Chapter Five

Miles could have walked down his drive and across the street for the Checkerberry’s traditional summer outdoor church service Sunday morning, if he’d still been at home. But between guilt over his decision to send in his application, and his inability to get Steph out of his mind, he’d had some pretty messed-up dreams. The last of which had involved her under him, eyes sultry, hair mussed, skin glistening with sweat—and crying out Liam’s name.

That’s when Miles woke with a start. If anything could kill the moment, it was the woman of your dreams calling out someone else’s name in bed. Miles had lain there for several minutes, heart racing and mad as hell. Like it wasn’t bad enough that she was staying at his family’s inn, just as untouchable as before?

After tossing and turning for the next hour, trying without success to get Steph out of his mind, he gave up on sleep and headed for the shower. For a nice, long cold shower.

And damn, if she didn’t haunt his thoughts there, too.

So he’d headed into town to the one place open at four in the morning—Soaring Eagle Casino. The familiar ching ching ching of perpetual mini-payouts at the wall-to-wall slot machines in the front room greeted him like an old friend. Miles came once every few months and more often than not walked out with more in his pocket than he’d come in with. He’d read the books on strategy, knew which table games has the best winning percentages and which had the worst, because he thrived on analytics—it was the way he was wired.

But right then, he needed a simple game, something that required little thinking and minimal strategy.

With fifty dollars in chips he made his way toward the blackjack tables and sized them up to see if one called to him more than another. After a moment he approached one with a tall, stocky blond female dealer. She was a bit too masculine and heavy-handed with makeup for his taste, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help save him from his unwanted thoughts.

“You look a bit lonely over here,” he said with a wink and a smile. “What, not dealing enough winners today?”

Her polite smile broadened into something much more genuine. “Maybe, maybe not. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll try to make you a winner, no?”

He took a seat, slid a few chips into the betting area, and glanced at her name tag. Katarina. Judging by the build and her slight accent, he’d guess she was from somewhere overseas. Germany? Russia?

“Good luck to you, sir.”

“Thank you, Katarina. I could use some luck right about now.”

A few more smiles, an innocently paid compliment or two, and she was putty in his hands. This was how Miles was used to women reacting to his come-ons. Shy, giggly, flattered. He never took advantage of anyone, never lied to them, just made them feel special. Desired. Because deep down, didn’t everyone want to feel that way?

Usually, like today’s broad-framed card dealer, they ate the attention up. But not Stephanie. Never Stephanie. She’d always been more like one of the guys. Until college, that is. Suddenly she’d gone from tomboy to all grown up, gorgeous, and definitely not one of the guys anymore. And Miles hadn’t been the only one to notice.

“Seventeen. Dealer has eighteen. Bust.”

Bust was right. Liam got the girl, and Miles got, well, dozens just like the blackjack dealer. Oh, sure, she was sweet enough, and he did his best to listen politely as she told him about her homeland overseas, of her dream of coming to America and going to the university. But like so many other women he’d dated, there was no pull there, nothing that called to him on a level more than skin deep.

Stephanie had been one of the very few to do that. If there was a prize to be won, they fought for it. A debate to be had, they dove in. No topic was too taboo, no feelings were tiptoed around. And when they weren’t competing or pontificating, they were sitting back-to-back or shoulder-to-shoulder in amicable silence. If one of them was down, the other lifted them up without hesitation. That’s what best friends do.

But he’d missed his chance with her long ago, had played his cards too slow, been too worried about ruining their friendship. And once Liam had staked his claim on her, Miles hadn’t fought it. He pretended nothing had changed, that no opportunity had been lost because there hadn’t been one there to begin with. Stephanie had acted the same way.

A middle-aged couple walked by, the wife nagging in low tones while the husband looked straight ahead, doing his best to ignore her, and it was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on Miles. The couple could just as easily have been his parents. Two individuals who’d pledged ‘til death do they part and then did their damnedest to make each and every day as miserable as possible in the hopes that the other would get fed up and leave. In his parents’ case, both were too stubborn to admit defeat, which led to year after year of disappointed sighs, heated arguments, and oftentimes frustration-fueled silent treatments.

The kind of future he never wanted for himself, or to burden anyone else with, either. “Dealer has blackjack.” The stocky blond swept his cards and chips toward her with an apologetic smile.

