“Did someone almost come in?” she asked.
“I think so.”
She shook her head and gave a slight shrug. “Oh well. We’re married, so fuck ’em.”
I grabbed her, pulling her against me, and kissed her hard. “I fucking love you, Zoe Miles.”
She laughed and nibbled on my bottom lip. “God, it feels good to hear you call me that again.”
“Good. Because you’re mine. And you always will be.”
And that was the truth. Zoe was mine. She belonged to me, just like I belonged to her. She had all of me—every breath and beat of my heart. I loved her with everything I had to give. I’d spent too much time chasing the wrong things, never finding happiness. Now I had it, and I was going to do everything in my power to make her as happy as she made me.
Forever.
Want more Roland and Zoe? How about a bonus epilogue for a peek into their happily ever after!
Tap here: GIVE ME MY BONUS EPILOGUE
The Miles Family Series will continue with Brynn’s story, coming summer 2018.
Turn the page for a preview of Remembering Ivy.
Remembering Ivy: Chapter One
Blue Eyed Stranger
Ivy
Boredom and loneliness were an unfortunate combination.
My oversized white German shepherd, Edgar, blinked at me, then huffed out a breath through his black nose. I’d taken him for a walk earlier, and these days he needed a nap to recover. His hips tended to bother him, and we’d had an active morning.
I looked down at my crossword puzzle, the book laid out flat on my small dining table. It was literary-themed, so it should have been a piece of cake. After all, I was a literature professor. I taught the classics in lecture halls filled with college students. But today, my mind wandered, the allure of puzzle-solving not enough to hold my attention.
Perhaps it was because I was facing yet another Saturday with no plans. There are certainly times when a long day free from outside obligations is a blessing. But other times, a girl needs a reason to go out. To put on something pretty. Wear those impractical shoes sitting untouched in the closet. Break out the red kiss-me-now lipstick. Maybe for someone who might kiss that lipstick right off.
It had been a long time since there had been someone to kiss the lipstick off these lips.
To be fair, I wasn’t sure I owned red lipstick anymore. And the impractical shoes… I probably still had them… somewhere. If I’d had a reason to dig them out of the recesses of my closet, I’m sure I could have found them. But I didn’t.
“It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason,” I said.
Edgar raised his head and blinked at me.
“Jules Verne,” I said. “It means spending too much time alone can make you crazy. I think I’m proof of that, considering I’m quoting The Mysterious Island to my dog.”
He put his head back on his front paws.
My phone beeped with a text. It was my best friend, Jessica.
Jessica: Busy today?
Me: So busy. This puzzle won’t solve itself.
Jessica: Peter’s ignoring me. Want to meet for coffee?
I smiled. Jessica and her husband were great together, but they were polar opposites—the passionate art history teacher and the nerdy math professor. Sometimes Jessica’s social needs exceeded Peter’s ability to keep up with them.
Me: Sure. Meet you at Café Lit?
Jessica: Yay!
“Well, buddy, it looks like Mama has a reason to put on real pants.”
Edgar ignored me as I got up and went to change out of my favorite comfy gray sweats. I stopped in the bathroom to pull my long hair into a low ponytail. It was just coffee with Jess, so dressing up wasn’t necessary. But I did put on a cute green sweater with my jeans, and slipped on a pair of black flats.
Café Lit was right across the street from Woodward College, the small private university just north of Seattle where Jessica, Peter, and I all taught. The Lit in the name was supposed to be short for literature. Wood paneling and lots of brown leather gave it an old-fashioned library atmosphere, and there were shelves lined with books you could read while you were there. It was particularly popular with the college staff. Jessica and I met here often, usually in the morning before work. But sometimes we came in on a weekend, especially if she was restless and Peter was absorbed in a project.
Jessica was already at a table when I arrived, dunking a tea bag into a mug of steaming hot water. I’d known Jess for years. We’d met as wide-eyed college freshmen and been friends ever since. In some ways, she and I were as opposite as she and her husband. We looked it, at least. Jessica was dark-skinned and curvy, with a gorgeous mass of black curls. I was fair—she joked that I was so pale I was clear—with blue eyes and long blond hair.
I smiled and waved, then got in line to order. It was busy for a Saturday, although there was still open seating. The woman at the head of the line appeared to be placing an enormous to-go order. She held up a pad of paper and checked things off a list as she spoke to the barista. Glancing at Jess, I shrugged. I’d be in line for a while.
The man in front of me looked back over his shoulder. “I hope you’re not in a hurry.”
“Fortunately not,” I said.
He shifted his feet, so he was partially facing me. “Me neither.”
My stomach tingled with pings of anxiety. Was he about to flirt with me? Was he just making polite conversation because we were stuck in the same line? He was nice-looking, casually dressed, probably a bit older than me—mid-thirties, perhaps. No sign of a ring. Cute. Definitely cute.
