Her Unexpected Engagement (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  A tear spilled down her cheek. Miles swiped it away with his thumb then wrapped her in a warm embrace. She clung to him, her eyes closed tight and breathing shallow. Another panic attack. Rather than urge her to sit back down, he began swaying gently side to side, humming a song he’d heard long ago. After a few minutes, the tension in her shoulders began to fade. Soon her lashes were parting, and his favorite pair of hazel eyes were turning their gaze toward his.

  “What is it? The song you’re humming?”

  He smiled. “‘Color My World’ by Chicago. Brent’s parents used to slow dance to it in their living room every weekend.”

  “Wow, that’s an oldie.”

  “Some classics never go out of style.”

  She sighed. “Do you really think I can do this?”

  “Yes, I do.” Miles held her gaze. “And I’ll be right there with you, to catch you if you fall.”

  “What about Liam?” she asked. “What if…what if he’s there, too? Or any of his old golf buddies?”

  “Steph, who was it that got caught kissing on television—you, or him?”

  She threw him a dark look.

  “Exactly. So you have nothing to worry about. He’s the world’s biggest screwup, not you.”

  “I know but…” She sighed. “You’re right. I have nothing to be ashamed about.”

  “That’s my girl.” Miles kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek atop it. They continued swaying together though the music and humming had long since stopped. But they’d always danced to a different beat than most. Today was no different.

  “Okay.”

  Miles pulled back to meet her gaze. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” Stephanie smiled. “I’ll give it a try with you there, Mr. Safety Net.”

  “That’s Mr. Fiancé to you, missy.”

  “Right.” She snuggled into him. “Alaska.”

  “What?”

  “Alaska—that’s where we’re going on a cruise for our honeymoon. Because there’s no golf tournaments anywhere near there.”

  Miles laughed. “If you say so, sweetheart. I guess that means we’re eloping to Vegas, not Atlantic City?”

  “Nah,” she said. “We’ll have Ruby’s pastor buddy officiate for us at the Checkerberry. Family and close friends only.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  Miles shifted his gaze to the window. He’d always pictured having a wedding on the inn’s sprawling lawn, with white folding chairs and grand, flower-covered arbors. But this was all pretend, he reminded himself. There was no ring, no proposal, no real plans. Once Cinderella had survived her royal ball, her coach would return to being a pumpkin and her fancy escort to just an old friend.

  Or, if Rozario ever called, an Ohio Buckeye.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stephanie stood with Miles before the country club’s ornate doors the next evening, gulping for air. The wind whipped around them as dark clouds loomed in the ominous sky overhead. It was only a matter of time before the forecasted storm hit. Her own storm, however, waited on the other side of these doors.

  She was ready, mostly. Kayla had been a sweetheart and taken her into town that morning to hunt for a suitable dress. Nothing too flashy to draw attention, or too casual either. They’d settled on a forest green evening gown with open shoulders and a moderately plunging neckline. Its fabric felt divine—silky and flowy with angled layers from top to bottom that added a bit of flair to the solid color. She’d struck gold at a nearby shoe store with heels to match, and topped it all off with a modest updo twist. Miles had been rendered speechless upon his arrival, giving Stephanie time to admire his own GQ look. The double-breasted tuxedo fit him perfectly, its white dress shirt beneath a perfect compliment to his tanned skin. They were sure to be the talk of the event.

  Which scared her a little too much right now.

  “You sure you want to do this?” said Miles from her side.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.”

  “Stephanie, look at me. Me, not the doors.”

  With a sigh she turned her back to the building and offered him a tight smile. Miles placed one hand atop each of her bare shoulders and waited for her gaze to meet his. “You never did anything wrong. Nothing, do you hear me? Tonight is about new beginnings, not reliving or regretting the past. You got it?”

  She gave him a nod, as that was all she could muster. He was right, of course. And yet she still couldn’t seem to shake the first hints of an anxiety attack.

