Gaining Miles: A Miles Family Novella (The Miles Family Book 5)

by Claire Kingsley

  Finally, I found a little white envelope on the floor beneath my desk. I must have knocked it over when I’d gotten here—maybe when I’d taken off my coat. I picked it up, but there was no name on the outside. Just a little stamp with the florist’s logo.

  I popped open the envelope and took out the crisp white card. Inside was one word, written in black ink. Shannon.

  I stared at my name, penned in neat handwriting. The flowers were for me?

  Turning the card over, I looked for another name. Peeked in the envelope in case I’d missed something. But there was no other signature. No indication who’d sent them.

  Were they from one of my kids? It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t the anniversary of Salishan’s founding or any other milestone I could recall. We’d already celebrated my divorce. Why would one of them have sent me flowers?

  Roland obviously hadn’t. He would have told me when I’d texted him. It wasn’t Cooper. He’d have bypassed a florist and made the arrangement himself. Could it have been Leo? Or Brynn? They didn’t seem likely either.

  And these flowers weren’t the sort of thing someone would send their mother. They weren’t send-to-a-friend flowers, either, so I doubted it had been Naomi. A professional contact was possible—perhaps one of our vendors or a winery client. But they would have sent a more detailed note—and probably chosen a more business-appropriate arrangement.

  These flowers weren’t friendly. They were romantic.

  “Those are pretty.” Zoe’s voice behind me made me jump.

  I put my hand to my chest. “You startled me. And yes, they are.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her eyes flicked to the flowers. “Who sent them?”

  “I don’t know.” I narrowed my eyes. “But why do I think you do?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was saying she didn’t know who’d sent the flowers, or she didn’t know why I thought she knew.

  “Zoe Miles, are you hiding something from me?”

  “I didn’t send you the flowers,” she said.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  She held up her wrist and looked down at it, but she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Look at the time. We have a wedding tonight, I need to get to work.”

  I put my hands on my hips, but she turned and walked away. She did know something, which meant it had to be…

  But he couldn’t have. Could he? It had to be a mistake.

  And yet, the card said my name.

  I had an unfamiliar fluttering in my tummy—a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. Tracing my finger over the letters of my name, I dared to think it. Dared to let his name drift through my mind.

  Had Benjamin Gaines sent me flowers?

  The thought that it had been him left me a little breathless, and strangely giddy. I realized I was smiling, the card with my name dangling from my fingertips. I took a deep breath, inhaling the flowers’ fragrance. So beautiful. So thoughtful.

  And it occurred to me in that moment how much I wanted it to be him.

  Over the next few hours, I didn’t get much work done. I kept stopping to gaze at the flowers or getting up to peek downstairs to see if Ben was here.

  I wondered if I should call him to say thank you. But what if he hadn’t sent the flowers? That would be awkward. And if he had sent them, why hadn’t he signed his name? Had the florist made a mistake, or had he done that on purpose?

  Around noon I gave up trying to work and decided to go home for lunch. I left the flowers on my desk, shouldered my purse, and went downstairs.

  The lobby was quiet, although it would get busier later when wedding guests arrived. I went out through the kitchen, where the caterer was already prepping for tonight’s event.

  Outside was sunny and pleasant, the early spring air fragrant. A familiar voice caught my attention. Pausing, I glanced over my shoulder into the back garden.

  Ben stood speaking to Roland. He pointed at one of the pear trees and said something I couldn’t quite hear. Roland nodded. Then Ben’s eyes moved to mine, our gazes locking. One corner of his mouth hooked upward in a small smile, and he winked at me.

  My breath caught in my throat, a rush of nerves made my stomach flutter, and my cheeks flushed. Ben went back to his conversation with Roland. But that look. That wink. He’d never winked at me before.

  Oh my god, he had sent me the flowers.

  I went home, my entire body tingling. It seemed so silly that a bouquet and a wink could have such an effect on me. I wasn’t a naive little girl anymore. But that look he’d given me. Full of heat and a little mischief, like we shared a secret.

  I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. When I went home that night, I decided to text him a thank you.

  Me: Do I have you to thank for the flowers?

  Ben: Yes. Did you like them?

  Me: They’re beautiful. Thank you.

  Ben: My pleasure.

  Me: It’s been a long time since a man bought me flowers.

  Ben: Thought so. Figured it was time to change that.

  Me: Why didn’t you sign your name? Was it supposed to be a secret?

  Ben: Not really. Just having a little fun with you.

  I laughed and bit my lower lip. Was he flirting with me? It had been so long, I wasn’t sure if I’d recognize it.

  Me: Thank you again. That was really sweet.

  Ben: You’re welcome. Good night, Shannon.

  Me: Good night, Benjamin.

  The next morning, I opened my front door and found a large package on my doorstep. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. No shipping label or address. Just a tag hanging from the twine, my name written in neat handwriting.

  Ben’s handwriting.

  Feeling a little jumpy with excitement, I brought it inside and set it on the dining table. I untied the package and tore it open. Careful not to spill the foam packing material, I dug through the box.

