Her Unexpected Engagement (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  A look of half-horror, half-shock crossed Rebecka’s face. “Did Macy—” She groaned. “That girl’s going to be the end of me.”

  “No worries. Heck, it’s the most action I’ve had in months.”

  “Okay, now that was more information than I needed to know.”

  Stephanie leveled a knowing look at her sister. “Like that wasn’t going to eventually come up.”

  “Pleading the fifth, here. Pleading the fifth.”

  Rebecka produced two glasses from the cupboard, then went to the refrigerator to fish out a gallon of milk. Stephanie snatched a cookie from the plate, savored the warmth on her fingers, and then gobbled up half of it in one bite.

  “Oooh!” she said, mouth hanging open as she fanned her burning tongue.

  Rebecka slid a glass of milk toward her with a scowl, which Stephanie also ignored. She chugged it, the cold instantly soothing the burn. Oh, but she’d scorched her tongue good. Not that she cared—it wasn’t like her tongue had any big plans in the near future.

  An image of Miles popped into her mind, and she instantly pushed it away. He was a really good friend once upon a time, that’s all. And the last thing in the world she needed right now was a man, especially of the playboy variety. She slid her empty glass forward for a refill.

  “It’s good to see you, you know, finally out and about again,” Becka said. “I was beginning to think you’d planned on hiding at home the rest of your life.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not quiet ready to get up on stage and do a dance routine or anything. Between the plane ride and rental car pickup, this trip has taken its toll on me.”

  Her older sister’s voice softened. “You can’t hide from the general population forever, sis.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Oh, Steph.”

  And there it was—the sound of pity in her sister’s voice. She knew it would come out eventually. But knowing and actually hearing it were two entirely different things. Resentment welled in her tightening chest.

  Poor Steph, can’t keep a husband. Poor Steph, had to find out the hard way. Poor Steph, her life is over…

  But her life wasn’t over, darn it, and she sure as heck didn’t want anyone’s pity. “Look, I’m fine, all rig—”

  “Mama?”

  Macy came skipping into the kitchen. She’d changed into one of her many dress-up costumes. Cinderella appeared to be her Disney princess of choice today, and in typical Macy style, she’d accessorized with a glittery lavender tiara perched atop her curly red hair and at least a million plastic bracelets adorning each wrist and forearm.

  Rebecka’s voice instantly reverted back to loving mother mode. “Yes, sweetheart?”

  Macy danced forward to trot in an innocent yet pleading circle around Stephanie. “Can Aunt Fannie come and play with me?”

  “Do I have to be Prince Charming and save you from some horrible monster?” Stephanie asked.

  Her niece looked at her like she’d just said the sky was red. “No, you’re not a boy. You can be Snow White. Or Ariel!” She reached up and took hold of Stephanie’s hand, then gave it a solid tug toward the hall. “Come on, come on—it’s time to play with me!”

  Stephanie grinned. She could use a little time in fairy tale land, since her own had spontaneously combusted. That, and this would be far more fun than the discussion Rebecka was starting to stir up. So she slid out of her seat and threw her sister a shrug. “You heard the princess.”

  Rebecka folded both arms across her chest with a smirk. “Fine, we’ll talk more later. We’re leaving for soccer in about an hour, then we’ll come back here for dinner. Joe’s grilling out, and I have plenty of wine on hand to help loosen those lips.”

  Oh Lord, not wine. Stephanie had a weakness for the drink, especially a sweet Moscato. And with enough wine came rambling confessions, as her older sister clearly remembered. Though, Stephanie didn’t know which confession might be the most damaging—how difficult it’d been to keep her family at arms’ length while she tried to pull herself out of the divorce darkness, or how Miles had been on her mind since colliding with him yesterday. Scared to speak of either, Stephanie made a mental note to keep her alcohol consumption to a minimum tonight. She was here to relax, to willingly collapse into her family’s safety net, not stress out about the men in her life—past or, well, farther past. And that’s the way it was going to stay.

