All They Ever Wanted

by Tracy Solheim

  “That’s sweet of her,” Will said as they rounded the corner onto Main Street.

  “It is sweet of her,” Miles argued. “There’s no reason for you to be such a dick.”

  They stopped at the corner across from the Java Jolt and Will gave him a sharp look. “I wasn’t being a dick, Miles. I meant what I said: It is sweet. The woman even gave you a genuine smile a few minutes ago. Hell, I didn’t even think it was possible for her to make eye contact, much less grin. Whatever you two have been up to, it seems to be good for her.” The light changed and they both started across the street. “I’d say it’s been good for you, too, but that stick is back up your ass again, so never mind.”

  Big raindrops began to splatter on the pavement and they both picked up their jog. Miles pondered what his friend had said. The last few nights with Lori had been good. Damn good. Miles chocked it up to the fact that Lori was a willing and very accommodating distraction. They were just scratching an itch until their paths dissected again. So why then did he feel so anxious about her slipping away?

  Will was right that Lori was starting to come out of her shell. She was still stingy about the details of her life before she arrived in Chances Inlet, but certainly not with anything else. Her dedication to his mother’s B and B went above and beyond even that of a paid employee. Not to mention that she went out of her way to be a lifeline for Cassidy, a kid that might have stolen her grandmother’s ring. And she was certainly not stingy with her body. Miles’ junk tightened up in his shorts just thinking about what she could do with her hands and her mouth.

  “I know you’re considering this thing with Greer.” Will’s words were like a slap upside the head, refocusing Miles to the dilemma that he’d been avoiding these past few days. “But I wish you’d factor your own happiness into the equation. You think achieving your life’s goals is the only thing that will fulfill you, but trust me, there’s more out there that can make you happy. Politics is stressful enough. Your relationships shouldn’t be.”

  The rain began falling in earnest as they stopped under the long awning leading to the entrance to the gym. The three-story brick warehouse formerly housed an iron works for local shipbuilders, but its name was the only indication of its previous life. A group of former trainers for professional athletes had reconfigured the building to accommodate a state-of-the-art fitness center—complete with an Olympic-sized swimming pool. The Ship’s Iron attracted visitors from up and down the East Coast with its spa vacations and wellness boot camps. Miles’ mother even offered a temporary pass to the gym with many of her B and B guest packages.

  Miles stood on the sidewalk, hands on his hips. “I told you, Connelly, I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m not like you and Gavin. I never will be again.”

  Will shook his head in disgust. “For such an educated jerk, you really can be an idiot sometimes. Your feelings aren’t something you can turn on and off with a switch. Take it from one who tried and failed. All I’m saying is that maybe a spontaneous relationship—like the one you have with Lori right now—makes more sense than the arrangement you’re dooming yourself to with Greer.” He yanked the door open. “But you’re going to do what you’re going to do. Just because you’re compartmentalizing your actions under the guise of keeping some integrity in politics doesn’t make it the right decision.”

  His friend stormed into the gym, leaving Miles standing alone on the sidewalk. He stared down the street as the rain beat out a steady rhythm on the canvas above his head. Will was way off base. What he and Lori had was not a relationship—spontaneous or otherwise. It was just sex and fun for both of them and he was confident she felt the same way. The feeling of unease he felt whenever he left her was just concern for her circumstances, that was all. Miles was worried that whatever she was hiding from could hurt her somehow. Their relationship—or however a person defined it—was as innocent as that. Will didn’t know what he was talking about. The big lug was just trying to flex his brain before he hit the gym.

  Still, Miles wondered whether there was a way to protect Lori. He wanted to solve her problems for her. After all, when their fling was over, she’d still be a woman he respected. Miles would do the same for any of his friends, whether he was sleeping with them or not, he told himself. All he needed was for her to open up to him and then he would do whatever it took to help her.

  The rain came down harder and Miles made a silent vow that no matter how crazy his campaign schedule, he’d find time to help Lori. Because that’s what he was in the business of doing: helping people. He’d just have to be extra persuasive with her tonight so that he could ferret out her secret. His shorts got tight just thinking about it and he bit back a smile as he headed toward the door of the gym.

  “Miles!”

  Son. Of. A. Bitch. The sound of Governor Rossi’s voice was enough to douse Miles’ lightened mood, not to mention his burgeoning hard-on. Coy held a giant golf umbrella over the governor’s head as they both made their way from the gubernatorial Town Car toward the gym.

  “Governor.” Miles strode to the end of the portico to meet his boss. “I thought you had a breakfast in Wilmington?”

  The governor extended a hand. “Not until nine. I thought that since I had to be up before the birds, I’d leave a few minutes earlier and try to catch a private word with you. Coy tells me you have a full schedule today.”

  Not full enough that he couldn’t have met the governor in Wilmington, especially since he had a Rotary luncheon there later that day. Miles shot Coy a look, but the little shit didn’t back down from his stare. His cocky body man had likely lied to the governor just to get more face time. Miles wondered if he’d been that bold when he was starting out in politics. Probably. He was beginning to realize that ambition was a pretty potent drug.

