Her Unexpected Engagement (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  Miles stopped laughing as he took in the serious look on her face. They both turned, wide-eyed, to Brent and back to each other…and promptly broke into a fresh round of belly laughs.

  “Great. Had I known you two were three sheets to the wind, I would have brought the paddy wagon instead.”

  “Pfft! He said ‘paddy’!” Stephanie howled with laughter and slapped Miles on the back. The pain brought him half a second of clarity, long enough for him to recognize that look on his cousin’s face.

  “Okay, now. Come on and get in before he decides we need to walk home.”

  “Smart boy,” grumbled Brent.

  “Man,” Stephanie corrected as she took a stab at getting her seat belt latched.

  Miles helped guide the buckle into place then cupped her face in his hands. “God, I love you.”

  A broad grin stretched over her lips. “Aw, I love you, too, buddy.”

  Without warning she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him hard on the lips. “Mmmwah.”

  Just as suddenly, she released him, her head falling back onto the seat’s headrest and her eyes drifting shut. Miles shot a surprised look at the rearview mirror to see if Brent had seen, and found his cousin staring back at him, mouth ajar.

  After a moment Brent cleared his throat. “Crazy night, huh?”

  “Crazy fun,” said Miles.

  “Not all fun.” Stephanie waggled a finger at him. “We did some work, too. Wedding planning, and all.”

  Brent shot him another look in the rearview mirror.

  “Pretend planning. Steph’s future slimeball boss seems to think she won’t be able to function without a man.”

  “Pfft. Men, who needs ‘em?” She put a finger to those perfect lips of hers. “Hmm, seems I do. And he’s not a slimeball, Miles.”

  “Says you.”

  “Okay.” Brent arched a brow. “Dare I ask where this fake wedding is going to be?”

  “Vegas.”

  “Atlantic City.”

  Miles met Stephanie’s gaze, and they both erupted into a fresh fit of laughter.

  “Guess you two have a little more work to do. Another time, preferably when you’re both sober.” Brent shook his head. “So, where am I taking you two lovebirds, anyway?”

  Stephanie snorted. “We’re hardly birds.”

  Or in love. “Back to—”

  “Miles’s place.”

  Miles turned to Stephanie in surprise. “What? To my place?”

  “Well, yeah, dummy. I can’t go stumbling back to my room like this. If Rubes saw me, she’d pro’lly kick me right out of the inn.”

  “Ruby would never kick you out, sugar.” Miles grinned—Stephanie sounded kind of cute when her words were all slurry like that.

  “Please, Miles.” Her eyelids parted and those perfect pink lips pulled into a small pout. “Please let me come home with you.”

  Her hand skimmed his thigh and all thoughts of “cute” went right out the window. He met Brent’s gaze in the rearview mirror, common sense be damned.

  “You heard the lady. My house it is.”

  “Yay!” she squealed.

  “Yay,” muttered Brent.

  The ride was a bit of a blur—oh hell, everything was for a while—but soon they were pulling into his driveway and Brent was telling them to be careful walking up the steps. Miles fumbled with his keys for a minute, Stephanie hanging on his free arm, urging him to hurry because she had to pee.

  “Bathroom?” she asked the minute they stepped in the door.

  “Down the hall, last door on the right.”

  Miles headed for his room’s adjoining master bath. She wasn’t the only one who had to go. Though it wasn’t until he reached to flush that Miles realized neither of them had thought to turn any lights on.

  “Miles?”

  He zipped his fly and stumbled his way back out to the hall. “Coming.”

  “Already?” she said with a giggle, suddenly there, standing right before him. “That’s no fun.”

  Moonlight streamed through a nearby window, casting just enough light from the still-activated motion sensor front porch lights to illuminate her beautiful face here in the hallway. He stood there, torn. She was drunk, hell they both were, but also one step away from his bedroom door. Six steps from his bed.

  No, he’d never take advantage of a woman who wasn’t coherent enough to make this kind of decision.

