During the past few weeks with Miranda, the memories of the past hadn’t felt so suffocating. And he wasn’t exactly revving his engine to get back to Washington the way he should be. Spending time with Miranda had also softened the blow of losing Bea.
His hand slid down the slick banister as he took each step slowly, remembering the exact spot that made each one creak and groan under his weight. It had been a game he played as a kid when his grandparents still ran the inn.
Thanks to Miranda for inspiring a possible solution to Trinity Falls, he’d spent the last several evenings drawing up a proposal, complete with a PowerPoint presentation that he’d pitched to his investors via video conference. Luckily Ellen had put down her knitting needles long enough to organize it. The investors seemed to like it and promised a decision within the week. If they were willing to keep their money and their support behind Trinity Falls, the next step would be pitching it to the tribal councils.
Finally some good news. Maybe his luck was going to change. Now all he had to do was finish the inn, build Red River a gazebo, finish rehabbing his arm, figure out how to break the whole truth about Bea’s will to Miranda without her kicking his sorry ass to the curb, and figure out a way to keep Miranda in his life.
Sure, no problem. He doubted Houdini had pulled off more impossible stunts.
After last night, he needed to come clean and tell Miranda about his inheritance. It wasn’t important to him anymore—not as important as her, but she deserved to know the truth about the way he’d twisted the facts regarding the rec center so she’d let him help with the renovations and he could claim the money Bea left him.
He rubbed the stubble on his jaw.
One thing at a time. He hit the landing and took a step back to look in the antique oval mirror and run a hand through his bedhead. He leaned in to get a closer look at his neck. A broad smile cracked his face wide open, and he rubbed the round, cherry-red blotch where Miranda’s mouth had left her stamp of approval for last night’s activities.
Her marking him made his chest swell. It was like she was saying, “You’re mine,” and that’s what he wanted—to belong to her.
The rich aroma of coffee told him where he might find the culprit responsible for his hickey, so he walked through the great room. Sure enough, Miranda was in the kitchen, the coffeepot gurgling. He rounded the bar and got a full view of her wearing exactly what she’d been wearing last night. Her back to him, she bent to get a dishcloth out of a bottom drawer. And sweet Jesus, no she wasn’t wearing exactly the same thing. His white shirt, yes, minus the bra and panties.
He growled, which caused her to spin around and press up against the counter.
Her hand went to her heart.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He shuffled over to her, the old flooring cold against his feet. He placed both hands on the counter, framing her in. “Hi.”
“Hi.” A soft pink glow spread over her creamy cheeks, down her neck, and disappeared beneath his shirt, which, unfortunately, was buttoned this time. “Aren’t you cold?” Palms flat against his shoulders, she smoothed them over his chest.
The nip that settled over the Red River Valley every night year-round still hung in the air, but he had barely thought of it. Thoughts of Miranda not being in bed next to him when he woke up had crowded out any concern over the cold. Thoughts of how she’d rotated her hips while riding him last night kind of distracted him from the temperature too.
He leaned down, still framing her, so they were eye level and nose-to-nose. He breathed her in, the scent of coffee and vanilla making him want to taste her. “I was counting on you keeping me warm this morning.”
A shy smile formed on her mouth, and she pulled in her bottom lip.
He growled again. “Plus, you’ve got my shirt.”
“I can give it back,” she whispered. “Right now.” Color bloomed on her neck and chest, the soft skin between her breasts visible just above the buttoned shirt.
“Not necessary.” He angled his chin up so she could see her handiwork. “I’m going to have to wear turtlenecks for a few days.”
She blushed, but the amber flecks in her eyes ignited into lust.
“But you can still take off the shirt,” he said.
To hell with the fresh gurgling pot of coffee, because she laid a sultry kiss on him that had him wrapping her up in his arms. Her hands wandered over his chest, slow and easy, across his shoulders, and into his hair like she wanted to hold him there.
He planned to stay right there, too.
His hands did some wandering too. Down her back, over the dip of her waist, then they found the hem of his shirt. And, thank you God, she really was commando underneath.
Her sigh morphed into a heavy gasp for air as his hands found that sweet spot that had made her scream his name several times last night. So he wedged his thigh between her legs and spread them for better access. Sure enough, a few circles with his thumb, a deeper, hotter kiss, and a hand cupping one full, perky breast and she was murmuring his name all over again.
She squeaked when he lifted her onto the counter. “I may never get this place to pass inspection if the health department finds out about this.” She smiled at him. Reached for the front of his jeans and had him in her hand with that sexy smile still on her lips.
That smile turned to another gasp when he inserted his hands between the cold counter and her hot ass and pulled her to the edge in one swift motion. “I know a thing or two about dealing with inspectors.” He pulled something from his back pocket and had it on in a blink of her sleepy eyes. He slid all the way into her with one bold stroke, and as if his fantasies hadn’t already been fulfilled the past twenty-four hours, she screamed his name, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He leaned his forehead against hers, letting both of them adjust to how completely he filled her. How perfectly she fit around him. The only woman he’d ever been with who made him feel whole again.