  “I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” His voice was low and reassuring as he reached for the doors. “Just stay calm. You can do this.”

  Calm? Easy for him to say. He wasn’t about to face the biggest mistake of his life, or the society that may as well have crowned said mistake heir to the throne. Even after Liam’s highly publicized kissing scandal, the PGA circles had been quick to overlook his indiscretions. The men and women who once called themselves her friends had chosen Liam’s pretty face over her hard work and dedication, a fact that stung even now.

  Miles led her through the door and into the lobby. She gripped his arm tighter, bracing herself for the anxiety attack that was sure to come. At the moment, its usual eagle-size talons felt no more painful than those of a sparrow. But it was still early, and they had yet to run into anyone she knew.

  Just a matter of time.

  “Steph, honey, I may need that arm later.”

  She looked down at her white knuckles, sunk deep into his tux sleeve, and willed her fingers to unclench. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Miles offered her a noble smile as they drew near the registration table. The twenty-something seated there with lipstick far too pink for her complexion smiled broadly as they approached, her appreciative gaze quickly settling upon Miles. Stephanie felt an unexpected flare of jealousy rip through her and decided to look away before she said something she would regret. Wouldn’t help her cause to get thrown out before even making it into the main room—hard to face her fears from the parking lot, after all.

  In the room ahead stood elegantly dressed couples of varying ages. Groups had formed into small circles, men talking with men, their wives or dates conversing beside them. Bile rose in Stephanie’s throat at the sight and the memories it invoked. How many times had she played trophy wife over the years, offering fake smiles to pretentious elitists while her ambitious husband worked the crowd, seeking entry into higher social circles?

  Miles’s hand found the small of her back, the warmth instantly soothing. Well, as soothing as it could be, considering where they were. “Ready to have some fun?”

  “I’d rather have a root canal.”

  “Ever had one?”

  “No.”

  “Trust me, this will be less painful.” He guided her forward, his game face on. “Now come on, let’s go in and turn this party on its head.”

  Now there was one preparatory remark Liam had never served up. Usually it was “smile and pretend you’re happy to be here” or “make sure you get over to talk to so-and-so.” Fun or partying had never been part of the equation. Then again, neither had Miles. Maybe the event wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she’d built it up in her mind to be way worse than it would be.

  The minute they stepped into the main room, though, that stupid sparrow decided to evolve into a damned ostrich. Panic wrapped its talons around her chest and gave it a mighty squeeze. Stephanie struggled to breathe, struggled to stay upright.

  And maybe I’m freaking delusional.

  “You can do this, Steph.”

  She shook her head, saw heads start to turn, couples draw closer to whisper. It was too much. All too much.

  “Restroom,” she managed.

  Miles led her to a side hall, his pace far too slow and leisurely. The minute they broke from view of the main room, she hurried off toward the room marked LADIES. By some miracle, it was empty. Stephanie sank down onto one of the powder room’s cushioned seats and tried to catch her breath.

  This is ridiculous.
They’re just people. And poor Miles is standing out there waiting for me all alone.

  Miles. The man who’d offered her more support and understanding the past few days than Liam had in years. Shame washed over her at how foolish she was being. She was here to face her demons, not hide from them in some country club bathroom. And she had the best friend in the world waiting just outside the door to help her do precisely that.

  The panic slowly eased from her chest.

  A few deep breaths more and Stephanie was able to stand once again. She used the facilities, checked her appearance in the mirror, then made for the door. Miles’s low voice sounded in the hall, and she paused to listen. A second voice piped up, this one much higher than his, and was followed by grating, flirty laughter. The jealousy she’d felt moments ago flared again. She unlatched the door and pulled it open. If it’s the girl from the front desk—

  “Stephanie? Stephanie Fitzpatrick?”

  She tensed at the voice, as familiar as it was unwanted. As her eyes adjusted to the dim hallway lighting, Stephanie found herself face-to-face with the last person she expected to see here tonight.

  Tiffany “Husband Stealer” Greer.

