Besotted: An Enemies-to-Lovers Small-town Romance (Carmel Cove Book 3)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Wait!”

  I halted at the door, Ace freezing in step behind me. We both turned to see Eve walking toward us, her jacket and her bag over her shoulder.

  “I’ll take him home, Ace,” she said firmly, coming right up to the man who was easily twice her size and insisting to be my escort like she was ready to take him down if he said no.

  “Eve, I don’t think he’s—”

  I tensed as her hand touched the back of my shoulder.

  “He’s fine, and I’ll be fine. Thank you.” There was a second of silence where I could hear the drumroll of their stare-down. “But you should keep an eye on that guy. I have a bad feeling about him.”

  That was my girl.

  Eve

  Once we were out of the crowd, pieces of me that were steady and resolute began to shake. I could pinpoint the moment I knew something was really wrong—and it wasn’t when Trent, as he introduced himself, reached for my hand, eager to ask me something or invite me somewhere with him after work. Yeah, I knew that Trent, with his slicked brown hair and shiny black suit, deep purple tie, and gigantic watch, was bad news.

  But holding out for my fairy tale meant I’d dealt with guys like that before, so I knew how to handle him.

  One of the very first things Addy and I had done when her and Zeke moved back from San Francisco was take a martial arts course from the Covington’s geared toward women’s self-defense. Since then, the brothers had offered the class to all the Blooms’ residents.

  So, no, I hadn’t been worried about Trent at all; I could’ve easily restrained his drunk ass for not respecting my answer that I didn’t want to go to a party with him later.

  What worried me was the look on Miles’ face when he walked back inside.

  I’d hoped to see him tonight. I’d hoped to talk to him. The courage and determination that swelled after the talk with my sister deflated like a pin-pricked balloon when I didn’t get to say hello, much less take his order, before that group of college students began chatting with Miles and the older Covingtons.

  Work made time move fast, but every glimpse I caught of my man-bunned, angry Aquaman made those seconds excruciatingly slow. And then I saw him hold up his phone and disappear outside.

  It was during those minutes that I was too distracted to be as firm as I should’ve been with the sleazy suit. And when Miles appeared in the door again, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  Not of another person. A ghost of himself.

  I recognized the look because it appeared every so often on my sister’s face when she looked at photos of herself from before—before Frisco, before her last relationship, before her blue hair, before Blooms. She saw a version of herself that was scary and painful and disappointing all at the same time. And that was how Miles appeared.

  I’d never complain about the way he put Trent in his place and laid him flat on the bar. But I had an inkling it wouldn’t have happened the way it did if he hadn’t just taken that phone call.

  “Fuck.” Miles swore under his breath. Hands on his hips, I watched him tip his head back and look up at the night sky.

  I let myself indulge in the way the pose pulled his tee tight against his chest, the way the cords of his throat tensed and pulsed to the beat of his anger.

  “Where’s your car? I’m taking you home,” I said calmly, deciding to tackle one obstacle at a time.

  He looked over at me with a tempest in his eyes and lips that disappeared into a steadfast line in the storm, and then he began to walk.

  I wondered if Ujjayi breathing was developed to deal with this man. Letting the air settle heavily in my lungs, I held it for two seconds before exhaling a long and slow release as my feet followed him.

  We walked down to the entrance to the beach, passing the hot dog stand, and stepping onto the sand. I paused to slip off my sneakers, watching him grip the sides of his head in frustration before shoving his hands into his pockets.

  It was hard to not say anything but necessary. Whatever happened, Miles hadn’t had time to process. He’d just reacted. So now, I waited for him to make the first move.

  It was only a few steps later when he spoke. “You don’t have to do this. You can go back to work. I know you need the money.” The hoarseness in his voice said the last was one more grievance he was going to add to his pile of self-loathing. “Fuck, I’m such an ass. You should really go.”

  I knew Benny and the rest thought he was drunk and that was why he’d caused a scene. And I knew they were wrong. Which was why I grabbed my stuff, downed my last antibiotic for the day, and stepped in with Ace.

  Miles wasn’t drunk. He was hurting.

  And as dangerous as it was to let a drunk man wander home on his own, it was worse to let a hurting one go. The alcohol would wear off, the pain wouldn’t.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I informed him, steeling myself for a fight. “You want to tell me what happened back there?”

  The white noise of the ocean filled in the silence.

  “That guy touched you when you didn’t want him to. I made him understand that there is no world where that is acceptable.”

  Goose bumps came out to play over my skin.

  He was too rattled to notice or care about how possessive—how serious—he sounded right now.

  “Right,” I agreed, jogging a step or two to catch up with his strong stride. “I wasn’t talking about that jerk though. I want to know what happened to you…”

  “I overreacted,” he grumbled as we turned the corner into the cove.

  Why were we going back here?

  I would’ve asked if we weren’t in the middle of this conversation.

  “Miles.” I reached out and grabbed his bicep, forcing him to slow.

  He whipped around to face me, long strands of his hair hanging raggedly in front of his face like he’d just returned from battle. But unlike the blood from your heart, the blood spilled by your soul was harder to see.

  “Who called you?” I asked softly.

  He stood poised, as though had I been any other person, he would have continued to fight. But I wasn’t any other person.

  I was just Eve… the girl who was so utterly besotted with the broken man standing in front of me.

  “What happened, Miles?” I pressed, my hand sliding down his arm to intertwine my fingers with his. “Just let me share this with you… just for tonight.”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat. This was the start—the unlocking of the gates I’d used to keep this part of me safe.

