Chapter Eleven

Stephanie made it back to her suite without crossing paths with Ruby or any of the other staff, and slept the better part of morning away. And rather than hit the dining room for a late breakfast, she brewed a small pot of coffee in her room and sipped it in the deafening silence. But mornings like this were better dealt with alone, with no one there to say, “I told you so.”

Showered, bored, and more than a little stir crazy an hour later, Stephanie tugged on her sandals. It was too gorgeous a day to sit inside, and too frustrating to sit that close to Miles.

Dang it—why had she gone and let her guard down?

She knew some fresh air would do her good, though. Help her to push her failings with the opposite sex aside long enough to start working on a checklist of things needing done before she moved back home. Because whether or not she took this job, Stephanie was done with Florida. So with pen and paper in hand, she snuck out the side door to avoid Miles’s office, then slithered past the pool area and headed toward the old pond. Only today she planned to trade her spot on the dock with her second favorite place on the Masterson property— the giant old tree just back from the pond.

Stephanie had always loved it there, especially with her feet dangling from one of its wide, low branches. She had no idea what kind of tree it was. Maple? Oak? Didn’t matter. It’d always been a great place to escape to when she needed to get away from her over-estrogened childhood home, or if the boys weren’t around and she needed to reflect on some act of stupidity.

Like the act she’d pulled last night, letting Miles talk her into going out and grabbing some wings and drinks.

But not on a date. Oh, no. Probably for the best they didn’t call it that.

Her blood began to boil again. Why was it so hard to believe that she knew what she was doing? Stephanie dropped her pen and paper beside the tree and stalked to the water’s edge. She kicked off both sandals and felt her toes sink into the cool sand that ringed the pond. Unfortunately, it did little to cool her temper as tears of anger stung her eyes.

“Stupid man,” she growled.

Through her watery gaze she spied a skipping stone nearby. With a lurch she snatched it up from the ground and brushed it off.

“Stupider me.”

Stephanie snapped her wrist and sent the rock sailing. It skimmed the water’s smooth surface, skipping four times before sinking to its final destination.

“Nice throw.”

She spun around to find Brent walking toward her, tool belt on, wooden board under one arm and a bucket full of tools in his grip. Stephanie briefly turned her back to him long enough to swipe a hand beneath each eye. Damn the Masterson boys and their horrible timing. “Thanks.”

“And for the record, I don’t know that stupider is really a word.”

She snorted. “It is if we’re talking about men.”

“I resemble that remark.”

“No, you don’t.” Not Brent, he’d always been the levelheaded one. How many times had he talked her and Miles out of some crazy plan when they were kids? Her gaze drifted to where the rock had disappeared. Ripples of displaced water were fading back to their smooth state. “Your cousin, on the other hand…”

“Ah. Well, then. By all means, stupider it is.”

She cracked a grin. “What, you’re not going to defend him? Puff your chest out and give me some, ‘All for one and one for all’ BS?”

“Sorry, have you met Miles?”

“Yeah. One time too many.”

“Want me to take care of him for you?”

Brent set his things down and fished a crowbar from his bucket-o-tools. Stephanie eyed the weapon in his hands and took a step back, shaking her head. Sure, the guys got into all sorts of scuffles as kids, but iron bars? What exactly had she missed since she’d been gone?

“Wow. I really appreciate the offer and all, but I don’t think that kind of violence is entirely necessary.”

He laughed and grabbed a cordless drill next. “Oh, I wasn’t going to use this. Wouldn’t do me much good on him, anyway. Miles got picked on enough as a kid that he learned to run. Really, really fast. You ever try and race the guy?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Not in about a million years…

“Yeah, not an easy task. No, there are other ways to get even with Miles. Violence doesn’t work. You want to get under his skin, you gotta mess with what’s inside that noggin of his.”

“Now, that’s love for ya.” She grinned. “Giving up trade secrets to the enemy…”

Brent walked toward the pier, tools in hand. “Oh, there’s love here. It’s just that us caveman types show it a little differently than you girls do. And you’ve never been the enemy, so you can stop right there. So what happened, anyway? Things not go well last night?” He looked back at her, his face suddenly serious. “If he did something stupid—”

“No, he didn’t.”

She rubbed one hand up and down the opposite arm, debating how much to tell Brent. Stephanie wasn’t usually one to kiss and tell. Then again, it felt like it’d been about a hundred years since she was single and had reason to. Besides, if anyone knew how Miles’s brain worked, it was his cousin.

