Page 31 of Deception & Daylight
“That’s my fucking girl,” I growl, so goddamn proud of her.
“You’ll regret that, little minx.” She jerks back, preparing to lunge at him, but I intercept, banding an arm around her waist. My thumb accidentally grazing the underside of her breast, and her breath hitches.
“No. I don’t think I will,” she spits. “Let’s go, Miles.” She turns, rising onto her toes to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. I watch each movement slack-jawed as she hops into the passenger side of my truck, leaving me utterly speechless, and hard as a fucking rock.
The drive back to the inn is quiet, with only the dull hum of the radio to fill the silence. Maggie’s eyes stay locked on the passenger window, watching the landscape pass by in a blur. By the time I pull up to the curb, she’s fully retreated into herself, and I know our moment has truly passed.
She smiles softly as I help her out of the truck, and she doesn’t protest when I lace our fingers and walk her to the front door. “Goodnight, Mags,” I whisper, kissing her softly on the forehead before reaching around her body to open the door. I place my hands in my pockets to contain the urge to touch her as she turns to walk away.
She pauses briefly to glance back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Miles.” The words are soft, almost wistful, and it solidifies my resolve. Someday soon, I’m going to make her mine for real.
Chapter 12
Mags
? Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter
With the Blossom Festival fast approaching, a reluctant Patty sent over a full itinerary and breakdown of my obligations. I think she was hoping she’d find a more suitable replacement before then, but she’s stuck with me. It’s a much bigger undertaking than I anticipated for a small town gazette, but I’m eager for the much-needed distraction.
I had hoped to avoid most of the bachelor auction, providing only a concise overview for the article, but I’m being thrust into the deep end with a full page spread about the event since it benefits Ruby’s Cause, the charity fund that Evie runs.
Throughout the year, Evelyn Hayes raises funds for mental health services in conjunction with the local elementary school. According to Paige, they chose the bachelor auction for their event because it usually brings in the largest donations. I can’t say I’m surprised. For a small town, Oak Ridge is rife with eye candy.
So what exactly does one wear to an event where their fake boyfriend is being auctioned off like the prize pig at the county fair? A sun dress? Jeans? A shirt that says Miles Barlow’s girlfriend? I smirk. He might want to murder me for that last one, so naturally it’s the best option. Unless I want to put my meager artistic abilities to the test, I might need to call in reinforcements.
Mags: Do you know where I can get a custom shirt made on short notice?
Paige: Do I want to know why?
Mags: Probably best if you don’t know.
Paige: There’s a woman I’ve done family photos for who does that kind of thing. I’ll send over her contact.
Mags: You’re the best.
Paige: Don’t do anything stupid.
Mags: I make no promises.
Following a quick chat with the enthusiastic owner of a small business called Tally’s Tees, I have the perfect t-shirt on order and set to arrive just in time for the festival. Miles is going to hate this — it’s perfect.
I’m just settling into the window seat in the sitting room with a steaming mug of tea and my favorite typewriter, when the man in question appears. It’s like the universe keeps throwing him at me, and one of these days I’m going to slip up and let karma take me along for the ride. After our near miss at the bar last night, I can say with utter certainty it would be the ride of my fucking life.
“Goddamn mother fucking shit balls,” Miles curses, throwing a set of gardening gloves down on the front desk, his flowery words floating through the open pocket doors.
“What crawled up your ass, sweet cheeks?” I tease, stepping into the foyer.
“Now there’s a nickname I can get behind.” His face breaks out into that panty melting grin of his, and I have to resist the urge to throw myself at him.
“You’re such a dumbass.”
“But I’myourdumbass,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair off my forehead.
I scoff. “In your dreams, Barlow.”
His tone instantly sobers. “You have no idea, baby.” Our playful banter evaporates as the seemingly genuine nickname hits me square in the chest. Our eyes lock, and everything slows. His hand stills in my hair. It would only take one slight movement for our lips to touch.
“Get a room.” Lucy’s voice slices through the thick tension as she strolls into the foyer with a tea tray in hand. Her gaze lands on where my fingers have inadvertently made their way to Miles’ belt loops, pulling our bodies inextricably close. Suddenly, the proximity feels stifling and I take several steps back, putting a good three feet of distance between us.