“Wow, Katarina. This table’s sure gone cold.”

“Sorry, Mr. Miles. I was really pulling for you that hand.”

Miles shook his head, reached to push a few more chips forward…and found his stack gone. A quick glance at his cell showed it to be six o’clock, which left him just enough time to grab a newspaper and quick bite to eat before church. He stood, stretched, and pulled a ten from his wallet.

“For the lady, who has been such wonderful company this fine morning.” He handed her the bill, gave her a small bow, and turned to go.

“Thank you, sweetie. Have a blessed Sunday. And I do hope you’re able to get that woman off your mind.”

“Woman?” Miles turned back to face Katarina. “I didn’t say anything about a woman.”

She smiled. “Only two reasons a handsome fellow like yourself wanders in here this time of day—to escape their wife, or escape from life. No ring on your finger, so I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

She leaned in closer, one eyebrow lifted. “My advice to you? Whatever it is you’re running from? Why not sit back and let the cards fall where they may?”

Miles offered her another wink and headed for the door. Katarina’s suggestion might have been a good one…for anyone but him. With a new job and relocation on the horizon, it was time to shuffle the cards, not up the ante for one last hand.

Stephanie had hoped to sleep in Sunday and spend most of the day hiding from the world under her suite’s amazingly soft Egyptian cotton covers. And the bed? Pure heaven. But a noise outside woke her at seven, and from then on she was wide-awake.

It didn’t help that someone sounded like they were sawing logs in the room above her, which reminded her of her snoring ex. Over time, she’d learned to tune it out. When he was home, anyway. Which, come to think of it, had been less and less these past few years.

Stupid her.

Stupid televised kiss.

Stupid men.

And now, thanks to her devious but well-meaning little sister, Stephanie either had to hunt down Miles and pray he’d be willing to play the part of fake fiancé for her on Monday afternoon, or go back to scanning the classifieds day and night. The ache in her chest threatened to return just thinking about it.

With a sigh she crawled out of bed to freshen up. The image of him from Friday teased her memories as she traded her silk pajamas for a V-neck tank top and denim shorts. His warm, brown eyes, that stubble on his chin. The more Stephanie thought about him, the more she began wondering if she was more worried he’d say yes…

She pulled her hair into a messy bun, grabbed her sunglasses, and headed for the door. If there was one place on these grounds that was sure to clear her head, it was the old pond. She’d snuck over from their neighboring yard many a time as a kid to escape from her prim and overbearing mother, the sounds of nature always able to soothe her frayed nerves. Especially the song of the bullfrogs, which was the opposite of prim. Even now, the rationalization brought a smile to her face.

Stephanie cracked the door to her suite open and peered down the hall. No one in sight.

I can do this. I can totally do this.

She took a deep breath, slid her sunglasses into place, then hurried out of the room and down the hall, angling for the back door. If she could just reach the woods without drawing any attention, she’d be set. Other guests might be out on the inn’s trails leading to the old pond, but Stephanie knew of dozens more. Trails not on any map or tour but carved from the woody underbrush by local kids.

Kids who’d been the best of friends.

A few steps more and she was outside, still alone. She paused to savor the sun’s warmth, chasing the A/C-induced chill from her skin. Ah, the summer sun. Even this early in the day, late June sunshine in Michigan made it feel a lot like Florida but without the smothering humidity. Or geckos. Lord, she’d never gotten used to stepping outside and seeing those little wiggly creatures crawling up the walls outside her door. But hallelujah, no slimy lizards here. She drew in a deep breath, savored the gecko-free scent of her beloved Michigan pines, and heard…

Church music?

Stephanie turned her face toward the sound and listened again. Sure enough, strains from a gently strummed acoustic guitar reached her ears. She stepped forward and followed the sound along the back of the inn, unable to resist. At the corner of the building she stopped to peek around to its side yard. A few dozen white folding chairs, of which little more than half were occupied, sat in short rows before a makeshift podium. Behind it stood a white-haired man with wrinkles etched deep into a kind, grandfatherly face. Off to his side sat a clean-shaven twenty-something man, looking a bit worse for the wear perched on a tall stool, a worn guitar resting on the knee of his faded jeans. Stephanie watched in awe as his fingers caressed its frets to produce a moving rendition of “It is Well with My Soul.”

