Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  She declined, and he replaced the coffee and instead came to the table with two clean spoons while she opened the remaining container of Cinnamon Garnet.

  “I only promised you a kiss, remember?” She picked up the spoon and plunged it into the lightly pink ice cream.

  “But I also got a dinner out of the deal. So maybe I can pull a little bit more from you?”

  “You’ve already gotten quite a bit tonight.”

  Miranda slipped the spoon into her mouth, and Prent was treated to her happy noise as she savored the ice cream.

  “I haven’t had this since the concerts this summer.”

  “Maybe I’ll have to hit Goose up for more of this stuff,” he said.

  “Plan on continuing to use it to get your way with me?”

  “I’ll do just about anything to do that.”

  She attacked the pint with her spoon, scooping out a very large chunk of ice cream.

  “Why does this feel like we’re dating again?” she asked, not looking at him before she ate.

  “Because we are? And that’s what scaring you?”

  “We’re not dating.”

  “We’re sitting alone in the kitchen at my office, sharing a pint of your favorite ice cream after I took you to dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. And you let me kiss you again today. What do you call that?”

  Her mildly snarky mood vanished.

  “Wish I knew,” she whispered and placed her spoon on the table.

  8

  Prent pushed the ice cream away. Turning to face her, he reached for one of her hands, expecting her to resist. She didn’t.

  “Miranda, you asked me earlier today why I was scared, and I told you. I’m scared shitless that every time I see you, every time you let me hold your hand, every time I kiss you—two times in the past week, a record for me lately—it will be the last. And I know why you’re scared. You’re afraid of going down this road again with me. You’re afraid that I’m using you to polish whatever reputation I still have or to keep my uncle happy.”

  “I am afraid of making the same mistakes again. But as far as your uncle goes, he certainly didn’t look very happy to see me today.”

  “You know what he’s like.”

  “Yeah, grumpy, but he wasn’t good with me being the clinic doctor. It was a little like the same vibe I got from Hannah.”

  “Hannah gave you flak?”

  “Not exactly. She just took me aside and more or less asked whether I could do this. I gave her a similar I’m a professional speech.”

  Prent looked down at their clasped hands.

  “I know the thing you fear the most is that we’ll end up in the same stupid place again. That I’ll go off and leave you, that disaster will strike, that we’re destined to fail. You’re afraid the same thing could happen again.”

  Miranda turned in her seat and squarely faced him.

  “That last thing you said is exactly why I’m scared.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to relive that. I know what it’s like to be that fool, to suffer the consequences of that decision. I’d never put you—or myself—through that again.”

  She shuddered and seemed to be struggling with the next thing to say, then released his hand. Prent sat back in his seat and sighed.

  “Please tell me that something has changed between us in the past few weeks. Or just the past few hours, for that matter.”

  “I’d say that’s pretty undeniable.” She dropped her head to look at her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

  He put a finger under her chin and brought her eyes up to meet his.

  “So do you think that we can keep doing things like this? Dinner? Ice cream? Maybe a kiss or more?”

  “Okay, now that definitely sounds like dating again.”

  “So what if it is? Does that really sound so bad?”

  Miranda froze, and he thought he saw another opportunity to kiss her. But as he leaned toward her, she rose from the table and moved to the opposite side of the room along the dark window. Beyond her and into the night he could see a faint glow and recognized it as the spotlight which was directed up the trunk of the Old Oak.

  Silently cursing that he’d overstepped some invisible boundary, Prent put the lid back on the ice cream, stood, and put the carton back in the freezer. He pulled an untouched carton from the freezer’s depths and put it on the table, ready for Miranda since he was certain she was about to leave.

  Miranda glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes landed on the carton before he saw her face soften into something approaching a smile.

  “Actually… it sounds really nice,” she said so lowly that at first he thought he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on her face, Prent walked across the room until he was standing before her.

  “Are you… are you saying we could start over?” he asked in an unsteady voice.

  Miranda inhaled deeply, pressed her lips together, and nodded.

  “I’m willing to try. But you need to understand that even though I haven’t been able to tell you to get out of my life, I’m not over what happened. I couldn’t handle going through—again—” and she choked on her words.

  He finally dared to touch her, and Miranda allowed him to pull her into his arms. He held her close but not tightly, knowing that the moment was delicate as was she and that her pain still caused this brittleness of spirit and lingering distrust. He saw the courage it had taken her to get to this point and tried to pull that same strength from himself as he wrestled for the next thing to do or say.

  But he didn’t need to do that; instead, Miranda buried her face in his chest, signaling him to simply hold her, which he was more than happy to do.

  He looked out the window and saw the Old Oak, still alive and vibrant even in the darkness of winter, spectacularly lit by that one spotlight. The snow swirled in the beam of light, looking strangely joyful and mirroring the swelling hope and desire inside him.

  The site of that beacon of stability and tradition gave him an odd confidence, and Prent kissed the top of Miranda’s head, hoping she might open up for more.