Her wet flesh was already quivering around his cock, so he hooked an arm under one of her knees. “Lean back with your hands behind you.” She did, and he ground into her, hard and fast until neither of them could breathe and he never wanted to leave that spot or leave her again.
She moved her hips in rhythm with his, reaching to meet him as best she could. Her head fell back and that beautiful head of flowing black locks tumbled over her shoulders and swayed behind her. Eyes closed, a smile curved onto her lips, and the glow of heated skin and rushing desire spread over her.
“Jesus, you look so good.”
Her eyes fluttered open and locked with his. And his heart nearly stopped, because she looked at him with so much love in her gaze that he didn’t deserve. He slowed his strokes.
Her leg clamped around his butt. “Don’t stop.”
Accommodating guy that he was, he obliged by grasping her hip with his free hand, lifting the leg that was draped over the crook of his elbow, and drove into her as fast and deep as he could.
The sexy moans, parted lips, and tightly closed eyes told him the storm was building inside of her. His teeth clenched, he tried to hold on to his own sanity until she lost hers. And sure enough, a little rotation of his hips as he buried himself in her over and over, and a shimmy overtook her and she cried out, “Yes!”
That pushed him over the edge, and he buried his face in her hair to breathe her in. She threaded her arms around his neck, and he did the same around her waist. And there they sat for what seemed like hours, because it was just so damn amazing and so damn right.
“I made you some coffee,” she whispered against his neck.
He laughed.
“Let’s have a cup,” he said, trailing kisses up her neck to her ear. “In bed.” He suckled her earlobe. “Maybe get some breakfast at the Gold Miner’s Café later this morning.” His warm breaths against her ear caused her to shiver. “Then go back to bed.”
She laughed. “Aren’t we going to work today?”
He lifted her off the counte
r and set her down. “Nope. It’s Sunday.” He smacked her on the bottom. “We’ll pick Lloyd up too. He’s been alone all night.”
And the thought of him and her and Bea’s prissy little dog together right here in Red River eased the weight of regret that had always settled over him when he came back to town. It also caused his mind to reel because he wasn’t sure he could make it all work.
Trying to maneuver his life so that he could have it all might just leave him with nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
“I did him,” Miranda said two days later, slumped in the chair across from Lorenda’s desk at Brooks Real Estate. Actually Talmadge had been the one doing her. Several times. All of which were quite phenomenal.
“Did what to who?” Lorenda’s printer spit out listings for a client, and she stapled and organized them in the order she planned to show them. Miranda had watched her BFF’s routine a thousand times.
“Talmadge. I did him.” Miranda widened her eyes in a you-know-what-I-mean gesture. “Didn’t you see the latest Red River Rag? Everyone in town knows he’s been staying nights at my place.”
Lorenda froze, papers in hand. “You slept with Talmadge? Why on earth would you do that?”
“You told me to!” Miranda threw an arm over her eyes.
“I was drinking,” said Lorenda, kind of defensive. “You know I don’t spend much time away from the kids, and I didn’t want to waste perfectly good beer.” She let the listings fall to the desk. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Miranda pulled the Red River Rag up on her phone and handed it to Lorenda.
A picture of Talmadge carrying her purse into the inn was first. Then a close-up, obviously taken with a zoom lens, of Miranda and him leaving the inn the next morning. His bedhead said, “I stayed the night,” and his glaring hickey said, “And hell yes, I got laid.” The caption underneath read, What we’ve suspected all along is finally official! Red River’s darling has DESIGNS on our favorite architect. But if he built it, did she come?
Lorenda grabbed the phone and ogled it. “On the bright side, you’re now labeled the town darling.”
“There is that,” Miranda snarked. “It’s much better than being labeled the town slut.”
“No one in this town has ever seen you that way. You’re just sensitive because of your mom.”
“If Mrs. Wilkinson had her way, I’d have a scarlet letter tattooed on my forehead.”
“Mrs. Wilkinson’s a bitter old woman. My parents joined a different church years ago because of that old bat. Maybe she’s jealous because her husband’s never given her an orgasm.”
Miranda moaned from under her arm like a wounded animal that had been hit by a car.
“So are you guys together”—Lorenda chose her words carefully, her leather executive chair creaking as she shifted—“long term? Because, sweetie, you’re not the sleep-around kind of gal, and he’s not the stick-around kind of guy. He can’t stay forever.”
And that was just the point. He wasn’t in Red River helping her with the inn because he was madly in love with her. He was here to fulfill some sense of obligation to his grandmother. Maybe he didn’t want a one-night stand this time, but at most, they were a short-term fling.
“Together, yes.” In many different positions. “For how long, who knows?” She flung her arms over the sides of the armchair.
Lorenda gave her the same look she gave her two boys when they’d done something stupid and she wanted an explanation. “And why are you together with a man who’s going to leave you?”
Because it typically worked better if a girl was actually together with the man she was in love with. “Well. He distracted me with his lips and naked muscled chest. You and the rest of the mommy mafia warned me about the chest.” She stared at the ceiling. “And his eyes turned this incredible shade of purple when he watched me play my air guitar routine in nothing but a bra, panties, and his dress shirt.”