  “You’re evil,” she whispered as an impatient Macy began towing her away.

  Rebecka just laughed in an evil, older sister kind of way. “I know.”

  …

  Miles headed out the door and down his long winding driveway, mentally gearing up for his morning run. Thanks to a string of wicked storms that rolled through last night, the ground before him was covered in downed twigs, monster puddles, and worms. Huge, nasty worms. Perfect for fishing, not so good for traction. Today’s run would no doubt be a messy obstacle course, but a much more serious question remained—would this family outing be one of his last?

  Miles had invented the Saturday morning tradition years ago to keep Brent from backsliding into depression after losing his parents in a tragic plane crash. As an added bonus, the outings came in handy many a time to give Miles an excuse for slipping out of his Friday night fling’s bed. Kayla was a runner as well, and when she’d traded Fort Wayne, Indiana for Mount Pleasant earlier this summer, she’d quickly joined in on their weekend runs.

  Sure, he could have resented her intrusion on guy time or complained that her strides were far shorter than theirs and often slowed their pace. Instead he’d grown to look forward to their trio time, and not just because Kayla had somehow brought his moody cousin back to life—Miles and Kayla had settled into an easy, sibling-like companionship soon after her appearance at the inn. She’d grown up with a younger brother, one she joked with quite often, and the two were still really close. That meant Kayla had no problem giving Miles grief, and he’d quickly learned to dish it right back.

  Just like he used to do with Stephanie.

  “Was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it.”

  Miles looked up from Wormfest to find Brent beside his mailbox, stretching.

  “Uh, yeah, late night. Where’s your other half?”

  “Home in bed. Said she pulled a muscle at the inn yesterday, didn’t want to aggravate it.”

  A tiny spark of jealousy flared through Miles. He wished someone was waiting in bed for him to return, all cozy and warm under the covers. After the disaster that was his date last night, it wasn’t happening anytime soon. He stepped into a lunge and held it.

  “Bummer. Must have been from trying to tame those damned thistles by the porch. I swear we’ll never get rid of those things.”

  “Actually, she said she did it in Ruby’s office of all places. No idea what she could have done in there to tweak her back.”

  Miles straightened then stretched his other leg. “Right.”

  Brent shook his head. “Tell me about this early check-in you logged last night. Kayla was surprised to see your name in the system. Said you usually ring for someone else to do it instead. Which means whoever it was, she must have been quite the looker.” His cousin flashed him a knowing grin.

  Usually, Miles would match it with one of his own. Today, he couldn’t do it. Not when the encounter with that particular woman had plagued his every thought since—including while he was out with Amber last night.

  He’d really looked forward to dinner with the news reporter, even after being distracted by Freddie’s call and the possibilities with this new job. She was cute, smart, witty… But Stephanie’s reappearance had overshadowed their evening before it’d even begun. The first time he’d accidentally called Amber “Steph” she laughed it off; the second time she threatened to call a cab. And while he promised it was a harmless mistake, Miles had still struggled to keep his attention on Amber.

  He scowled and stepped deeper into his stretch, focusing on the burn in his muscles rather than hi
s dating faux pas.

  “What, you’re not gonna spill?”

  “It was Stephanie.”

  “Stephanie?” Brent’s eyes widened. “As in the Stephanie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t she and Liam—”

  “Yes.”

  “So, that means she’s…”

  Single.

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.” Brent ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You actually going to man up and ask her out this time?”

  “No.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? The one who got away shows up here, single for Christ’s sake, and you’re just going to sit back and do nothing?”

  “Yep.”

  Miles shifted his gaze to the Checkerberry, its sprawling green lawn and pale yellow structure set just across the street from his property. It was good that she was away visiting Becka today. Safer.