“We, or rather I, drank too much, I guess. Things headed in that direction, were going great, actually, and then.”

Brent bent to loosen a few screws, then wedged the crowbar between two boards, one much more worse for wear than the other. “And then?”

“I sort of…fell asleep. At about the worst possible time.”

“Ooooh.” He grimaced. “Nothing deflates a man’s ego like his date falling asleep on him.”

“I know,” she cried, and plunged both hands into her hair. “I didn’t mean to. When I woke up and realized what had happened, it was morning, and he was already in the shower. I thought maybe we could, you know, try again, but he came out all cool and disconnected, telling me how it was probably best we didn’t.”

Brent gave the loosened board a solid jerk and freed it from the underlying framework. “And you disagree?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I wanted what was happening to happen?”

“Maybe because you never showed him any interest before.”

“What?” She stared at him in disbelief. Were all men clueless, or was it just something that ran in their family?

Brent walked back toward his supplies, tossed the rotten board aside, and picked up the new one he’d brought along. “You heard me.”

“Brent, half the town knew I had a thing for him back in the day! After a few semesters at Central Michigan of Miles not showing any interest in me, though, I gave up. Then Liam came along, and, well, you know the rest of that story.”

The image of the televised kiss drifted to mind. She clamped her eyes shut, trying to force it aside.

“Honestly? I don’t think Miles even realized his feelings for you until college. You showed up on campus looking nothing like the tomboy we’d grown up with, and suddenly he didn’t know which way was up. By the time he figured it out, Liam had stepped into the picture. And for the one and only time in his life, Miles chose to the do right thing and not let his di—uh, desires get the best of him.”

Miles had feelings for me?

Stephanie watched Brent scoop up a handful of screws then head back to the pier, his stride slow and easy. How could the man throw this news blast out there so casually? Like it wasn’t the mind-blowing revelation that it truly was? He knelt on the pier, clearly oblivious to her current state of shock, and set about affixing the new board to it.

“I-I never knew.”

“He didn’t want you to. In fact, he’d be mortified to know I just let the cat out of the bag.” Brent cast her an ominous look. “Which you aren’t going to tell him I did, by the way.”

“No, of course not.”

She moped her way over to a picnic table near the pond’s small beach and dropped onto its wooden bench. How could she have been so blind? Sure, it’d taken until after high school graduation for her to realize her own feelings. But when she’d tried to act on it in college, nothing seemed to work. Playing hard to get, outright flirting, ignoring him. He was fine in their classes together, but the minute they stepped outside, he was hurrying off. Like he couldn’t wait to chase after the next eligible female on his endless list.

Then again, any time she’d needed him, he’d been there. Panic attack over an upcoming exam? He was on his way to help her study. Pre-game soccer jitters? He was walking her to the locker rooms, joking around to distract her. He’d been her hero more times than she probably realized, yet romance had never been part of the equation.

Their last time together at this pond, before she’d left town with Liam, Miles had said he’d fallen for someone, hard, and didn’t know what to do about it. Said it scared him to death, and he was so worried that admitting his feelings would drive that someone away. It’d killed her to hear him say that, but knew it wasn’t fair to be talking marriage with Liam and insist Miles stay single. So she’d encouraged him to take a chance, to jump in feet first and not look back. But instead of sticking around to see how it turned out for him, she’d left town in a hurry. Avoided the finality of seeing her first love choosing someone else.

Had that someone been her all along?

A sour feeling settled in the pit of her stomach at the possibility. Had she really been so close to having everything she’d wanted?

“All this time, and I didn’t have a clue.”

Now who’s the stupider one?

“Well, now you do.”

She shook her head. “It’s too late, Brent. I’m…” Damaged goods.

Brent straightened from his work, now finished, and walked over to return his tools to the bucket. “Whatever it is you were going to say, don’t. Being negative never helped anyone out of their situation. I should know.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He picked up his things and came to stand before her. “Trust me—life’s too short to sit around constructing imaginary walls around your heart. If life feels like it’s leading you in a new direction, take it. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe it won’t. One thing you’ll know for sure—you won’t be left with the regret of not knowing because you were too scared to try.

“And I don’t know what the right answer is for you. Sorry, but I don’t. What I do know is that in all the years I’ve known Miles—which is all of them—he never got hung up on a woman until you, and never got hung up on another after you.”

Stephanie rubbed her temples. It was one thing to say Miles had liked her more than she knew back in college, but this? This was a massive bomb Brent was dropping on her.