  Stephanie prayed her eyes were playing tricks on her and blinked hard. Blinked again as Miles came to stand beside her. His hand slid around her waist, though whether for support or as a means of restraint she wasn’t sure. Nor, at the moment, did she care. “Tiffany?”

  The platinum blond clapped her acrylic-tipped hands together and squealed like a little schoolgirl, then stepped forward to offer a traditional P.C. hug and kiss to the cheek. Stephanie froze, torn between running away or taking the woman down. Instead, she shoved her right hand out, blocking the woman’s advance with an offer to shake, just like she’d seen Miles do at her interview the other day. And it worked. With a faltering smile, Tiffany conceded to a limp-fish handshake, then took an awkward step back.

  “It’s, uh, so good to see you again, Stephie. I’ve missed our time together on the tour this season.”

  Like heck you did. “Oh, well, you know. On to bigger and better things.” She stepped closer to Miles and flashed an overly bright smile. “And how is Seth doing?”

  Something inside Stephanie snapped. What was she doing, asking how this floozy’s husband was doing? For years she’d followed Liam’s rules, played the game of pretending to take great interest in people she didn’t care for. Asked all the right questions, avoided saying anything that might embarrass him in front of his colleagues. So at each function she’d had to more or less dumb herself down, and shift any attention she received back to Liam to make the cheating little bastard look that much better. But she was done worrying about what he thought, or anyone else in this place.

  Power coursed through her veins, one she’d long since denied herself. Miles had been right—to defeat her demons, she needed to find the old her. Suddenly Stephanie, like a Great White shark, smelled blood in the water.

  Tiffany frowned. “You didn’t hear? He broke his wrist a few weeks ago. He’s out for the rest of the season. We’re still touring with the others though, of course.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. Though, I don’t follow golf’s petty drama anymore.” Stephanie raised a hand to her chest in mock concern.

  Miles disguised his laughter with a cough and looked to the floor.

  “Lovely chat. Let’s not do it again anytime soon.” She stepped from Miles’s grasp and took him by the hand. “Come, darling. We have mingling to do.”

  …

  Miles stood in line at the cash bar, his gaze roving between the worsening weather conditions outside and the woman who’d stolen the show tonight. While Stephanie had insisted prior to the event that he remain glued to her side, after the Tiffany encounter, Stephanie had come alive. Now the woman was on fire, blazing a trail through the room as she chatted it up with all the non-golfers.

  And they loved her.

  “She with you?” asked the bartender as he handed over two Heinekens, tipping his head in Stephanie’s direction.

  Miles dropped a tip in his jar. “My fiancée.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  He was. For now, anyway. Soon the farce would be over, the engagement dissolved. But tonight he would play the part, and enjoy as much of it as possible before the end arrived.

  Miles strode back to Stephanie, enjoying glimpses of her as he wove through the thickening crowd. She looked absolutely radiant, her face animated and hands moving in accord with each of her stories. The African-American couple that stood before her now looked vaguely familiar, and after a moment Miles realized the husband of the pair was the area’s state representative, Robert Thomas.

  Miles came to stand beside Stephanie, whose smile broadened at his arrival, and handed her a beer as he nodded to the couple. “Good evening.”

  “Representative Thomas, Charlene, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Miles Masterson. His grandmother owns—”

  “The Checkerberry Inn.” Robert extended his hand with a smile. “We vacationed there a few years back. Sounds like you’ve done some remodeling since then?”

  Miles’s chest swelled with pride. “Yes. My cousin took over as groundskeeper this spring, and he’s really gone to town on it.”

  “And Stephanie tells us you’re the CFO there, correct?”

  “Uh, yes. Have been for years now.”

  “Anyone who can keep one of our local landmarks afloat in this economy should be commended,” said Charlene.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” said Miles, feeling like a total heel having this conversation with one foot potentially out the door. “Truly, it’s been a team effort.”