“Well, you know… There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Jane Austen, Mansfield Park.” I cleared my throat. “Never mind.”
“Do you go to school here?” he asked.
Being one of the youngest teachers at Woodward, I was accustomed to people mistaking me for a student. I tended to compensate by dressing in smart blouses and pencil skirts with practical black pumps. Pearls seemed to help. But today my casual clothes and careless hair probably made me look quite a bit younger than twenty-nine.
“No, I’m a teacher,” I said.
“Really?” he asked. “What subject?”
“Literature.”
“I guess that explains the Jane Austen reference,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “You know, what’s interesting about Jane Austen is that she wrote such witty love stories, but her own love life never worked out. In fact, the first man she ever fell in love with would have lost his inheritance if he’d married her. She was too far down the social ladder. His aunt whisked him out of the country to get him away from her.”
“Huh.”
The woman with the large order finally finished and the line moved forward.
“It could have been a plot for one of her novels,” I said. “Although if she’d written it, I think it would have had a different ending. It’s not like he came back for her.”
“Too bad,” he said.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I brushed a tendril of hair away from my face. I was so out of practice at this. Jessica caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. I winced and shrugged. What was I supposed to say now?
The cute guy got to the front of the line and put in his order. He gave me a small closed-mouth smile as he walked over to the other side of the counter to wait for his coffee.
“What can I get you?” the barista asked.
“Sixteen-ounce latte,” I said.
“A name for your order?”
“Ivy,” I said. She paused, blinking at me, her Sharpie poised over the cup. People were forever asking me to repeat my name. “Ivy, like the plant.”
She nodded and wrote it on the cup. I paid and glanced at the cute guy, but he was looking at his phone, so I went straight to Jessica’s table.
/>
“What was that about?” she asked.
I pulled out the chair and sat across from her. “What?”
“Why didn’t you keep talking to him?” she asked. “He’s cute.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “As soon as I opened my mouth, he looked bored.”
“Who did you quote?”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t—” I sighed. “Jane Austen.”
“Of course you did.” She patted my hand. “Maybe next time don’t lead with dead novelists.”
I crossed my legs. “I’m terrible at this. I belong in a world with strict social norms where it’s expected you’ll settle for a husband based on your family’s status.”
“Except in that world, you’re already an old maid,” she said.
I scowled at her.
She started to speak, but paused, her eyes focused on something to my left. “Wow. Hello, gorgeous.”
I glanced over my shoulder. A man stood a few steps inside the door. He was indeed gorgeous. Thick, dark hair. Exquisite bone structure, his strong jaw covered in stubble. He was dressed in a blue waffle-knit shirt and jeans—casual, but he wore it well. He was obviously lean and muscular—you could tell even through his clothes.
But his eyes. They swept across the room, like he was looking for someone, and for a second, they settled on me. Bright blue, they stood out in stark contrast to his dark hair and rough jaw. They looked… innocent, somehow. Almost strange in that face that was so rugged and masculine.
I blinked and tore my gaze away, hoping he hadn’t seen me looking at him. Jessica gaped, her lips parted.
“Jess, you’re married,” I said. “Stop ogling him.”
She startled, like she hadn’t realized what she was doing. “What? Oh, come on, I’m just enjoying the view. I’m married, not dead. Besides, no one could possibly be immune to whatever magic that guy has.”
I glanced at him again. He was probably the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in person. The kind of guy you see on billboards or in magazines—and you assume must be photoshopped in a hundred different ways, because no one actually looks that good.
This guy did.
Jessica started talking again and I watched the man from the corner of my eye. He took slow steps into the shop, looking carefully at everything. The way he moved reminded me of a detective in a movie—not the serious one with the gravelly voice and a drinking problem. The quirky one—the genius who no one really understands, but always seems to discover what no one else can see.
He stood back from the counter, studying the menu like he’d never seen one before. His brow furrowed, making a groove between his dark eyebrows. Two women came in and hesitated behind him. One said something, and he looked at her like he was confused that someone was speaking to him. But his expression quickly softened, and he smiled—a gesture that made him even more attractive—and waved them by.
“Ivy?” Jessica said.
I shook my head a tiny bit and turned to Jessica. “Sorry, I was… thinking about something else.”
“Thinking about Mr. Amazing over there,” she said.
“No.”
“Go talk to him,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“What am I supposed to say?”
She shrugged. “Hi, my name is Ivy. Would you like to have coffee with me?”
“That’s so…”
“What? Direct? Honest? Effective?” she asked.
I shook my head. She might have been right, but I wasn’t about to walk up to a man—especially a man who looked like that—and start a conversation.
“Ivy,” the barista called.
I went to the counter to get my coffee and I could feel the man watching me. My back prickled and the hairs on my arms stood up like I had goosebumps. Why was he staring at me like that? Beautiful or not, he was starting to make me uncomfortable. I glanced away as I went back to my seat.