  I felt something hard and smooth, like glass. A glass bottle, perhaps. Had he sent me wine? That was odd.

  I pulled out what was indeed a wine bottle. One of ours, in fact. But it was empty. He’d cut off the bottom of the bottle and run a chain through the top with a metal circle at the base of the neck to hold it in place. Hanging from the circle—inside the bottle—was a votive holder with a candle.

  It was beautiful.

  Inside the box were two more just like it. They’d look wonderful hanging on my front porch.

  I checked the box to see if there was anything else. Perhaps a note or a card. I found another bottle—this one wrapped in bubble wrap. It was heavier than the lanterns had been.

  I unwrapped the bottle—it was unopened—and stared at the label. I hadn’t seen one of these in years. It was a Salishan wine, but the label was old and faded. The date was twenty-six years ago.

  The year Ben had come to work for Salishan.

  I ran my thumb along the label. It brought back a whirlwind of memories. My boys had been so little. Brynn hadn’t even been born. I remembered that summer so well. Remembered meeting Ben for the first time when he’d found Cooper in the vineyard.

  Where had he found this? Had he kept a bottle from his first year working at the winery?

  It was a Saturday—Ben’s day off—which meant I probably wouldn’t see him. So I decided to call.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning. I see you’ve been out and about early today.”

  “I take it you opened your front door?”

  I laughed. “I did. Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’re welcome. I can come by sometime and hang the lanterns if you want.”

  “Please do,” I said. “I think they’ll look lovely on the porch. Where did you get the wine?”

  “I had it at home,” he said.

  “It’s from your first season here, isn’t it?”

  “I’m pleased you remember.”

  “Of course I do.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.”

  I ended the call and put my phone down. This was so unexpected. Flowers, and now this? A gift he’d made, and a sweet reminder of the first time we’d met?

  What are you up to, Benjamin Gaines?

  Eight

  Shannon

  Ben’s gifts didn’t end there. The next day, I had another package on my porch. This time it was a new mug. It was white and said Good Morning, Beautiful in gold letters.

  I stared at it for a while before making my morning tea. Traced my fingers over the words. Was he really calling me beautiful?

  After brewing my tea, I sent him a picture of the mug.

  Ben: That’s nice. Who sent it to you?

  Me: Stop. Wait, didn’t you?

  Ben: I’m teasing, it was me. Do you like it?

  Me: I love it. Very pretty.

  Ben: So are you.

  My heart did a little flutter and I couldn’t contain my smile.

  Me: Thank you. This is so sweet.

  Ben: You’re welcome. Can I come by later? I can hang those lanterns for you.

  Me: I’d love that.

  Ben: Great, I’ll see you this afternoon.

  I put my phone down and took a sip of my tea. This afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.

  The knock on my door gave me butterflies. I’d never felt nervous to see Ben before. Not really. We’d been friends for years, and close friends since my ex had left. But now, something was happening between us. He’d sent me flowers and thoughtful gifts. He’d called me beautiful.

  There was no denying that he was an intensely attractive man. From his tanned skin and salt-and-pepper beard to his thick arms and strong hands, he was handsome and capable.

  Was he actually interested in me?

  I answered the door, expecting to see Ben. I blinked in surprise to see Leo and Hannah on my front porch. Leo had his arm around her shoulders—his scarred arm, no less.

  I wanted to hug Hannah every time I saw her. Because of her, my son had life in his eyes—such a contrast from the wounded young man who’d come home to us. Although I’d been as shocked as anyone to hear they were having a baby, I couldn’t wait to meet my granddaughter in a few months.

  “Hey, Mom,” Leo said. He was holding my stand mixer. “We just wanted to return this.”

  “Thanks.” I moved aside so they could come in. “You can just set it on the counter.”

  Leo took the mixer into the kitchen while Hannah came in and sat at the dining table.

  “Thanks again for letting me use it,” she said. “I definitely need to get one for myself. That lemon meringue pie recipe you gave me is amazing.”

  “Oh good, I’m glad it turned out. Would you like tea?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, then brought mugs and a little basket of tea bags to the dining table.

  The front door swung open and Cooper sauntered in. Amelia was with him—of course—her hand clasped in his. My son had what you might call a passion for funny boyfriend t-shirts. Today, he wore a shirt that said If You Think I’m Cute, You Should See My Girlfriend. It was probably the Cooper-est shirt I’d ever seen.

  “Mominator,” Cooper said. He dropped Amelia’s hand long enough to give me a hug.

  “Hey, Cooper,” I said, hugging him back. Then I hugged Amelia, too. “What are you up to?”

  “Not much.” He slid onto the bench at the dining table and pulled Amelia onto his lap. “What about you?”

  His eyes flicked to the kitchen, and I had a pretty good idea of what had brought him here. I’d made scones earlier. Cooper had a sixth sense when it came to my baking.

  “I made scones this morning,” I said. “Would you like some?”

  “Heck, yes,” Cooper said.

  Amelia patted him on the cheek, then stood. “I’ll help.”

  She and I brought out the scones, along with butter and jam, as well as more mugs for tea.

