New Point (9 page)

“Look,” I tell them urgently before either can speak, “I would appreciate it if you kept my relationship to Blake to yourself. It’s not public knowledge that he and I are related. This whole stupid engagement story will die down when he’s photographed on one of his dates. No big deal.”

“Zoe –” Miles starts, but I won’t let him finish.

“I’m running late, it was great to see you all. Duke, don’t forget to bring your favorite book to camp tomorrow.”

I spin away from them without hearing if they say goodbye. Never have I been so thankful for the mask my sunglasses provides. A mixture of embarrassment, anger, and sadness crash over me. I thought there was something brewing between Miles and me. On the other hand, he thought of me as a two-timer without even bothering to ask me. Assumptions piss me off to no end. Anyone can look at me and decide I’m damaged beyond repair because of my parents’ death or what happened at Clarkes, but I’m stronger than a kite whipping around in a windstorm. I refuse to let Miles’ impression of me cause any more pain than it did last night.

I’ll forget about him.

No problem.

Right—tell that to the tears I brush off my cheeks once I’m back on the beach heading toward my house.

T
he first thing I notice several hours later when I flutter out of a nap is the smell of meat sizzling on the barbecue. Dazedly, I push myself into a sitting position. After the disastrous run-in with Miles, Duke, and Etta, I went home, threw on a yoga DVD, and tried my best to forget about it.

One newly brewed cup of Americano, a piping hot shower, and a pair of leggings later, I found myself sprawled out on a deck chair reading
Gone with the Wind.
Nothing like Scarlett O’Hara to remind you to get up after you’ve stumbled.

“Finally, she wakes.”

The voice comes from behind me, and I jerk around to find Miles in the process of closing the lid on the smoking grill.

“You’re a day late,” I tell him without preamble.

My curtness doesn’t faze him as he watches me calmly. “Yes, it seems I am. May I?”

“Fine,” I mutter as he sits down on the bed of the lounge chair. He reaches down, plucking my feet into his lap. Try as I might, I’m unable to subdue my quivering insides at his touch.

“Have you ever heard the expression, so angry you see red?” he asks softly.

“Of course.” My eyes flicker to his face. He looks repentant enough.

“I must have heard it dozens of times in my life; TV, the movies, books, all over the place. Never thought too much of it until I saw you with your brother at my bar. Jake told me you were there, and I couldn’t come out right away to greet you. But when I did, I found you smiling –Jesus, have I told you that your smile lights up a room?– with another guy. Not just another guy, the president of the team I’ve been a fan of my entire life. He doesn’t look like your brother, and I know Stewart Campbell only has one son, no daughters.” Miles shakes his head ruefully, a self-deprecating smile spread across his face. “I saw red. In the blink of an eye, everything in the bar I built with my own hands was awash in crimson.”

His hands gently cup my upper arms now. I hardly realized while he spoke that he was gently pulling me closer. I’m practically sitting in his lap, and he’s breathing heavier than usual.

“The next morning I saw him buying groceries, presumably to make you breakfast. I bumped into him at the store like some territorial animal. Zoe, I’ve never done anything like that. Ever. What are you doing to me?”

I feel my eyes growing wider and wider. My heart rate has picked up with his speech. “I don’t know, but I’m not sure I want to find out,” I answer honestly. “You thought I was the type of girl to cheat on her serious boyfriend. If that’s what you think of me, why would you want to be around me, and why would I want to be around you?”

He winces, shaking his head. “Clearly I wasn’t thinking anything at all. Etta told me to talk to you, but I was too caught up in the red. Look, you did nothing wrong, I was the jackass here. I wanted, no
want,
a chance to get to know you better and thought it was gone.”

“Miles.” I wiggle a little and his hands fall away. The moment he releases me, the current buzzing between us diminishes. I drop my feet to the ground and grip the edge of the chaise. “I don’t want to play games. You stood me up and then I find you partying on the beach when I thought we’d be spending time together. It stung. Where do we go from here?”

He brushes his fingertips where mine curl tightly around the wood. “What’s that, jackass move number three? There are too many to count it seems. I’m sorry, Zoe. I was trying without success to forget how you make me feel when I’m around you.” My heart catches, but I keep silent, telling myself to breathe. “I’d like a second chance,” he murmurs against my ear.

I can almost feel the weight of his sincerity. I know in my heart of hearts he regrets the way he acted.
We all make mistakes,
I remind myself. He had the courage to admit his. This time the shivers that roll through my body are visible to him. Out of the corner of my eye I see his smile.

“Please.”

“One more,” escapes my lips.

Way to stand your ground, Zoe.
With those chocolate eyes boring into me, how could I resist him? Impossible.

“I was really hoping you’d say that. Let me have a go at the dinner we missed yesterday?” He cocks his head toward the grill.

I try to fight off a smile, but I can’t hold it back. “What are you making?”

He playfully nudges me with his shoulder. “Why don’t you go over there and check it out.”

Two cuts of steak and corn cook inside the stainless steel grill. They’re not ready quite yet. I settle the lid closed and whirl around to find Miles standing next to the same table I had breakfast with Blake yesterday. It’s been set for two, down to the placemats and cutlery.

“Beer? Wine?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle chilling on the table.

“You were pretty confident I’d give you another shot,” I state, walking over and tugging two longneck bottles from a cooler near his feet. He swipes the beers away and opens them. Secretly I’m impressed he went to all the trouble.

“What woman can resist homemade brownies?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Brownies, you say?” I shift around him to inspect the table. He’s not lying, there’s a complete dinner; a green salad, horseradish dipping sauce for the steak, and, yes, brownies.

“Made them myself. I had plenty of time to plot how to get back in your good graces while I was cooking.”