“I always got the feeling that he never asked you out because he was afraid to,” said Brent. “Not because of Liam.”

“Afraid?” Oh yes, her head was spinning with information overload now, this additional tidbit just as confusing as the rest. Because Miles didn’t shy away from anything—especially women. “But why?”

“Only one person knows that answer.”

She looked past Brent toward the inn, toward Miles’s house. Did she want to know the answer? Or maybe a better question was, did she have the courage to even ask? “What makes you so sure he’d open up about all this?”

“I’m not. Though, from what Kayla and Ruby tell me, the surefire way to coax him into admitting anything lies in offering him some Italian food and maybe a nice bottle of chardonnay. Hell, you could even use his kitchen to prepare it if you want. Garage code is the inn’s address.”

“You’re…giving me his code?”

Brent shrugged. “Miles helped me dig out of my dark place. It’s the least I can do to help him dig out of his.”

“But he’s not in a dark place,” she said. I am.

“Oh, he is. He just doesn’t like to admit it.”

Brent headed for the trail leading back toward the inn without another word, like a cargo plane that’d dropped humanitarian supplies in the midst of a natural disaster and then steered for home. But instead of supplies he’d left her with secrets, a glimpse into Miles’s private thoughts and desires.

It’d be easy enough to pretend her conversation with Brent had never happened, to just walk away. But to where would she go? Home, so she could go back to sitting inside, hiding from the world again?

No. She was tired of hiding, tired of her life being put on hold while the media blitz died down. It was time to choose her own path, to go back to being the old Stephanie. To take risks and worry later.

To live.

She just didn’t know if she had the strength to put herself out there and follow Brent’s advice.

She drew in a deep breath and shifted her gaze to the pond, the early afternoon sun glistening upon its mirror-like surface.

Only one way to find out…

…

Miles stood in the hallway outside his office, torn. To his left was the dining room, the lobby, and his grandmother’s office; to his right, Stephanie’s door. Just past that was the side exit—an easy escape, though it would do nothing to ease the conflict that’d been brewing inside him all day knowing he’d blown it with the one woman he’d tried so hard not to hurt all these years. Not to lead her on, not to interrupt the dream life she seemed destined to lead.

The dream life that this spring had bitten her in that perfect ass of hers. Hard.

“Late day for you, dear.” Ruby shuffled down the hall and came to stand beside him, concern tugging her brows low. “You look tired, Miles. Troubles with billing again?”

His gaze shifted from Stephanie’s door. “Uh, no. Just…got a lot on my mind is all. Nothing a little food can’t cure.”

He forced a smile to follow the lie. Food would do nothing to improve his mood or his situation. With Stephanie mad at him and a week of job interview limbo ahead of him, at this point nothing would.

“Land’s alive, you have listened to what I’ve been telling you boys after all. Come on, then. Maddie’s made her famous BBQ chicken. You can sit with us.”

“I appreciate the offer, Ruby, but I think it’s going to be an early to dinner, early to bed kind of night for me. I’ve got a wicked headache coming on.”

Again another lie. But after he’d bitten Maddie’s head off this morning over the rising cost of produce—something she truly had no control over—he doubted she’d be happy to share a table with him at dinner, let alone a plateful of her amazing BBQ. Kayla was right. He’d let his temper get the best of him. Though, if either of them had any idea how much pent-up sexual frustration he’d walked in with this morning, they likely would have avoided his office altogether.

God, he’d come so close to finally making it with the woman of his dreams. She’d been in his bed, for crying out loud. His bed!

Miles knew when she fell asleep beneath him that he’d never be able to see another snake bite for as long as he lived without getting pissed off. But he wasn’t mad at Stephanie; how could he be? He was the one who kept feeding her the drinks, kept trying to get her to relax, to let loose and be her old self again. The Stephanie he’d always loved but never had the courage to admit it. Not to another living soul, least of all himself.

He resisted the urge to sneak another look toward Stephanie’s room. She probably wasn’t there, anyway. Too quiet next door, not that he’d spent all afternoon listening for her. Except that he had.

“Must be the change in weather. Chance of storms all week.” Ruby stretched out to place her soft, wrinkled palm against his cheek. “Call if you need anything, dear.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

She made her way back toward the dining room, leaving Miles to his thoughts. Again he felt the urge to look toward Stephanie’s door. Again he resisted. Best if he just got her out of his head already, got all of them out of his head. Maybe he should take the rest of the week off, drive down to Columbus and start apartment hunting.