  Since the moment he realized it was her, something inside had started nagging at him, memories intent to percolate to the surface of his mind. Now he couldn’t get her out of his head. All their time spent together during summer breaks in high school, in grade school, it’d been so…easy. There was never worry that he shouldn’t say this, or that she’d get mad at him if he did that. What he’d had with Stephanie had been, well, similar to what Brent had now with Kayla. Without the romance.

  But now, seeing Stephanie here again, he found himself missing the closeness they used to share. And it scared the hell out of him. Because a relationship like Brent and Kayla’s—one ruled blindly by love—couldn’t last. He’d seen it with his parents, had seen it go up in flames for Brent with his first fiancée, Nikki. Even Stephanie hadn’t been able to escape love’s untimely demise with Liam. No, it was best to avoid that crazy, all-consuming stuff because it always seemed to end with someone’s heart getting torn to shreds.

  Besides, her life was in Florida. And his? Well, his was up in the air. Now was the time to keep his eyes on the future, not dwell on the past. Or the present. He shifted his gaze back to a smirking Brent who had started making chicken noises.

  “Come on, Brent. She’s fresh off a divorce, and I’m”—hopefully moving—“no psychiatrist. She needs time to heal, to rebuild her confidence. Besides, even if I wanted to ask her out, I don’t think she’d say yes. She’s not too happy with me.”

  “Can’t say that I blame her for being mad. She put out the effort to keep in touch after the wedding. You didn’t. Though, it was probably best that way.” Brent turned toward the Checkerberry. “But you know, if she didn’t still care about you, she wouldn’t be so mad.”

  Miles just shrugged and started for the road. Better to do that than get into a full-blown argument over feelings and emotions on guy time. Or do something even more stupid, like let Brent’s observation put a chink in the armor around Miles’s well-guarded heart.

  Chapter Four

  It took an entire afternoon, a filling steak dinner, and two glasses of wine for Stephanie to shake the tournament-induced anxiety attack that nearly crippled her at the Saint Joe soccer fields. She may not have ever made it beyond the parking lot if it hadn’t been for little Macy, yanking Stephanie’s arm nearly out of the socket the whole way. It was by sheer will that she’d survived cohabitating with the masses. Of course, any time Joe or Rebecka asked how she was holding up, she’d forced a smile and pretended to be doing “just fine.”

  Right now, with a full belly and a bit of wine in her system, “just fine” was finally an accurate statement.

  “Wow, Joe,” said Stephanie. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

  Her brother-in-law had always been a wiz when it came to grilling, but tonight’s meal had been a masterpiece. Even her picky nieces hadn’t thumbed their noses at any of it. The girls had just made a beeline inside to catch a new episode of some cartoon she’d never heard of while Becka had gone in to hunt for a second bottle of wine.

  Joe gave her a wink. “My pleasure. It’s not every day our family celebrity graces us with her presence. A good meal or two, and we’ll have her convinced about moving back to Michigan in no time.”

  “I was never a celebrity.” Only married to one.

  She looked toward the kitchen’s sliding glass door. Where had Becka gone to get the second bottle of wine, anyway? Indiana?

  “Never a celebrity? Are you kidding me? All the work you did with the ‘Fun in the Sun’ sports camps? If it hadn’t been for you, how many kids in Southern Florida would never have had the chance to try soccer, tennis, or golf? Anyone who can get a kid outside and away from video games these days is a modern-day hero in my book. Hopefully, it’ll even keep a few of them out of trouble down the road.”

  Stephanie looked out over the backyard, and her gaze settled upon two orange cones that marked an imaginary soccer goal. Unlike her girly-girl sisters, sports had always been in her blood. And competition. The need to prove herself, steal attention back from Rebecka and later Livvy. In her younger days, that might have been motivation enough for getting in on the ground level with the FITS foundation.

  Over time, her needs had changed. She had changed.

  “I didn’t help start FITS to try and earn hero status. I was just bored, sick of being home by myself all the time. FITS was a way for me to pass the time and have a little fun, you know? Get my kid fix.”