  She did by tilting her head back, inviting him to her lips. Prent slowly accepted, deliberately holding back, knowing that if he allowed his passion full rein that he might try to devour her.

  This kiss was like the one earlier in his office, slow and sweet, and she relaxed in his arms. Encouraged, he gently swept his tongue across her lips and into her mouth as Miranda allowed him entry. Unable to resist the temptation of her response, Prent slid his hands around her waist and lingered there at the edge of her sweater.

  She broke the kiss but did not pull away, and he sensed she was waiting for him to extend the intimacy. Prent dared to slip his hands under her clothes until his palms were flat against her back.

  “Can we continue this in my office?” he whispered against her forehead.

  She shook her head.

  “I know what happens when we get on that couch, especially after eating at Maggioli’s,” she said, putting her head against his chest. “I’m not ready for that.”

  “I don’t want to make love to you,” he blurted, causing her to pull her head from his body and give him an incredulous look.

  “Did you really just say that?”

  “Okay, that didn’t come out quite right.”

  “So what exactly did you mean to say?” she asked, glancing at the growing bulge in his pants.

  “That I know you’re not ready for that and that’s not something I expect or am asking of you tonight. I do want to make love to you, Miranda. Hell, that’s all I’ve dreamed about for the past two years. But not here on the couch in some little gropefest.”

  To his relief, she laughed.

  “Is that what those were called when we did it in your office?” She slipped her arms around his waist. She pulled him closer, almost as though she were teasing him by brushing against his arousal.

  “Quickies, short bangs,” he shrugged and noted
she kept smiling as he rattled off various names for their hasty sexual encounters.

  He cradled her head in his hands and looked directly into her eyes, which seemed clouded by a mixture of weariness and, he was thrilled to see, desire.

  “When you let me make love to you again, it’s not going to be here. It’s going to be somewhere wonderful and quiet and special. Because I know that even though you just gave me the best Christmas present ever by saying we could try again, I know I still have a long way to go before you let me not only back into your bed but back into your heart.

  “I am not going to screw this up this time, I promise you that. Because I’m here to stay. I love you, and I want to marry you, and however long it takes to get you back to yes, and I mean yes to marriage and not just a roll in the hay, I’m willing to wait. The best day of my life was the day I met you, and the worst day was when I broke your heart and lost you. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m going to prove it to you, Miranda Chaplin. Because I love you.”

  “And I—” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

  “You don’t have to say it just to say it—”

  “But you know it’s true. I can’t hide it, so why not let you hear it? I love you. I still love you. You knew it that day in the cemetery. You knew it tonight when you tempted me to go out to eat with you. You’ve known that’s why I haven’t been able to let you go, to tell you to go to hell, as you keep saying. And it’s only fair that you get to hear me say I love you, after all you just said to me.”

  Prent wanted to ask her right then and there to marry him but again feared the answer he would receive.

  She wasn’t ready. She was still too afraid.

  He kissed her lightly on the lips and enveloped her in a tight hug, which she reciprocated. He felt alive inside for the first time in so long, like a small, glowing flame had be re-lit inside his soul.

  “Let’s visit that couch,” he said as his chin rested atop her head. He felt her tense. “Trust me.”

  She nodded, and he took her by the hand to lead her into his office next door.

  “Wait!” she cried as they were about to depart the room.

  Miranda grabbed the carton of ice cream from the table and put it back into the freezer.

  “Nice to see you have your priorities straight,” he said.

  “And since when are you one of my priorities?”

  He grabbed her about the waist and kissed her hard, releasing her just as quickly.

  “Since about right now, I am happy to say,” he said, leaving her breathless. “Because even if you lied about still being in love with me, I know I’ll have to beat you off with a stick now that you know I have access to that ice cream.”

  “I didn’t lie. And maybe I can get the ice cream using my own contacts.”

  He pulled her into his darkened office. “Yeah, and I’m that contact.”

  Leaving her side briefly, Prent went to the corner of his desk and turned on a lamp. He then led her to the couch by both hands.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked warily.

  “I’m showing you that you can trust me,” he said, falling back onto the couch. “And you can get some rest while I do that.”

  He held his arms out to her, inviting Miranda to sit and snuggle beside him.

  “Fall asleep on your chest?”

  “Yes,” he said, remembering the times she had done just that. “That’s all, nothing more. Take a little nap before you hit the road home.”

  Miranda sat beside him, pulled her feet up onto the couch, and put her head on his shoulder. Prent stroked her hair a few times, kissed the top of her head, and placed his arm along the side of his body. After a few minutes he noticed that Miranda’s breathing had fallen into a pattern he recognized and he knew she was asleep.

  How long, how tortuously and agonizingly long, it had taken him to get to this point from that hot, hateful day in Perryville. From that white heat of loss to having Miranda snuggled to him on a dark, cold night.

