side, he seems to take notice of where Linden’s sights are set.

“Something over there got your attention?” West asks, prompting Linden’s head to whip back toward us.

He doesn’t answer, but then a menacing smile tugs at one side of his lips.

“Nope. Don’t even fucking think about it,” West warns, at which point Linden chuffs a short laugh, and then slowly trudges back to his post. He strums a few chords on his guitar like before, but his eyes never leave Scar.

Never.

“Relax. I’ll keep an eye on him,” West says close to my ear.

Dane comes to claim Joss, convincing her to join him near the fire. Now, it’s just West and me.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Exhausted.”

Thinking about how little sleep I’m running on, that was the easiest question I’ve answered all day.

“I figured, which is why I was thinking.”

When he leans in to make sure no one hears but me, I’m admittedly intrigued where this is going.

“When all this is over and everyone leaves, you should meet me somewhere.”

A laugh slips out. “This is your cure to my exhaustion?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugs, “but if you agree to it, I promise to make it worth your while.”

This proposal has me thinking I can probably make it a bit longer without rest. I mean, it isn’t like I can’t sleep in tomorrow, right?

I only hesitate for half a second before asking, “When and where?”

He smirks, knowing he has me on the hook.

“Just keep your phone close. I’ll let you know.”