  “Why don’t we head over to the campaign office?” Miles said, gesturing toward the torpedo factory located catty-corner to the gym. “Bernice won’t be in yet, but I’m sure Coy wouldn’t mind running over to the Java Jolt and getting us some coffee.”

  “That would definitely hit the spot,” the governor said, taking the umbrella from Coy. The kid had the nerve to spear Miles with a look, but he was smart enough to take the hint and do what he was told, sprinting up the two blocks to fetch some coffee.

  Miles punched in the code on the lock to the office door and ushered the mayor into the large open room, littered with campaign posters and yard signs. Several desks were lined up in rows for the volunteers who came in to do whatever needed to be done that day. He gestured to the smaller office in the back—the one that had belonged to his father. “I don’t know who’ll be arriving when, so if you want this conversation to actually stay private, why don’t we talk back there.”

  The governor immediately headed for Miles’ father’s chair as Miles pulled the door closed behind him. Miles bit back a protest and leaned a hip against the credenza instead. At least standing, he could maintain as much power in what he sensed would be a confrontational private chat.

  “Sorry to interrupt your run,” the governor said. “I know how you competitive athletes get a high from that. Never understood that concept myself, though.” He leaned back in the chair. “Golf is much more my speed. And don’t underestimate how much you can get accomplished politically out there on the course.”

  At sixty-one, Bob Rossi was in adequate shape, despite a thickening midsection. The guy was nearly six feet tall with a full head of dark hair, sprinkled with some gray. He commanded a room when he entered it with his deep baritone voice and his unique Mediterranean coloring. Governor Rossi had been called a “man’s man” but he was definitely a favorite with the ladies, too.

  Miles wasn’t sure where the governor was heading with this “chat.” “I’ve played golf with you before, sir,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. “You’re as competitive on the links as you are in the political arena.”

  “I
’m competitive in everything I do, McAlister.” He propped his feet up on the desk and Miles tried not to cringe. “And so are you. We’re a lot alike, you and I. We’re both goal-oriented and very driven to succeed. We do whatever it takes.”

  Miles’ breath stilled in his lungs. He wasn’t sure he’d describe himself as doing “whatever it takes,” especially if it meant harming others along the way. “Not if it means taking this campaign negative.”

  “Grow up, Miles,” the governor said. “This isn’t Cub Scouts. You’re playing with the big boys now. You can’t control every aspect of this campaign. Faye Rich’s party is taking your father’s story national with a few well-placed blogs this weekend.” He raised his eyebrows when Miles flinched reflexively. “Yeah, the local media will continue to pick at the story as long as it’s a part of the news cycle. Do you think that won’t keep your polling points from free-falling?”

  Miles’ temples began to pound. He dropped his chin to his chest. This whole process was insane. Why did people care about something hasty his father had done with his privately held company? The creative bookkeeping hadn’t hurt anyone but the McAlister family. “Whatever happened to the issues?” he argued. “I’m a huge advocate for the small businesses in this region and for fair pay for workers. Voters care about that; I know they do because I’ve freakin’ asked them.”

  The governor laughed sardonically. “People don’t vote on the issues any longer. They want leaders with personality. Faye Rich has got personality in spades and the voters are eating it up.” He dropped his feet to the ground. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices: Go on the offensive and attack Faye’s integrity or do something to refocus voters on something other than your father. Let Greer help you, son.”

  The governor’s use of the word “son” made Miles’ chest squeeze and he felt as though he was suffocating. He wanted to open the door to the small office, but he could see through the window that Coy was making his way inside. The governor stood up, tugging at each sleeve of his suit jacket.

  “She’s been groomed for this all of her life,” he continued. “Hell, if she had any political aspirations of her own, I’d be backing her for this seat. But she’d rather be the woman behind the man, just like her mama. Don’t get me wrong, Greer will be an asset to your career. She has an agenda she’d like to pursue to make this country better; she just needs a platform to do it. You’re not the only one riding my coattails to higher office, McAlister, but you’re the one she picked. You should be flattered.”

  Miles felt anything but flattered. He suspected Greer chose him because she was being forced by her father to marry and he was the only one she trusted. But this was getting ridiculous. “Governor, I respect your daughter tremendously, but I don’t love her. And I never will.”

  “I know you like women, McAlister. Believe me, I had that checked out years ago and I had you vetted again before we embarked on this campaign.”

  Bile rose up in Miles’ throat at his boss’ words. He’d heard whispers of the governor checking out his opponents, but never people on his own staff.

  “Greer’s mother and I married for political advantage,” he continued. “Hell, Hillary and Bill managed to stay married while they each pursued careers in politics. Stop looking at me like I’m proposing something from some damn Gothic novel. You could do a lot worse than my daughter. I’ve invested too much energy into shaping you as a contender to let this campaign be pissed away because you want to rest on your honor. That doesn’t work in politics today. This campaign needs to change its direction to something voters will be interested in. Talk to Greer. And for God’s sake, make a decision about this before it’s too late to recoup from your slide.”

  He reached up and squeezed Miles’ shoulder as he passed by him.

  “I need you in Congress, son. Hell, I need you in the White House. Let’s win this.”

