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

by Jennifer Bramseth

  She followed in her car to his place, where he had already arrived a few minutes ahead of her. When he greeted her at the front door, he was dangling a key.

  “For you,” he said. “I figure you’ll be needing it.”

  She grabbed it and was about to thank him when she heard a vehicle rumbling up the drive behind her. Miranda turned to see a pickup truck loaded with lumber pulling up to the front of the house.

  “Oh, I forgot they were coming today,” Prent said and walked out onto the front porch, closing the door behind him.

  “Who are they?”

  “Carpenters I hired to build the tree house down by that creek.”

  “You’re really going to do that?”

  “Of course,” he said, looking at her with surprise. “I promised you that I would build one someday, and I decided that I needed to get that done so Peter can enjoy it, hopefully starting this spring. And I’m sure we’ll find ways to have our own private picnics out there, just like we always talked about.”

  Prent kissed her quickly and told her to go inside while he had a brief conversation with the carpenters. After dropping her overnight bag inside the front door, Miranda headed straight for the living room. The hearth was dark, but there was no need for a fire since the day was warm although she hoped that later Prent would build one as the cold of a winter’s evening descended upon the Bluegrass.

  She took a deep breath and could smell that wonderfully smoky smell everywhere—her hair, her clothes, the air in the room. It was comforting and homey, and it hit her as she dropped onto the couch that she was home. Miranda pulled the blanket from the back of the couch onto her, snuggled against a large pillow, and fell asleep wondering what they might have for dinner.

  Prent was disappointed to find Miranda fast asleep when he finished speaking with the carpenters. Realizing she needed her rest, he did not disturb her and poked around in the freezer, making sure the frozen pizzas were there. After checking on her and enjoying the simple pleasure of watching Miranda sleep, Prent placed himself on the floor beside the couch and fell asleep with his arm under his head, not wanting to be parted from her for any length of time.

  He remained in that position for a few hours, awakening when he got a chill. Seeing that she had turned her face to the couch and was still unconscious, Prent started a fire and started the oven for the pizzas, hoping that the activity would gradually awaken Miranda. His movements had the desired effect.

  As he was getting a frozen pizza from the freezer, Miranda appeared in the kitchen.

  “Thanks for letting me sleep.” She moved to his side to kiss his cheek.

  Prent tossed the pizza box on the countertop and put his hands around Miranda’s waist, pulling her close to him. “Been waiting hours to hold you like this,” he said. “Too much time in public all day.”

  “And too much time away from each other,” she said as he dipped his head to hers and claimed her lips.

  How long had it been since they’d been together like this? He was getting tired of that question floating through his mind every time he thought about, kissed, or made love to Miranda. Following the long separation after their nonwedding, he felt like he needed the rest of his life to make up for lost time with this incredible and forgiving woman.

  He held her tighter, needing to feel the warmth of her soft body against his, still craving the affirmation that she was really back in his life. Prent broke the kiss, put his lips against her temple, and inhaled the spicy aroma of the char which lingered in her long brown hair; he’d never found the fragrance so intoxicating and arousing until that moment. The earthy, primal scent seemed to mark her as his own, a sign and a promise that she belonged in that place.

  Prent broke away, grabbed the pizza box, and threw it back into the freezer. He took her hand and pulled her to the stairs next to the kitchen, with Miranda laughing all the way as they ascended to the second floor. The master bedroom was dark, save for the light that filtered into the space from the hall, and Prent cradled Miranda’s head in his hands as she put her hands around his waist and they stood together by the bed.

  “I love seeing you in this room,” he whispered. “I love being with you here. And someday, I plan on waking up every day of my life with you in this very place, watching the sun rise over those hills and making love to you before we plan our day together. I can’t wait for those days, Miranda, and I can only pray you feel the same way.”

  “I do, Prent,” she said softly. “I want those things too. And I’ll be ready when you ask again.”

  He kissed her again and relished the feeling of Miranda untucking his shirt and putting her warm hands on his back. In the next minute they had stripped each other and were in bed, with hands exploring, caressing, stroking.

  Prent claimed her lips, tasting and discovering until they had to break apart for air. He left her gasping, the sound further fueling his desire as his mouth found her neck, then traveled to her breasts where he took his time as his tongue traced and played along her taut nipples, eliciting her moans and sighs. Propping himself up on one elbow, he moved to her side and slid his hand lower and lower along her body.

  “Prent…,” she moaned, with the back of her head buried deep into the pillow as he stroked her folds.

  Her hips met his hand, and Prent enjoyed watching her chest heave and her head turn from side to side as he continued his sensual attentions. He thought he had Miranda completely under his control and was thus shocked when he felt her hand upon his length.

  She gently pumped him, but he needed no stimulation; he was hard and ready to take her. His hand slacked its movements, and he saw a sly smile on Miranda’s lips as she continued to stroke him. Needing no further encouragement, he moved on top of her and slipped inside her easily.

  Miranda wrapped her legs around him at once, pulling him as close as they could be. Prent loved it when she did that and thought of the sensual movement as completing their union. He sensed that she was still tired, despite her nap, and even though every instinct made him want to move quickly and claim his own desire, he drew out their lovemaking.