  Brynn and Chase seemed to appear out of nowhere and the next thing I knew, my dining table was filled with my kids. I glanced at the door a few times, wondering if Roland and Zoe were going to show up next.

  I sat with a mug of tea and listened while they chatted—even Leo. Not only did Leo contribute to the conversation, he smiled and laughed.

  These people made my heart so full.

  There was another knock on the door and Cooper sprang up to answer it.

  “Ben,” he said as he opened the door. “Good to see you, man. Come in.”

  My throat felt tight, like I wasn’t going to be able to speak. I hadn’t said a word to my kids about Ben’s flowers or other gifts. And I hadn’t anticipated having an audience when he came over today.

  Judging by the surprise on his face, he hadn’t counted on my kids being here, either.

  “Shannon,” he said, nodding to me.

  I rose from my seat and gestured to the kitchen. He followed me in.

  “Hi,” I said. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “I brought you something.” He held out a hardbound book. “I borrowed it from the library, but it was so good I thought you might want to read it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the book and holding it against my chest. “I just finished the last one you loaned me, so this is perfect timing.”

  Laughter spilled into the kitchen from the other room. His eyes darted to the doorway, then back to me.

  “How about I hang those lanterns for you?”

  “That would be great.”

  I glanced at my kids, still sitting around my dining table, as I helped Ben get the lanterns. I loved that they still came over—and that they felt like this house was still a home to them. But for the first time, I kind of wished they hadn’t stayed.

  Feeling a little guilty for that thought, I took the lanterns out to the front porch.

  Ben spent some time hanging them while I sat nearby and watched him work. Watched his capable hands as he used his tools. His strong body as he stretched to reach the beam and drilled hooks into place.

  “How does this look?” he asked when he’d finished.

  The lanterns hung at differing heights, the light catching on the glass. “They’re perfect.”

  Our eyes met and he held my gaze for a long moment. The heat in his subtle smile sent a shiver down my spine.

  The sound of laughter inside jolted me from my daze.

  “I should probably get home,” Ben said.

  A little wave of disappointment washed over me. Should I invite him to stay? What would it mean if I did?

  I was feeling things—big things—and it scared me. I’d told myself more times than I could count that Ben and I were just friends. That I wasn’t going to date again. That my life was fine the way it was. And the idea of things changing between us made me more than a little bit nervous. So I hesitated.

  He closed his toolbox and picked it up. His eyes made a slow, deliberate trip down my body, then up again. “I’ll see you later, Shannon.”

  “Bye, Benjamin.”

  I went back inside and sat with my kids at the table. Eventually, the impromptu gathering tapered off. Two by two, they left, until it was once again just me, alone in my house.

  It was late, but I couldn’t sleep. Instead of continuing to toss and turn, I went out to my front porch and lit the candles in the lanterns Ben had made. I sat in the wooden chair wrapped in a sweater, the book he’d brought in my lap. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the porch. I decided I’d read a while and hopefully get sleepy.

  Before I’d gotten more than a few pages into the book, I got a text.

  Ben: Any chance you’re awake?

  Me: I am. Couldn’t sleep.

  Ben: Me neither. Did you light the candles tonight?

  Me: I did. They’re beauti
ful.

  Ben: Glad you like them. What are you doing now?

  Me: Sitting on the porch with the book you brought me. Sorry if you wanted to talk earlier. The kids all just wandered over.

  Ben: Can’t say I blame them. You did have scones.

  Me: True. Those are hard to resist.

  Ben: Mm, so hard to resist.

  I bit my lip and read his last text several times. Was he talking about the scones? Of course he was talking about the scones. I was a good cook. He obviously wasn’t saying I was hard to resist.

  Was he?

  Me: Are we still talking about scones?

  Ben: Maybe. You have quite a few things that are hard to resist.

  Me: I do?

  Ben: Oh, Shannon. If you only knew.

  My heart fluttered and that sense of giddiness stole through me again. Texting him like this, late at night, made me feel a little bit brave. Brave enough to…

  Me: Tell me.

  Ben: I’ve had to resist you for a long time. Resist your eyes. Your smile.

  Ben: And those lips. I’d die a happy man if I could taste them even once.

  Me: It’s been a long time since these lips have been kissed.

  Ben: Too long. Far too long.

  Ben: Shannon, I’d kiss you so you’d forget ever having been kissed before.

  Me: It would feel good, wouldn’t it?

  Ben: So good. I’d put my hands in your hair and kiss you breathless. Remind you what it feels like to be desired.

  Me: It’s been such a long time since I felt that, too.

  Ben: Shannon, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. If you have any doubts that you’re desirable, I’d love to be the man to fix that for you.

  Me: It’s hard not to have doubts. This body is… well, it’s not the same. And I haven’t… in a long time.

  Ben: There are so many things to love about your body. And if you let me, I’ll show you each and every one. But the most important thing is that it’s you.

  Ben: I find you desirable, Shannon. All of you.

  I closed my eyes, imagining Ben’s lips against mine. His hands on my body. I’d been trying to tell myself I had plenty of things to fulfill me. That I didn’t need anything—or anyone—else.