  He didn’t know what the next step was; ask her out as though they were newly dating? What the hell was the etiquette for dating your former fiancée? He’d never had a plan, only the goal of getting her back. Before he drifted off into a blissful sleep, Prent fleetingly thought of asking Minerva for advice on how to handle his happy and unfamiliar dilemma.

  9

  “Is there any particular reason why Mom is threatening to disown you?” Maisie asked in a voice mail the following morning. “She said she just got off the phone with you and claims you’ve lost your mind and can’t imagine any daughter of hers making such a mistake again. Give me a call and clear this up before we both have to go over there for New Year’s Day dinner.”

  On Saturday Miranda was exhausted after her big night out in Littleham. Even though she and Prent hadn’t been physically intimate beyond some intense kissing, the emotional intimacy of the evening had left her in a state of happy yet tired shock.

  Their evening had come to an abrupt and unromantic end when Kurt Oakes had arrived around midnight and discovered them slumbering on Prent’s couch. Claiming he was on his way to the all-night drugstore to get something, he had dropped by because he saw a faint light on—but probably because he noticed two cars still in the lot and had recognized one of them as Prent’s vehicle.

  Miranda was angered by Kurt’s allegations (he’d accused them of having sex in a public place).

  “We’re fully clothed! We came back here after eating dinner and fell asleep,” Prent had said to his uncle.

  “Like I’m supposed to believe that!” Kurt scoffed. “I found you two in each other’s arms in the dark!”

  “And asleep,” Miranda had added as she rubbed her eyes.

  Kurt had always been a jerk, but that day, the first time she’d seen Kurt in years, she’d detected a level of outright hostility directed at her by the man. That was a completely new wrinkle in whatever relationship she’d had with him, and it concerned and insulted her. Miranda had always suspected that Kurt thought her on some level a fool for being involved with Prent, but she’d never liked how he treated his nephew.

  Even though Prent continued to point out their fully attired state (“She’s wearing a wool cardigan and turtleneck! Not exactly sexy!”), Kurt continued to make accusations and bitch at them, effectively running her off the premises. Prent apologized (and Kurt got on his case for that since he overheard the apology), walked her to her car, and they parted in the cold with a few quick kisses. He wanted to take her to lunch, and she said for him to call her so they could make plans for Saturday afternoon.

  They weren’t exactly dating or starting a new relationship. They were trying to pick up where they’d left off. Miranda wasn’t sure that could be done, especially since she hadn’t had the courage to tell him her own secret.

  Now that they were tentatively back together, Miranda knew she would soon have to make that painful revelation and possibly risk the final rupture in their relationship.

  Miranda returned Maisie’s call with a sense of not exactly foreboding but annoyance.

  “You and Prent? Again?” Maisie’s tone wasn’t confrontational but laced with surprise.

  “He’s been after me all this time, and he finally got me.”

  “And to what extent did he get you?” Maisie asked with a giggle.

  “Not what you think.” Miranda explained her very long afternoon and evening of the previous day.

  “You did it on the couch again?”

  “No! We did not—wait—I never told you we—how—”

  “I overheard you two talking one time about going to Maggioli’s and then back to his office for further discussions about wedding preparations. I remember one of you said that if you two kept having so many discussions, the couch might need to be replaced. I figured it out.”

  “Last night was just kissing. That’s it.”

  Maisie snorted. “Right.”

  “We were fully clothed!” Miranda protested, realizing she s
ounded just like Prent arguing with his uncle.

  “That has to be one of the lamest denials ever.”

  “It’s true and—”

  “Look, I don’t really care that much if it’s true,” interrupted Maisie. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again. In fact, I hated that and wanted to watch Prent die a slow death. So I take it this is why Mom went nuclear on you this morning?”

  “Of course.”

  “So what’s still there for you that you can’t stay away?” Maisie asked. “Sorry to be so blunt, but this is the guy who broke your heart in the worst possible way.”

  Miranda took in a long breath, feeling stupid and like she was on some kind of reality show where she was encouraged to confess her deepest desires and secrets.

  “I still love him.”

  “You just figured this out? What changed?”

  “My willingness to acknowledge that and give him another chance.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “Because I didn’t want it to be true. It would’ve been easier.”

  “If you’ve been in love with him all this time, all you’ve done is complicate things even more.”

  “You could say that,” Miranda said. “Except—” She paused, astonished at what she was about to say.

  “Except what?”

  “I’m really happy,” Miranda gushed. “Now I feel like an idiot for resisting this for so long.”

  “Or do you feel like an idiot for another reason?” Maisie probed. “Like giving in when you have lingering doubt? There’s no fault in trying to protect yourself.”

  “I have no doubt he loves me, Maisie.”

  “But consider his track record, sis. Aren’t you worried he’ll go off again and leave you or do something else stupid to leave you a mess?”

  “He’s had over two years to do that very thing. He’s been wonderful to me since the wedding day. He’s matured. And I’ve been—well, I’ve been a bitch.”

  “Miranda, you more than earned your outrage. But people will be shocked that you two are back together. And speaking of outrage, how did you leave it with Mom?”