  They slowly climbed for several long, languid minutes until Miranda came suddenly but not hard, and then with a few strong movements, he climaxed as well.

  She seemed completely drained by the experience and felt like nothing more than a doll in his arms. He rolled from her form and pulled her to his chest where she was soon asleep. Yet sleep did not claim him, and he was happy for it, as he wanted to continue to enjoy this sweet and sacred experience.

  His mind raced with plans and possibilities about his son and about proposing; the two things had become entwined in his mind. A new problem haunting his thoughts recently had been his uncle’s words about the terms of his father’s will—that clause about money and marriage.

  He had been wrestling with whether to tell Miranda about it in light of Kurt’s recent accusation that Miranda might be after his money.

  After a lot of thought, Prent had decided not to reveal the will’s provision.

  First, even though he hoped they could marry as soon as possible, there was no guarantee that they could get married by June, which was the deadline by which he could wed per the will’s terms and finally come into his complete inheritance.

  Miranda had recently told him again she didn’t want to know the details of his financial situation; her position on that hadn’t changed since the early days of their relationship. He knew that eventually they’d have to have a serious money discussion, probably after they were engaged.

  But that’s not where they were yet, and he was going to respect her wishes and not bring up the topic. He knew she was already stressed about her professional situation and going into practice with Brad Byrd. Adding more money issues on top of that wasn’t something he was going to burden her with.

  But most importantly, he didn’t want to tell Miranda about the provision because he didn’t want it in the back of her mind when he proposed.

  Miranda
wasn’t interested in his money—he knew what those kinds of women were like and Miranda Chaplin definitely wasn’t one of them. But he still didn’t want the mere knowledge of the inheritance to taint the moment when he again asked her to be his wife.

  This time he knew there would be no regrets, no no-shows or second thoughts, and he wanted nothing to stand in their way.

  They would make it to the altar, come hell or high water.

  23

  “Thanks for coming with me, Maisie.”

  “No problem. Although you should’ve let me drive.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you just passed the courthouse again.”

  Miranda muttered a curse and began looking for a place to turn around as it began to snow.

  After learning that Judge Forrest had ordered the grandmother and Peter into court for the cheek swab, she’d been a nervous wreck for the past week. Prent was going to finally see his son for the first time but not under the best of circumstances.

  They feared the grandmother had become attached to the boy and had been delaying the DNA test, perhaps to enhance her own chances at getting custody. Considering these developments, Prent had directed his attorney to do whatever it took to get paternity established as soon as possible.

  Miranda had rescheduled several appointments to be able to attend the hearing and support Prent. But she also knew she needed some support that day, so she’d asked Maisie to come along.

  Miranda circled the Van Winkle County Courthouse, an imposing stone edifice that loomed over downtown Littleham like some kind of mansion out of a Gothic fairy tale. After securing a parking spot, she and Maisie scurried to the courthouse entrance. As they marched up the stairs to the front door, Miranda looked over her shoulder and down Main Street where she spied Maggioli’s. If nothing else good happened that day, perhaps they could sneak in a decent lunch at her fave restaurant.

  After moving through security at the front doors where Miranda had a brief reunion with Van Winkle County Sheriff Snipe Callaway, they took the elevator to the second floor. Immediately upon exiting the car, she saw Prent standing outside the courtroom with a dark-haired man in a suit, whom she assumed to be Cord Bilton, Prent’s attorney. When she caught Prent’s eye, he brightened, but his face was still tense.

  “Thanks for coming. Didn’t know you were bringing reinforcements.” Prent nodded to Maisie.

  “Here for you both today,” Maisie said.

  After introductions all around—it was the first time she had met Cord—Miranda scanned the hallways.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “Already inside. She didn’t want to be out here when the grandmother comes with Peter. She was afraid she might say something nasty and lose it when she saw her grandson.”

  “Sound thinking,” interjected Cord. “We should follow her lead and all get inside to wait for the case to be called.”

  Miranda took Prent’s hand, and they walked into the courtroom together, with Maisie following, as Cord held the door open. The small courtroom was crowded, and they had to nearly step on several seated people as they made their way to Prent’s mother, seated near the front.

  While Cord chatted with Prent after they took their seats, Maisie leaned over and whispered in Miranda’s ear.

  “Prent’s attorney is not a bad looker.”

  Miranda gaped at her little sister. She’d known Maisie to date a little, but rarely had she openly expressed such an interest in a guy.

  “I think he has a girlfriend,” Miranda said, making Maisie’s face fall a bit. “I remember Prent saying something about how he had to take her out to Maggioli’s recently to make up for cancelling a reservation there due to some kind of emergency.”

  Miranda took stock of her surroundings and examined the cramped courtroom. All around were adults and a few children, even babies, with almost everyone to a person looking absolutely miserable. Every time the courtroom doors opened, Prent looked over his shoulder, as did Miranda, yet the grandmother and Peter did not appear. As the minutes passed, both Prent and Cord were getting more nervous, and she began to wonder whether grandma was going to show up.