Lorenda’s jaw fell open.
“You know I adore purple, right? And it was like I was in this weird trance when he had his lips and his hands all over me. And then I gave him a hickey, and it’s all your fault for telling me to do him, which was clearly the worst advice ever. What kind of best friend are you, anyway?”
Miranda lifted her head off the back of the chair to find Lorenda’s eyes dilated and her mouth still agape.
“You have an air guitar routine? How could I not know this?”
Miranda huffed. “It’s a long story.”
Lorenda laced her fingers and leaned forward. “I’m just worried about you. Starting a sexual relationship can cloud a girl’s judgment.” Her eyes turned sad, and it plucked at Miranda’s heart. She was the only person who knew Lorenda’s secret and what a lonely, rocky road she’d traveled with her late husband. “Once you take the first couple steps through that door, it’s hard to close. It’s like a gushing faucet that can’t be shut off.”
Precisely the problem. Miranda didn’t want to shut it off. She wanted to keep the water running hot and steamy. But that would require Talmadge staying in Red River, which was impossible.
“So what am I going to do now?”
“I can see why he was impossible to resist.” Lorenda leaned back in her chair and gave the ceiling a dreamy stare. “I mean, come on, he’s gorgeous. And very nice. Talmadge is a great guy, actually.”
“Not helping,” Miranda growled.
Lorenda stopped gazing at the ceiling like she was longing for a prince charming to come along for her. “Um, sorry.” She swiveled back and forth in her chair. “You must really care about him, because I’ve never seen you take a chance like this before.”
Miranda choked back a sob. She’d been able to let him go seven years ago because he hadn’t really been hers. But now they were together. Like together, together. And she didn’t know if she could survive him leaving again.
“Oh, sweetie,” Lorenda said like Miranda was one of her kids and had just skinned a knee. “It’s obvious by the way Talmadge looks at you that he has feelings for you. Maybe you two can work something out.”
The only solution Miranda could see was Talmadge leaving, and her staying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.
Miranda smoothed wallpaper onto the walls going up the stairs just the way Talmadge had shown her while he went to Coop’s office for more treatment, and she found herself singing. She brushed the damp walls, getting out every bubble, and trotted a few steps up with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. That bounce and smile hadn’t left her in two solid weeks because of how fast the inn was coming along and the festival was coming together.
The great sex hadn’t hurt either.
Life was good. Maybe it was waking up with the most gorgeous man on the planet wrapped around her every morning. Or the way he touched her so inappropriately when no one was around to see, even with all her clothes on. Or the way he smiled and winked at her when people were around and touching was off limits.
It was so good that she had barely noticed Jamie’s absence. How could she with Talmadge filling her bed, filling her thoughts, and filling her body? Heat flashed through her. Talmadge had become her whole world.
And that scared the living hell out of her. It was exactly what her mother had allowed time after time. It was exactly what Miranda had tried to avoid her entire adult life.
Her cell rang, Darth Vader’s heavy breathing—the ringtone reserved especially for her mother—rasping through the inn like a disturbing porn flick.
She took a break to answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sugar.” Her mother’s scratchy voice came through the line.
Hellfire. What did she want this time?
“I’ve been following the stories about you and Bea’s grandson. New picture of you two every day.”
Every day? The last one she’d seen was two weeks ago, taken after he spent the night for the first time. “I don’t keep up.” Probably because of all the sex they’d been having.
She choked and cleared her throat.
“Since he’s rich, do you really need to keep going with this pipe dream of yours?” Her mom sucked in an audible drag from a cigarette and blew it out. “It will just suck up all your money if it hasn’t already. And then you’ll be worse off than you were before.”
True. But too late.
Another drag. “Maybe Talmadge could give you the money back, now that you two got a thing goin’ on.”
Well put. She and Talmadge did have a thing going on. And she wasn’t sure what else to call it. She was afraid to even discuss it with him. He’d tried, but she managed to change the subject every time. How could it end any other way but bad? The inn and the gazebo were almost done. After that, he wasn’t staying, and she couldn’t go.
She loved Talmadge. And she was pretty sure he loved her. He hadn’t said it, but she felt it every time he touched her, made love to her, and even when he looked at her.
But love wasn’t always enough.
“I’m not giving up the inn, Mom,” Miranda said. “And I’m not letting Talmadge give it to me either.”
Her mother sighed. “You’ve always been so determined, Miranda. I wish I was more like you.”
“You could be, Mom. It’s not too late.”
Her mom blew out another drag. “I hope it works out for you, sugar. I really do. I don’t want to see you end up broke, crying, and pathetic like me,” her mother said, being honest for the first time that Miranda could remember.
“Then do something to help yourself, Mom. Help your situation. And for God’s sake, set a better example for Jamie.”
Her mom went quiet. “I don’t know where you got your strength, but you didn’t get it from me.”
Miranda pinched the corners of her eyes.
Unfortunately, at least some of what her mother said made sense. Miranda was quite sure she’d end up pathetically crying over Talmadge Oaks sooner or later.
It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) Page 22