I cross my arms over my chest and settle my hip against one of the chairs. “Business owner, super uncle, chef… Is there anything you don’t do well?”

He reaches out, tangles our fingers together, and lifts my hand to brush his lips across the back of my hand. My knees wobble slightly, and I lock them in place.

“Apparently, when it comes to romancing you, I’m not so smooth. That’s about to change, though.”

“How?” He hasn’t let go of my hand, our fingers linking us together in the space between our bodies.

“Once you eat my brownies, you won’t be able to resist me.”

I snort (very unladylike) out a laugh, dropping his hand to cover my nose. “We’ll see about that.”

“You’re cute. Especially when your snort.” He shakes his head, muttering something unintelligible. “Sit. Our dinner should be ready.” He gently pulls my body away from the chair then grabs the back to pull it out for me.

“Such a gentleman,” I murmur.

“It’s new for me too,” he says mysteriously.

Miles plates the food, grandly presenting the dinner at my place setting. I giggle at his grandiose gesture.

Yes,
I
giggle. I can’t remember the last time I shared my laughter freely.

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” He sits in the chair opposite from me.

“Silly.”

“When I’m around you I feel…light, so I guess playfulness is part of that.” He shrugs and lifts his beer.

I nod. It makes sense because whenever he’s near, I lose sight of the dark cloud that’s been my perpetual shadow.

Miles’ eyes meet mine. “To silliness and new beginnings,” he says huskily, all humor out of his voice.

Since Clinton Smith stared me down at Clarkes Elementary School, I’ve avoided direct eye contact with others. I didn’t want to find pity in my brother’s worried expression or curiosity in the eyes of the security team assigned to watch out for me. Even Dr. Greene watched me with unchecked sympathy at times. I hated that Clinton changed the way people looked at me, so I kept eye contact to a minimum. With Miles, I can’t help but stare into the depths of his cocoa-colored eyes. Instead of looking at me like I might collapse from a stiff wind, Miles watches me attentively. He draws me in, and I’m unable to escape his hold.

I don’t want to escape.

“Cheers,” I finally reply, tapping my bottle to his.

Miles takes a swallow of his beer, and instead of doing the same, I admire the strong column of this muscular neck.

“Is there something on my face?” he teases.

Dang it. I’m caught.

“No,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat when I swig from the bottle.

“I stare too,” he admits without shame. “When I caught you unaware on your deck, when I spotted you across the bar with your brother… I couldn’t help but watch you.”

“Oh,” I stutter, almost dropping the serving spoons into the salad bowl.

He laughs softly. “I never lay my cards on the table like this, Zoe. There’s a depth to you that I can’t resist. I want to uncover your secrets.”

You’re going to be disappointed,
I tell him silently.
The secrets I carry will never taint you.

Shaking my head to try and clear out the cobwebs that prevent me from speaking coherently, I serve him and then myself. “Is the weather always this perfect in New Point?”

“You’re asking a biased source. One of the things I love about living here are the true four seasons. Temperature’s been higher than normal, another thing I’m attributing to you.”

“Why’s that?” I ask between bites of salad.

“You’re smoking hot.”

I burst out laughing. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?”

He shrugs. “I call it like I see it. Seriously, though, what brings you to New Point? I know the house hasn’t changed ownership in a long time. You or your brother could have come down before. Why now?”

What’s the easiest way to answer him without lying?

To buy time, I slice off a piece of steak and take my first bite. The moan that slips out of my mouth is low and throaty. “Wow. You are a talented at grilling.”

Miles doesn’t respond.

My gaze meets his. The dark eyes seem bottomless, two pools of lust that I could easily drown in if he pulled me in.

He clears his throat roughly. “Thank you. You didn’t answer my question. Why New Point?”

“I wanted a new job.”
That’s the truth.
“My first position out of school was at an elementary school, and I think I’m better suited for a library.”
There’s less chance a deranged madman will show up.
“And New Point was a place Blake and I always planned to come and visit when we got tired of the city. I got tired of the city faster than he did
.
”

Miles doesn’t appear to notice that I’m not providing him with complete answers. Everything I tell him is factually true, but I’ve left out one clunky piece of baggage that made the decision to move for me.

“I, for one, am pleased you tired of the city and came to our little piece of Michigan.”

Inhaling through my nose, I settle back into the wood chair leaning my neck back so I may stare up into the sky. “There’s something about this place that I can’t deny. My mom saw it too, that’s why she and my dad bought the house here.”

I feel him nudge my bare foot with his own. He wiggles his much larger foot against mine until he can rest it underneath mine. I like that he’s always touching me, like he can’t get enough of my skin on his. “When we get to know each other better, will you tell me about the ring you wear?”

When I raise my head, I’m unable to contain my soft smile. “One step at a time, buddy.”

“As long as I’m stepping toward you, I can work with that.”

No guy has ever shown such obvious interest in me. Games were always abundant in the city dating scene. With Miles, he says exactly what’s he thinking. I can’t help but feel at ease around him. Blatant concern isn’t etched across his face; he looks at me like I’m any girl on a normal date. Exactly why I wanted this fresh start.

We finish our meal with companionable conversation. Miles tells me about Meryl and Annie. They’re notorious for town gossip, as I suspected, and he promises they will find interest in another topic soon. I ask him how often he works nights at the bar, and he tells me only when it’s short staffed or he wants to go in. He spends more time at the bar during the day doing managerial duties.

“Where does the name Blue in Green come from?”

For the first time in the night, he’s embarrassed. “It’s a ballad by my namesake. Jazz runs through my veins, even if I don’t play his music very often.”

“Maybe not, but you should be proud of what you accomplished. You’re tailoring to the demands of your clientele, it’s smart. Play his music when it fits the mood.”