  Miles wasn’t sure how long he stood there, breathing deeply in through his nose and out of his mouth, trying to get his heart rate under control. It took him several long moments before he could step away from the credenza. Unfortunately, he worried it might take him a lot longer to regain control of his political career. But he was determined not to let the governor—or the media—dictate his campaign. Staring at his father’s empty chair, Miles prayed a silent promise to his dad that he would win this election on his own terms.

  EIGHTEEN

  “You look different,” Ginger said before taking a sip of lemonade.

  The storms from earlier in the day had passed through town, leaving behind a thick, muggy sky. Rather than meander along Main Street, many of the guests had returned to the B and B for afternoon tea. Lori tried to appear normal in front of Ginger’s prying eyes as she frantically arranged cupcakes on a tray bound for the library and the demanding crowd.

  The truth was she did feel different: lighter, more carefree. She hadn’t been this relaxed in months—maybe even years. And she owed it all to Miles. The past few nights spent with him had been like a balm to her cynical soul. Just when she’d given up on men, along came her very own Dudley Do-Right with his justice-for-all character.

  She should have listened to that voice deep inside her and run from him as far and as fast as she could before the muck that followed her tarnished all that was good about him. Except her body was sinfully glad that she’d ignored that voice. She felt the heat of the blush staining her cheeks. Miles was anything but a mild-mannered Boy Scout when it came to sex. Her body responded to his like it had to no other man. The feeling was heady, arousing, and confusing.

  Lori needed to move on, to stay one step ahead, yet she was lingering in Chances Inlet longer than was wise. She kept telling herself it was because of her grandmother’s missing ring, but she knew better. This thing with Miles made her long for a second chance at the life she’d thrown away. That second chance could never be with Miles; she knew that. Even if she wasn’t tainted by her past, he’d vowed never to love with his heart again. In a sudden burst of clarity, Lori wanted it all: love included.

  “Diesel wants to know what’s taking you so long,” Ginger said softly.

  Lori glanced around the kitchen. Patricia was in the library with the guests. “Patricia still needs me.”

  “Cassidy and I can handle afternoon tea for the next couple of weeks. The guests will have to settle for baked goods that aren’t homemade. And I’m sure Patricia can find someone to come in and clean.”

  “Wow, good to know I’m so indispensible.”

  Ginger sighed. “You’re not. I’m sorry. That sounded awful. But you’re my friend and I want to see you somewhere you don’t have to hide. Where you can just be happy.”

  She couldn’t be angry at Ginger. Lori wanted those things, too. She just wanted them here in Chances Inlet now.

  “Oh, there it is,” Patricia said as she hobbled in using one crutch. She picked up Emily’s steeple hat with its sparkly pink cone and long veil of tulle. “That child leaves a trail of her things all over this place.” She shook her head. “They’re at Duke University Hospital already, and of course, she just remembered her crown. Emily is beside herself. Kate doesn’t need that kind of stress right now.”

  Lori glanced at both women. “Is everything okay?” She’d just assumed that Kate was going to Durham to see a patient, but from the looks Ginger and Patricia were exchanging, she wasn’t so sure.

  Patricia hesitated before breaking into a nervous grin. “Kate is having in vitro fertilization tomorrow. She and Alden want a second child and the usual way just wasn’t working this time. She doesn’t want everyone in town to know,” Patricia explained. “Just in case . . .”

  Ginger patted her future mother-in-law’s hand. “Soon you’ll have lots of grandchildren leaving their toys all around the B and B.”

  Patricia smiled at Ginger before turning her attention back to Lori. “But there’s no reason you shouldn’t know. After a
ll, you’re practically family.”

  You’re practically family.

  Patricia’s words ricocheted around in Lori’s head, making her dizzy. She reached for the counter to steady herself.

  “Lori, are you okay?” Ginger’s voice sounded as if it were coming through a tunnel. She found herself being edged onto one of the high stools at the island.

  “Here, drink this,” Patricia was saying, wrapping Lori’s fingers around a damp glass filled with cool lemonade. Lori swallowed the sweet drink and the spinning in her head began to recede.

  “You poor thing.” Patricia gently rubbed a hand up and down Lori’s back. “You’ve been working too hard since the accident.”

  If only that were it, Lori thought to herself. The truth was, she’d become comfortable in Chances Inlet. While the reminders of her previous life hovered in the recesses of her mind, here she could be that woman she was before the mess with her father. Living and working in the inn was like slipping on a familiar pair of shoes, ones she could be herself in. This time when Lori slipped off in the middle of the night, she’d be leaving people who were “practically family” behind. Running kept getting more and more difficult.

  “Ginger, would you mind taking those cupcakes into the library?” Patricia leaned against the stool beside Lori while Ginger carried the tray out of the room. “Tell me what I can do to help you,” she said.

  “I need to leave soon.”

  Patricia let out a heavy sigh. “I figured that was coming. Will you be all right? Do you need money? References? Anything?”

  Lori shook her head. “It’ll be better for everyone if no one finds out I was ever here. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Of course not.” Patricia took Lori’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re safe here. You always will be. I just wish there was something more we could do so you didn’t have to go. Maybe Lamar could help you? Or Miles? He knows people who are well connected.”