With a sigh he headed away from Stephanie’s door and toward the back exit, trying to ignore the whispers of “coward” echoing through his mind. Avoiding her was for the best. Not sleeping with her was for the best.

Getting out of town and on with his life was for the best.

Five minutes later he turned his Camaro onto the long winding drive that led him home. He’d miss his house and the quiet piece of land he’d been gifted as part of his inheritance. Though, with the deed had also come unspoken responsibilities related to his grandmother and the inn. At the time, it hadn’t bothered him. But the grand illusion of working in their laid-back family setting had quickly faded. Miles wanted more, needed more. Surely, Ruby would understand.

His house came into view, and Miles hit the brakes. The garage door was wide open, though he knew it’d been down this morning when he left.

“Crap.”

Miles killed the engine, slid out of the car, and closed the door as quietly behind him as possible. The woods were silent, save for some kind of noise coming from the house. He crept closer, slowly making his way into the garage. The sound was louder now, a thumping noise. He took a baseball bat from the far corner of the garage and inched closer to the door leading inside. Closer. Turned the knob, gave it a small nudge forward, and was instantly greeted by two things—a woman’s off-pitch singing, and the smell of fresh garlic.

He shoved the door open. “What’s going on here?”

Stephanie whirled around, eyes wide and hand to her chest. “Miles, you scared the bejeezus out of me!”

“I scared the bejeezus out of you?” Miles took a deep breath, resisting the urge to strangle her as she reached to turn the volume down on her iPhone. “What are you doing here?”

“Paint by number?” She picked up one of his wooden spoons and waved it in the air, then took in his dark look and rolled her eyes. “Cooking dinner, what does it look like?”

“First you can’t wait to get out of here, now you can’t wait to get back in.” He set the bat down. “How did you get in, anyway?”

“Let’s just say a little birdie gave me the code.”

Kayla. He knew she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. “Me and that little birdie are going to have words tonight.”

“Sorry, but you’ll have to have words with him tomorrow—you’re staying in tonight.”

Him? Brent? “Oh, I am, am I?”

“Yes.” Stephanie bent to tug the oven door open and peer inside. “Now go wash up, dinner’s nearly ready.”

His body reacted to the view of her posture faster than his brain to her words. It took a giant effort to pull his gaze away and try to form a coherent sentence.

“Dinner? Steph, you stormed out of here this morning, absolutely furious with me.” He cast a nervous glance at the dirtied dishes in the sink. “How do I know this isn’t some crazy act of revenge where you try to poison me or something?”

“You should know better—I flunked chemistry both times I took it, remember? No poisoning attempts, I promise. More like penance for the way I behaved earlier.” She winked at him, then gave him a gentle shove. The contact drove away his anger and ignited another emotion, one he’d been fighting with since she’d self-invited herself here last night—desire. “Now go on, wash up. I’ll have dinner ready in no time.”

Reluctantly he left the kitchen, but not without a long, slow glance back as she bent lower to open the oven door and retrieved a bubbling casserole dish from within. The smell of garlic intensified, and Miles’s stomach rumbled in response. Stephanie turned around, a broad grin stretching across her face at the sound, and suddenly all he could think about was how badly he wanted to meet her lips with his own.

“If you don’t go wash up,” she said without looking his way. “I’ll withhold dessert.”

“Oh? What’s for dessert?”

She met his gaze with one brow arched. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Hell, yeah I would. Miles headed to the master bath, washed his hands, and splashed some cold water on his face. Then he toweled off and cast a scolding look at his reflection. He shouldn’t want to know what was for dessert—it’d only lead to trouble. They’d avoided as much this morning. Why go back and try to change things now?

And why was she really here?

“Miles?”

“Yeah, be right there.”

He put his face in the towel, then took a deep breath and held it. Maybe he was reading her wrong, his libido jumping to irrational conclusions. Friends, they’d always been just friends. It was safer that way for the both of them. No heartbreaks, no strings, just friendship.

It’d have to be enough.

With a sigh he tossed the towel onto the counter and headed back to the kitchen.

“There you are.” Stephanie carefully spooned out a few sauce-covered noodles from her prepared dish then raised them toward her lips to blow on them. “Come try this.”

Miles stopped several feet away and swallowed hard.

Friends, just friends.

But the way she was blowing on his food, her glossy pink lips extended into a perfect O, he couldn’t help but yearn to feel those perfect lips pressed to his again.

“What?” She swiped her free hand under her nose. “Do I have something on me?”