  “Come on, funny girl.” He snagged her arm and pulled her toward the living room before he had a chance to change his mind. “Maybe we can find something good on TV to watch while we sober up.”

  He dropped onto the couch. She dropped into his lap.

  “Um, Steph? What are you doing?”

  Her gaze shifted to his lips. “What I’ve wanted to do for years.”

  He froze. Stephanie…had wanted him?

  She leaned in and kissed him. Not like the silly kiss in the car but a long, slow kiss. Her mouth opened against his, and instinct had him mirroring her movement. It felt so good, so right.

  But it wasn’t. It was all wrong, and the few sober brain cells he had were screaming at him to stop. It took every remaining ounce of willpower for him to break the kiss and turn his face away.

  “We shouldn’t, Steph. Not like this.”

  Rather than pull back, she shifted to straddle him as her lips simply moved to his jawline and then toward his ear, kissing and nipping along the way. “I haven’t been touched by a man in over six months, Miles. Six months. Maybe seven.”

  Her hands slid down along his sides, slipped under his shirt and back up, bringing the fabric along with her. He started to object but then ducked to keep from choking as she tried to yank it up and off his head. Intoxicated, she was much less coordinated than usual.

  “Stephanie.”

  She tossed his shirt aside and stared down at his bare torso, desire in her eyes as they shifted their focus to his. “Please? Please don’t tell me no.”

  Her lips reclaimed his again. The forward movement ground her body against him, and he uttered a throaty moan. She was going to be the end of him. He slid his hands up into her hair, so gloriously soft, and kissed her back. Her hips shifted above him again, taunting him, but his buzz was starting to fade, and with it the haze of drunken stupidity.

  He tugged her head away from him. “Trust me, I want to. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to. But you’re drunk.”

  A flash of disappointment shone in her eyes. Rejection, maybe? As if he could reject her under any other circumstances. As it was he could barely manage to hold out on her now. But as quickly as the emotion appeared, it was gone. Replaced with a look that scared him even more. Determination.

  She slid closer to him if that was even possible, the movement slow and deviously intentional. “Do you really think I would have done that first shot if I hadn’t known where it might lead us?”

  He stared down at her, desire rendering him mute.

  “Liam used to make me wait weeks for it, make me beg for him to join me. Please don’t make me beg, Miles.”

  Fury lit in his veins at Liam, that controlling little bastard. Why? Why had Miles not fought for Stephanie while he’d had the chance? He’d wanted her since their first day of college—hell, probably longer but his younger self had been too stupid to realize it—and now she was here, really here. No dream, no fantasy. Here and real.

  And he’d be damned if he was going to miss his chance with her this time.

  “Never in a million years.”

  Miles shifted to the edge of the couch and stood, lifting her as he moved. Stephanie wrapped her legs around him, keeping her hips pressed to his. He thought about staying right there, bending her over the edge of the couch and finding the heaven he never thought he’d find. But no, he needed room to work, to explore every inch of her, before he woke up and discovered it had all been some cruel dream. He carried her into his bedroom and laid her upon his bed.

  “Miles,” she
breathed, reaching for him.

  God, he wanted her. But he had to ask one last time, his fear of messing this up consuming him even now. Because this was the one person he did not want to mess things up with. Miles lowered himself down, and kissed his way up from the base of her neck to her ear. “Are you sure you’re sure about this?”

  “Mmm, you feel so warm.”

  He paused. Okay, warm wasn’t exactly what he’d expected her to say, but he could live with that. “So, that’s a yes?”

  “So warm. Sheets so soft.”

  Silence.

  “Steph?”

  The silence continued.

  Miles pushed up onto his elbows to squint through the darkness and try to read her expression. “Stephanie?”

  A soft snore greeted his ears. With a groan Miles rolled off her. Raging hard-on or not, he couldn’t be mad at her. Because if he’d had a crappy year, hers had been that tenfold. Maybe more. He’d set out tonight to cheer her up, and from that look of contentment on her sleeping face, he’d succeeded. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was take that away from her.