When I sat down, Jessica’s smile was so sympathetic it bordered on pity. “I’m only bugging you about this because I want to see you happy. I know it’s been tough since… well, you know.”
“It’s okay, you know we can talk about my dad without dancing around the subject.”
After a grueling two-year battle with cancer, and a stroke near the end, my dad had passed away almost a year ago. Although I was coping with the grief of losing him, I was having a hard time restarting my life. When he was first diagnosed, I’d dropped everything to take care of him. Quit my job. Gave up my apartment. Moved home.
I had no regrets. I was grateful I’d had the time with him, even when it had been hard. But now I was ready to move forward with my life again. I just couldn’t seem to figure out how. Thanks to recommendations from Jess and Peter, I’d landed a teaching position at Woodward, so at least I had that. And I loved my job. But to say my personal life was lackluster was a vast understatement.
“I’m glad you’re doing better,” she said. “You seem like you’re adjusting. But I’d love to see you get out there more. You can’t spend all your time with your dog, or doing word puzzles.”
“I don’t.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“I hang out with you guys.”
“And we love you, but wouldn’t a date be nice?” she asked. “What about that guy you met who keeps hinting?”
Mr. Amazing had circled around us, and although I couldn’t see him, I was sure he was behind me. It was like he was magnetic. The urge to turn and look was almost more than I could resist.
I was distracted again. I brought my attention back to Jessica. “Blake, the guy who works at Dorset Financial? I don’t think he’s been hinting anything.”
“Sure he has,” she said. “Based on what you told me, he’s definitely interested. You just turned off your radar for too long, you don’t recognize it.”
“I don’t know. Even if he was hinting, he’s so… banker-ish.”
“You mean so much like Julian,” she said.
I sighed. I’d been dating Julian when my dad had gotten sick. Although I’d thought we were serious—maybe even forever serious—the strain of me moving ninety minutes away to care for my dad had taken its toll on our relationship. When Julian had gotten a job offer in Boston, he’d decided to take it. Which had meant leaving me behind.
“Yes, the fact that he works in finance reminds me of Julian,” I said. “Although that’s probably not fair to Blake. But I still don’t think he’s interested.”
“When will you run into him again?” she asked.
“I have an appointment at Dorset on Tuesday, actually,” I said.
Her lips turned up in a conspiratorial smile. “I bet if you give him the right signals, he’ll ask you out.”
“But—”
“Hear me out,” she said. “If he strikes up a conversation, just relax. Make eye contact. Smile a little. And if he does ask you out, say yes. Oh, and save the lit references for at least the second date.”
“I don’t know…”
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” she said. “You need a dating ice-breaker. Something to get you past this block you’ve created.”
Maybe she was right. I did want to get out of this rut. Maybe a dating ice-breaker would do the trick. I didn’t have to commit to anything else. Just a date. If he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. If he talks to me this time, I’ll try not to bore him into oblivion. And if he asks me out, I’ll agree. But I still don’t think he will.”
“I guess we’ll see.” She shrugged, looking a little smug, and took a sip of her tea.
Thankfully, Jess changed the subject, and we talked about work for a while. We both finished our drinks and I started wondering if they had any good muffins in the case up front.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed and she looked over my shoulder for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“What do you keep looking at?” I asked.
“Don’t look
,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Amazing has been sitting behind you this whole time and he keeps moving closer. He’s leaning toward you like he’s trying to listen in.”
My back tightened, and prickles ran up my spine. “Really?”
She nodded. “He might be cute, but he’s acting weird. Maybe we should go.”
I nodded and picked up my bag. Jessica situated herself between me and Mr. Amazing, as if she was worried he was going to attack me, and we left.
Outside, Jess pointed across the street. “I parked over there. Do you want to go out to dinner with us tonight?”
I smiled, genuinely grateful for the invitation. But staying home with Edgar was preferable to being their third wheel yet again. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Another time.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
After saying goodbye to Jess, I walked to my car. My mind kept returning to the man in the café. Why had he been watching me? Had he really been listening? It was so odd.
I got home and took Edgar outside, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Yes, he was attractive, but I’d never been one to get googly-eyed over a man, no matter what he looked like.
But those eyes. They were so blue. So searching. I could still see them, watching me, scrutinizing. There was something mysterious about him, like he was a puzzle. And I loved a good puzzle.
But I’d probably never see him again, which was kind of a shame. I’d have liked to know what he saw when he looked at me.
Continue reading Remembering Ivy…
Afterword
Dear Reader,
The path to this series was an interesting one. If you’ve read my recent books, you know the last two were stand-alones. They were also departures for me in some ways. His Heart was a deeply emotional ugly cry story that dealt with death, loss, grief, abuse, and the healing power of love. And Remembering Ivy had some twists, weaving a mystery through William and Ivy’s romance.
Broken Miles Page 23