  “Speaking of team,” Robert said with a smile. “We were just speaking with Ms. Fitzpatrick about the wonderful work she did in Florida, helping to found their Fun In The Sun program.”

  Miles looked to Stephanie, whose cheeks reddened from the compliment. “She did do an amazing job down there, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. So naturally when we overheard that she’d interviewed with Mr. Evanston, we knew we had to speak with her.” Charlene placed a gentle hand on Stephanie’s arm. “Once you get moved back and settled, Stephanie, we’d love to hear all about your ideas for developing a FITS program, right here in the great state of Michigan.”

  “I would be honored to. Though, you must understand—FITS is a massive program. It will take far more than just myself to get it off the ground. In Florida, we had an entire board of directors, dedicated finance and PR staff, dozens of sponsors, event coordinators, and a whole fleet of volunteers.”

  “Ah, talking business, I see.”

  Miles turned to see Chris Evanston approaching. To his relief, Chris had behaved himself around Stephanie tonight, talking her up to everyone rather than ogling her. Okay, so maybe the guy wasn’t a total slimeball after all.

  “Yes,” said Robert. “Exciting times lie ahead for the underprivileged youth in central Michigan.”

  “Indeed. We’re putting together one heck of a team to ensure this program gets off to a great start.” Chris’s gaze shifted to Miles. “Lucky for us, local talent abounds.”

  Too bad this local talent may not be local for much longer. “I’m sure whoever Stephanie identifies would be thrilled to get on board with such a worthy cause.”

  The lights overhead flickered, and Miles felt a vibration in his pocket. He retrieved his cell phone and scowled as the weather alert displayed. Tornado watch. Party time was over. He flashed a smile at the others.

  “Unfortunately, we have another engagement to attend. So nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. Mr. Evanston, good seeing you again.”

  Miles took a confused Stephanie by the hand and lead her toward the lobby.

  “Another engagement?” she whispered.

  “They’ve issued a tornado watch. We should go, before the storm gets any worse.”

  Worry clouded Stephanie’s beautiful face. “Will we be okay driving back?”

  “If
we hurry. I’ve got a basement at my place, we’ll be fine there.”

  “Perfect. Because I am so ready to get out of this dress.”

  Miles reached for the door, waggling his brows. “And I am so ready to see you—”

  “Leaving so soon, Masterson?”

  Stephanie drew in a sharp breath. Miles looked over his shoulder to see the one person they’d yet to encounter tonight…and the last person either of them wanted to see.

  Liam Fitzpatrick.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stephanie cringed at the voice that had haunted her for months and might well haunt her forever. One that bred self-doubt and feelings of failure. Damn, she’d been so close to not having to see her ex tonight. Beside her, Miles cursed under his breath and turned around.

  “Liam,” he said in a smooth voice. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

  “We?”

  Stephanie drew in a deep breath and turned to face him as well. He was handsome as always in a charcoal gray tuxedo that set off his gray-blue eyes nicely, though the voluptuous brunette he wore on his arm cheapened the look. The scarlet dress she wore, if it could be called that, had a neckline that dipped far too low and a hemline cut far too high for this formal of an affair.

  If it was attention he was after, their attire would certainly get it.

  “Stephanie, darling. What a pleasant surprise.”

  The woman on Liam’s arm cleared her throat. Cleared it again. Awareness slowly dawned on his face. “Oh, yes. Miles, Stephanie, this is Brittney LaFleur. My fiancée.”

  Miles nodded in his direction. “Nice to meet you.”

  Liam’s date hugged his arm tighter and batted her eyes at Miles. “Likewise.”

  “Ditto.” Stephanie lied. “So Liam, how’ve you been? Busy, it would seem.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m doing well, thanks. And you?”

  Stephanie slid a hand around Miles’s waist and pressed her body against his. “I’m wonderful, thank you. A bit tired now, though. We certainly worked the room over.” She looked to Brittney. “Oh, but don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll be fine. Just smile and let him do all the talking. He likes it best that way.”