  A voice from the front of the room commanded attention and ordered that all stand. Judge Cara Forrest, a tall blonde with a somber demeanor, entered the courtroom.

  After Judge Forrest sat, she glanced at some papers on the bench and then addressed Cord.

  Cord immediately rose.

  “Yes, your honor?”

  “I had a call before I came on the bench. Ms. Minton and her client are running late. She said she couldn’t get you to answer your phone.”

  “Yes, I turned my phone off before I came in the courtroom. Thanks for telling me.”

  “Your matter will be passed to the end of the docket to allow Ms. Minton and her client time to get here. Now, let’s get to it. Benson v. Benson? Mr. Mercer, I see you have a motion to reduce? Is the county attorney here?”

  Drake Mercer, an attorney Miranda recognized from Bourbon Springs, rose from the gallery and approached the bench, along with a woman dressed in a suit whom Miranda assumed was the Van Winkle County Attorney.

  As Judge Forrest listened to arguments, Miranda watched the crowd and continued to turn around whenever the courtroom door opened. Drake Mercer had the most business before the court that morning. During a lull in the proceedings when the county attorney was looking for a document, he started chatting with the judge.

  “How’s Nate?” Drake asked the judge. Miranda knew he was referring to the judge’s son; she had delivered that child.

  Judge Forrest’s face transformed from serious to serene.

  “He’s great. Keeps asking me when we’re going to get more snow and ice, saying he wants to build an ice fort.”

  Drake nodded and moved closer to the bench as he ran a hand over his shaggy blond hair.

  “The fort plan sounds like fun but not the ice part. Done with that for the winter, I should hope.”

  “Me too. Hate the cold weather.”

  When the judge realized that the county attorney had again approached the bench and was ready to proceed, her countenance immediately changed from happily engaged with Drake to a startled, almost embarrassed look.

  The judge proceeded through the docket, and as litigants and attorneys came forward, the number of people in the courtroom gradually began to thin out.

  At about half an hour into the proceedings, the doors to the courtroom again opened, prompting everyone on Miranda’s row to turn around once more. Into the courtroom slipped none other than Kurt Oakes.

  Prent’s face betrayed nothing but shock as he blinked at his uncle, then at her. Miranda looked at Kurt long enough to catch his eye and offer him a small smile, but his only response was to scowl as he looked toward the front of the courtroom.

  Miranda was about to turn around when another unexpected observer walked in.

  Her mother.

  “Did she tell you that—” Miranda whispered to Maisie as their mother waved and took a seat on the back row in the aisle opposite Kurt.

  “I had no idea she’d be here!”

  Miranda and Maisie gestured to their mother to join them, but she shook her head and stayed in her seat.

  Listening to people complain about child support (too much or too little) and seeing other children being pulled into court to get their cheeks swabbed for genetic testing was a sad spectacle. Finally, about an hour after court began, the courtroom doors opened once more and two women with a young boy in tow entered.

  The younger woman, a short brunette carrying a briefcase, showed the other, a thin woman with wispy white hair, to a seat near the back of the courtroom, a few rows in front of where Kurt Oakes sat. The small dark-haired boy held his grandmother's hand, looking around the space with wide, fear-filled eyes.

  The child did resemble Prent and there seemed to be no reason for the grandmother's obstinacy in getting tested other than to delay and have the child become more attached to her.


  Miranda considered the woman, who had a very sour look upon her sharp features. She shot one glance in their direction but quickly averted her eyes to the front of the room as Davina began to cry.

  The proceedings continued until the only people remaining in the courtroom were court personnel and those waiting for the Oakes paternity case to be called.

  “Okay,” Judge Forrest announced after Drake Mercer and the county attorney left the courtroom, “I think we're finally ready for the paternity petition in Case No. P-8612,” she said, looking from one side of the room to the other. “All come forward, please.”

  Cord and Prent moved to the well of the court before the judge, as did Elizabeth Minton, the grandmother, and the boy. Miranda stayed in the seats next to Davina and held her hand.

  “Mr. Bilton, this is your motion for testing?”

  “Yes, your honor,” he replied. Prent stood to Cord's left, looking extremely stiff.

  “And this is your client, the putative father, Mr. Prentice Oakes III?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Cord replied.

  Judge Forrest gave a brief nod to Prent, which he returned. She then focused her attention—along with a distinct frown—to the other side of the courtroom.

  “Ms. Minton, is it your position the court should not grant this motion?”

  “No, your honor, but—”

  “Then the court grants the motion, and testing will proceed forthwith in the court's presence here in a moment. First I need to ask why I had to issue an order of personal appearance against your client. This should've been a routine thing to get this child tested. In fact, I'm at a complete loss as to why this wasn't done by agreement without resort to the petition and motion practice. Seems a little unnecessary to me.”

  “Judge Forrest, my client has only recently recovered from a nasty bout of flu,” Elizabeth Minton said. “We were perfectly willing to agree to testing, but Mr. Oakes was apparently unwilling to give us a little time.”

  Prent let out an expression of disgust, but Cord put his hand on his client's arm and silenced him. Cord whispered something to Prent, and the latter nodded but kept his eyes on the other side of the room where Peter was standing next to his grandmother.