  Her voice cracked on the last word, darn the wine. She kept her gaze trained on the cones and hoped like hell Joe hadn’t heard it. But of course he had. One of his large man paws came to rest upon one of hers. Instinctively she pulled her hand back, refusing to be coddled or pitied for the pathetic turn her life had taken this spring. Heck, had taken since college.

  “Steph,” he said softly.

  Hot tears stung her eyes. Rather than toss him the kind of snarky response she so desperately wanted to, Stephanie remained mute and waited for her lower lip to stop quivering. Double-darn the wine.

  “Oh, hey now.” Joe traded his seat for the one next to hers, then pulled Stephanie into his bear-like, fireman’s chest. “Kids can still happen for you.”

  She shook her head against him. “I’m out of time, Joe. The risk for complications goes up every day.”

  “Women much older than you are out there having babies, Fannie, and those kids are turning out just fine. Once you’re ready to start dating again, I’m sure you’ll find some amazing guy faster than—”

  “No.” She pulled back and swiped a hand under each set of leaky lashes. “No dating. I’m done with men. They’re traitorous pigs, all of ‘em. Oh, well, except for you, of course,” she added quickly. “You’re the exception to the rule. That, and you know Livvy and I would kill you if you ever thought of leaving Becka.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a smirk. “Look, men can be pigs, I’ll give you that. But don’t let one bad experience ruin the rest of your life.”

  “Who said I’m letting anything ruin my life?” Joe’s right brow rose ominously, and Stephanie squirmed beneath the weight of the look that accompanied it. “What? I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “How long has it been since you left the house, today excluded?”

  She tipped her chin skyward. “I leave the house nearly every day.”

  “In broad daylight. Without a disguise.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “That’s what I thought.” He stood and retrieved his beer, then took a long drink. When he brought the bottle down from his lips, he turned to stare out at something in the far corner of the yard. “You know, I never pictured you to be a quitter.”

  Stephanie’s jaw dropped open. “I’m not a quitter!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Joe’s gaze slid to hers. “Then prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Go back to the inn, nail this interview, and get on with your life. Date, have fun, face your fears, and conquer them.”

  She snorted, undeterred by his mind games. “I don’t need a week at some small-town bed and breakfast to face my fe—uh, get over
my divorce. All I really need is a distraction, something to take my mind off Jerkwad.” She leaned back in her seat. “You know, being around your kids today has been a terrific distraction. Maybe I could stay here this week, and you and Becka could take my room at the inn. You two could go on a long-overdue vacation, get away for a few days. Doesn’t that sound great?”

  “Doesn’t what sound great?” Becka asked from the sliding door, a bottle of wine in her hand.

  “You and Joe swapping places with me for the week. Wouldn’t you love to be spontaneous for once? Have a little romantic getaway?”

  “Sure,” Rebecka said. “But not this week. Joe has to work, and the girls have fine arts camp. Oh, and Mom’s joining us for church in the morning.”

  “M-mom?”

  Rebecka tipped her head to the side. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? She’s been going with us for a few months now. We pick her up, then go out for lunch afterwards. Family time, you know. I fibbed that you wouldn’t be getting in until Monday to give you a chance to settle in, but I can always say you arrived early.”

  “Family…time…”

  Church. Lunch. Her mother.

  The anxiety beast reared its ugly head once more. It was one thing to play it cool in front of Becka, or to have a moment of weakness in front of Joe—stupid, stupid wine—but could she survive an hour-long sermon at their mega church? Or two long car rides and lunch with her mother?

  Sometimes, her older sister just didn’t play fair. It looked like she would have to go back and face her demons all on her own after all. Or learn how best to ignore them on her own.

  Or with Miles. Funny, how often he had popped into her mind today. Each time, her anxiety level had actually dropped at the thought of him. Not what she had expected, but nothing she planned to act on, either. Maybe he would be a sufficient distraction from reality for the week.