Oh, the irony.

“You gonna spy on them the whole service or woman up and take a seat?”

Stephanie spun to find Miles walking toward her, dressed more like a vacationer than a churchgoer in leather sandals, khaki cargo shorts, and a navy, short-sleeved button-down shirt. Guess she didn’t have to go hunting him down after all. Now all she had to do was build up the nerve to ask him for one teensy little favor.

“It has nothing to do with womaning up. I’m just not dressed for it. ”

“Perfect,” he said, his stride never slowing as he hooked his arm through hers on his way by and pulled her toward the others. “Now I won’t be the only one.”

“Dang it, Miles,” she hissed, but it was too late—already several heads had turned in their direction. Panic gave her chest a squeeze. Though, whether from being spotted by the others or because of the unexpected electricity now crackling through her at his touch, she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that the trip she’d taken to clear her mind was doing nothing of the sort.

He guided them toward two open seats in the back row, and Stephanie was relieved to find their appearance had inspired no pointing fingers or hushed conversations. Apparently her sunglasses were enough of a disguise for this small crowd.

Miles stretched an arm across the back of her chair, seeming completely at ease. She, however, sat perched on the edge looking back to the aisle, contemplating making a run for it, before realizing she’d look like a fool—and likely draw more attention to herself—ducking out now. All she could do was grin and bear it, and hope like crazy the service would be brief.

A broad-shouldered man about their age in the row ahead of them turned to face Miles and lifted one brow. “Was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost on the long ride over, cuz.”

Brent.

Goodness, Stephanie hadn’t thought about him in years, not until Miles brought him up the other day. Laugh lines etched his mouth, and a few white hairs peeked through his dark, short hair, but otherwise he looked just as she remembered. His hand was clasped with a petite brunette beside him. Miles had said something about a girlfriend.

Brent’s stormy gray gaze shifted to hers, and his features softened. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a wink. “Try to keep this one in line during the service, will you?”

“Lost cause,” she muttered.

He snorted softly. “Don’t I know it.”

Brent turned to face forward and pulled Kayla closer, and an all-too-familiar churning began in Stephanie’s stomach. As much as she hated it, this had become her body’s natural reaction to the sight of other happy couples. Because once upon a time that had been her and Liam. So much for happily ever after…

“Cozy, isn’t it?” Miles asked.

“What is all this?” she whispered. “A special occasion or something?”

“Nope, just Ruby ensuring we all get our weekly dose of the Good News. Old Tom will read a few verses, offer some words of wisdom, and then step aside and let us listen to more of his grandson Cole’s music. The kid’s pretty good.”

“Well, thanks for dragging me into the mix—I could have heard him fine from over there.”

Her complaint had no bite to it. In truth, she’d missed going to church. But back home where there were churches, there were also crowds. And since she avoided those like the plague, it meant watching church on TV in her pajamas.

Somehow, it never felt quite the same.

“My pleasure.”

The low, smooth tenor of his voice curled around her senses. Stephanie squirmed in her seat. How was she supposed to sit through an entire service beside a guy who sounded sexy as sin?

“Relax. The paparazzi don’t usually join us here. But if even one of those vultures decides to descend on Ruby’s beloved service, well, Brent and I will chase them off in a heartbeat for you.”

She met Miles’s gaze and found sincerity behind his words. It’d been so long since she’d been able to be out in public without constantly looking over her shoulder. Even yesterday, lost in the masses at soccer, she’d spent most of her time scoping the crowd. But the idea of someone else watching out for her, even if only for a short church service, brought with it an unexpected amount of relief.

“Thanks, Miles.”

With a sigh, she settled back into her seat. But the moment her bare shoulders came in contact with the warm, strong arm resting atop her chair’s back, relax was the last thing she could do. Stephanie found herself too focused on his scent and touch to absorb much of what the pastor was now saying. The awkwardness felt like a warning shot sent down from the Big Man Upstairs himself, warning her not to get too comfortable with Miles. Because church service attendee or not, rumor had it her old bestie had remained quite the playboy even after college.

And that was the last kind of man she wanted to get mixed up with. Too bad with her interview a day away, beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers.

“Hey, Miles?” she asked.

His gaze found hers. “Yeah, Steph?”

“You gonna be around later? I…I need to ask you something.”