  He dragged a hand down his face and a humorless laugh escaped him. All the women he’d brought here, all the bedroom adventures he’d had, and the one experience he’d wanted more than all others ended with the woman of his dreams asleep beneath him.

  Miles glared at the ceiling, cursing a fate that would bring them together, to this very moment, and then thumb its nose in his general direction.

  Hey, karma? I hate you, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Stephanie woke to the sound of a door clicking shut and cracked one eye open. Her room at the inn seemed darker this morning. Was it overcast outside, maybe? Fine with her, meant less guilt for being a bum and staying in bed longer. And after all the alcohol she’d consumed with Miles last night, she would need a day to recoup.

  Her eyelid slid shut once more. Mmm, Miles.

  A hazy memory flitted through her mind of them on the couch, her stripping him free of that dark polo shirt to reveal a well-maintained six-pack. He’d looked good enough to eat. He’d been so serious, nervous almost, and then he’d told her no. Though his excuse had sounded unexpectedly noble, the rejection stung even now. But drunk or not she’d refused to be pushed aside by him. She knew what she wanted, and that had been him.

  What frustrated her now was the realization that she couldn’t remember much more than that. Like the actual act, or how she’d gotten back to the inn.

  Boy, did I screw that all up. First post-divorce tryst and I was too drunk to even remember.

  Stephanie rolled onto her back with a scowl and draped an arm over her eyes. Somewhere nearby and to her left, a shower turned on. Which was odd—she didn’t remember there being a shower in the room to her left. She shifted her arm and a ceiling fan came into view, one she didn’t remember being in her room before. Her gaze drifted to the side, and all sorts of other unfamiliar items came into view: a cherry wood dresser, La-Z-Boy side chair, flat-screen TV, Wedgewood blue walls, black satin sheets.

  Black satin sheets?

  Stephanie bolted upright, then brought both hands to her head as a thousand drums began beating inside it. With a grimace she clamped her eyes shut, praying for the pounding to subside. Ugh, she never should have drank so much.

  When the drumming became manageable, she peeled her covers back and found all her clothes intact. She tiptoed out into the hall and made her way to the guest bathroom.

  Why had she slept in her clothes? she wondered as she stood at the sink, elbows on the counter and head in hands as the twenty steps to get to this spot had done her hangover no favors. Had they done it, she’d started to get dressed, and then she’d passed out? Or…

  “Oh, no,” she whispered as the last of her hazy memories of the night before finally snapped into place. He’d stretched out above her, all right, looking sexy with the bad-boy smile that before had been reserved for everyone but Stephanie. But then he’d felt so warm against her, so protective. She hadn’t felt that safe in ages.

  And she’d fallen asleep.

  Her first romantic interlude as a single-again woman and she’d blown it.

  With a groan, she looked up at the mirror. The view that met her quickly transformed the sound into a strangled, horrified shriek. Her hair was askew in thirty-seven directions, and yesterday’s makeup was mostly smeared away. All that remained was her mascara, which now ringed her bloodshot eyes.

  She looked like a raccoon on meth.

  Even worse was the realization that she’d awakened facing Miles’s side of the bed. And since he’d gotten up first, he had to have seen her. Oh, lord. No wonder he’d snuck off without waking her.

  Liam cursed me. That bastard married me and cursed me, and I’ll probably never have another enjoyable bedroom experience as long as I live. She cranked on the hot water and proceeded to scrub yesterday from her face.

  Clean-faced and hair as tamed as finger-combing would allow, Stephanie made her way back to the bedroom to talk to Miles. Because as much as she would have loved to crawl into a hole and die right about now, that really wasn’t an option. Rebecka would find her and kill her for being such an idiot, and then hunt down and kill Miles to avenge the death. And this wasn’t his fault, not one bit.

  She found him padding across his room barefoot, white towel snug around his trim waist. Water remained beaded upon his chest, the fine hair there darkening as it trailed down toward said towel, drawing her gaze right along with it.