He blinked, forced his attention from her lips to the steaming spoonful of pasta. “Uh, no. What is that?”

“Baked ziti, Rebecka and Joe style. Here.” She closed the distance between them and thrust the spoon toward him, leaving no time for him to turn her down.

Confidence and attitude—the two personality traits of hers Miles loved the most. Unlike Friday, tonight she was back to wearing them like a second skin. And damn if that combination didn’t turn him on.

“Come on, open up.”

He did as she commanded to keep her from ramming the spoon straight through his teeth. A rich, tangy sauce met his tongue…

…and proceeded to set it on fire. Miles chewed, then chewed faster and tried to swallow it down before the urge to spit it out became too great.

“Well?”

“It’s…great.” And it probably was, for people who regularly snacked on ghost peppers. The flavor was terrific, just way, way too hot. His eyes began to water, and he felt a fine bead of sweat break out along his hairline. He finally managed to swallow and felt the fire leave a scorching trail down his esophagus.

“Water,” he croaked, gripping the countertop for support as his insides tried to spontaneously combust.

“Shoot. Too spicy?” She scrambled for a glass, opening every wrong cabinet door before finding where they were kept. Tears streamed from Miles’s eyes as she filled one from the tap. “Sorry, I must have overdone it with the peppers again. Not the first time I flip-flopped the amounts and ingredients. It’s not easy, you know, trying to whip this up from memory alone.”

Easy would have been a whole lot safer.

Miles yanked the offered glass from her hands and chugged the water down. It did little to dull the pain. Empty, he thrust the glass back toward her, since she remained at the sink, blocking his way. “I knew you were trying to poison me. ’S why you had me try it first.”

“I swear I’m not. And I did try it earlier, but it didn’t seem that hot. Maybe you just got a bite with a high concentration of peppers.” She handed him the refilled glass. “I could get you another bite, see if that one’s any better?”

He shook his head, and water sloshed out of the glass and down his chin. The woman was certifiable if she thought he’d agree to that. Miles finished his drink, the fire finally beginning to subside, and swiped a hand across his chin.

“No. I really appreciate it, but I think the next bite should be taken by the cook.”

“Why?” Her right brow rose as she crossed both arms just under her chest. “You chicken?”

Something inside Miles snapped. Like some ornery little kid in an elevator who’d just lit up floors L through fifty, in less than five minutes she’d managed to push every one of his buttons—invaded his space, tried to kill him, wore an outfit far too sexy to be legal while in his kitchen cooking, and now an all-out taunt.

If you’re gonna play with fire…

Miles lunged forward, aimed low, and had Stephanie up and over his shoulder in two seconds flat. She shrieked, the sound transforming from fearful to playful in a single breath, and kicked her feet out.

“Put me down!”

“Oh, I’ll put you down, all right.”

He enjoyed the view of her butt, full and perfect and easily within biting distance, as he carried her from the kitchen. She kicked and wiggled in his grasp, making his progress anything but easy. Classic Stephanie—she’d always been anything but easy…until last night. Her returning tonight had re-opened that door, and his libido refused to stand back and watch it swing shut a second time. Logic and reason stepped aside and bowed their heads in defeat. Kayla would have been proud.

“Miles, I’m serious!” She pounded both fists against the seat of his pants. “You’re gonna drop me!”

He maneuvered her through the doorway into his bedroom and dumped her onto the bed. As she fell, he followed, pinning her body beneath him. The breath wooshed from her lungs, and he claimed her lips with his before she could tell him no. Before he missed his second—and possibly only—chance.

But Stephanie didn’t push him away, didn’t squirm beneath him. Instead her hands ran up into the back of his hair. God, she felt amazing beneath him—lean, toned muscle wrapped in mouthwatering curves. Miles deepened the kiss, and she readily complied, her hands pulling him closer, her body arching into his.

Out of breath, he pulled back and in one smooth motion tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the side. Stephanie lay before him, her beautiful caramel hair mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her hazel eyes full of desire. She scanned his naked torso, and damn if she didn’t lick her lips.

He slid both hands under the hem of her shirt, savoring the silky feel of her skin beneath his. She arched into his touch.

“God, it’s been so long,” she breathed.

The admission spurred him on, made him want to make her feel wanted again. Needed. She’d always been those things to him. Always.

“Please, Miles. Don’t push me away again and tell me it’s for the best.”

His gaze shifted from hers to the perfect body in his arms. “Oh, no. I never make the same mistake twice.” Then he kissed her again.