  “I see you’re up.”

  There was something in his voice that hadn’t been there last night—distance. Whatever walls he’d allowed to come down at Chevvy’s were safely back in place today. Not good for her. Or maybe it was? With this hangover, thinking was a painful struggle.

  “Uh, yeah.” She rubbed one hand absentmindedly up and down her opposite arm. “Miles, about last night…”

  “No need to say it. It was a mistake. I never should have brought you back here. Neither of us were in any condition to make that kind of decision.” He opened the top drawer in his dresser and snagged a pair of black boxers. “In fact, you falling asleep was probably for the best.”

  Stephanie’s mouth dropped open in shock. Was he…dismissing her?

  “If we hurry, we can sneak you back in the side door while everyone else is still asleep. Ruby’ll never know you didn’t return last night.” He looked up suddenly and scowled. “Shit. My car’s at Chevvy’s. Let me call Brent.”

  He headed back into the bathroom and swiped his cell from the countertop. Stephanie, however, had seen enough. Had heard enough. She spun on her heel and headed for the living room.

  “Where are you going?” he called after her.

  “Back to the inn.”

  “But—”

  “Just tell me how to get there.”

  “…always so damned stubborn.” Miles appeared in the hallway, face flushed with one hand holding his cell and the other keeping his towel safely in place. He scowled at her as she slung her purse over one shoulder. “If you’d wait just a minute, I’ll go with you.”

  “Aw, you know what?” Stephanie tipped her head to the side. “It’s probably for the best you don’t.”

  Without waiting for his response, she marched to the front door, threw it open, stepped on through, then pulled it shut behind her—as hard as she could. An enraged shout sounded inside. It triggered a miniscule spark of satisfaction for her as she stormed off the porch and out onto the long, winding tree-lined driveway that lay ahead.

  Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Why the hell had she thought she could trust Miles? He was male, after all. And men were self-serving pigs. Hadn’t the last ten years with Liam taught her that? Now here she was, making the walk of shame.

  …You falling asleep was probably for the best…

  Without slowing her pace, she dug out her cell phone and checked for messages. Just one from Becka, saying she was sorry to have to pass o
n their planned day together but Joe and two of the girls were sick. Stephanie was more relieved than disappointed, not being in the best of moods for hosting her sister. Plus, now she wouldn’t feel compelled to tell Becka how she’d nearly scored for the first time since her divorce and failed miserably. Or that she’d actually convinced her drunken self that Miles would ever see her as more than a friend. In fact, no one had to know about any of it.

  Since it was for the best, and all.

  “Come on,” she growled as her navigation app took its sweet time loading. No doubt the trees were interfering with her cell’s signal. She glanced up to see how much farther she had to go before reaching a break in the trees and found herself nearly to the road already.

  And directly across the street stood the Checkerberry Inn.

  A triumphant bark of laughter bubbled from her lips. See? She didn’t need Miles to help her get back. In fact, she didn’t need anyone.

  No one at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Miles sat behind his computer, scowling at its screen when yet another knock sounded at his office door. A reluctant look up found Kayla in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against its frame. Damn, what was it with the women around here today? He hadn’t been at his desk five minutes before a snarky text from Amber arrived (“Heard you were with another woman last night. Hope you got her name right.”), then Ruby had come by to make sure he was feeling better (“because you’re never this late, dear. Are you sure everything is okay?”), followed by Maddie stopping in to pick a fight with him over the cap he’d put on her produce expenditures (like it was his fault there was a drought out west jacking the prices up again?), and now Kayla.

  Of course, none of that would have bothered him if Stephanie hadn’t stormed out on him this morning. And why? Because he’d been a complete gentleman.

  Stupid me.

  “You at a good stopping point?” Kayla asked.

  “What do you want, Kayla?”

  “Oh, no.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can grouch at your grandmother and scold Maddie, but don’t you dare use that tone with me, buddy.”