  “My past. That’s who came calling,” he replied bitterly. “Calling to remind me how everything I want will never be anything but a fucking lie.”

  He pulled his fingers from mine and turned to storm down the beach, the ocean washing away his footsteps.

  My body jolted in pain, feeling like with every second and every step, he was washing away any connection that might have held him to me.

  “Miles!” I harrumphed and stormed after him.

  Oh, no. I shook my head as I jogged to close the distance. He wasn’t walking away from me again.

  “I’m not leaving you like this! I’m just going to keep following you,” I insisted, my toes barely finding the tracks left by his heels as he stormed through the cove. “Until you tell me what’s wrong, I’m not leaving.”

  He made it to the rocks and then halted, his head tilting in their direction, remembering the last time we were at this spot. Remembering the feel of his body over mine. The way he created a fire inside me that burned the ocean water off my skin and then drank that heat from between my legs.

  Spinning to face me, he had the angry-god look down perfectly. Even the ocean seemed choppier the closer he got to it, like this man’s pain was too much for his body so Mother Nature was trying to take some of it away.

  “They always talk about the boy who cried wolf, but no one ever thinks about the person who continued to believe him each and every time. I was that person. I was that fool,” he growled.
“How do you move on? Forget believing her, how can I believe myself? My instincts? I can’t… I won’t. Only took a thousand mistakes for me to open my eyes; I won’t shut them again.”

  There was no mistaking his meaning. This was why forever wasn’t in his cards, because he’d already played it. In fact, he’d bet everything on it and lost.

  My heart broke. It was never about me—never about trusting me.

  He didn’t trust himself.

  Miles shook his head and stepped away from me, reality crashing over me like a rain storm—cold and bone-drenching. I felt the breeze. I felt the cold water licking the edge of my foot. I realized somewhere in the conversation, I’d dropped my shoes on the sand. It felt like even the night and the cove itself was just as despairing as he.

  “Go home, Eve. I’m fine.” And then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heartbroken and agape.

  What a pair we made… the romantic and the reticent.

  The girl afraid to give anything less than forever and the boy fearing that forever would take more than everything he had to give… neither of us willing to trust our feelings when it came to the other.

  But it all starts with one night—one chance to change everything.

  I jogged behind him to catch up, feeling the spray of sand against the back of my legs, like fine fire spurring me on.

  “Miles, wait!” I called, following him around the bend in the rocks.

  My eyes lingered on the singular stone he’d laid me over the last time we were here, and I shivered as I moved past it. Past that boundary. Past the walls I’d built. And all in search of him.

  “Eve.” He whipped around, but not before I saw what was on the other side.

  His Jeep.

  His house?

  Against the satin midnight sky, unblemished by sparkling stars, I saw Miles’ Jeep parked on the beach with a tent-like thing sitting on top of it.

  My lips parted and, for a second, I completely ignored him as I tried to process the picturesque sight.

  Dim light hummed from inside the tent and, at first glance, it looked like the roof was made of stars. I tugged my glasses tighter to my nose and squinted, realizing it was just a collection of small lanterns and string lights that draped around the outside that made it look that way.

  He lived here. Above the earth. In a house made of stars.

  “Oomph!” I stumbled back as my legs were bulldozed by a large, furry mass. Instinctively, I reached down to steady myself and to scratch the top of Kona’s head.

  “Dammit, Kona,” Miles grumbled. “Get back over there.” His arm shot out, pointing back at the car where I could see there was a dog bed laid on the sand below one of the lights.

  “You live here…” My voice faltered at the end, unsure if it wanted the words to be a question or a statement. Either way, they were the truth.

  My mind connected all the dots. Why he was here swimming late at night. Why he insisted that the cove was his.

  “You really should go.” His gaze pinned mine from beneath his lids. I was mesmerized by the forceful rise and fall of his chest, like inhales and exhales were two sides of a battle inside him.

  “I’m not leaving you like this,” I stammered, stepping toward him. His body tensed at the advance. “And I don’t care if your car is parked here, or if you are living out of your car, this isn’t your cove. You can’t make me leave.”

  Miles planted his hands on his hips, his fingers resting precariously on the bones that jutted out from the toned muscles surrounding them. His head fell and shook side to side, laughing bitterly.

  “Stop running from me, Miles. Stop running from this.”

  His eyes shot up to mine and he stalked over to me, brimming with anger and lust, neither willing to be controlled.

  “Eve, you’re the one who better start running from me. I told you, I don’t want this. I can’t want this.”

  You can, I wanted to scream. I wanted to kiss him and force the words down his throat.

  The salty particles in the air clung to my throat as I tried to breathe. I was so strong, so determined, until he was right in front of me, inside my space, making it so foggy with desire I couldn’t see anything clearly except that I wanted him.

  “So, you don’t want me then?” I asked thickly, pain blooming in my chest instinctively from all the other times he’d shut me down. “You know, you can’t have it both ways.” My indignancy broke through my words like thorns on the stem of the raw, red truth. “You can’t stick your tongue in my pussy one weekend and then push me away the next.”

  His head jerked up. Now, I had his attention.

  “You can’t threaten a guy in a bar for touching me—for flirting with me—when you are the one who wants nothing to do with me. When you are the one telling me to go back to the bar right now—back where that guy is.” My accusations rang with bright fury like only the truth can. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Trent would be a better choice …”

  That was a lie.

  But sometimes, a lie is just the first step to the truth.

  With a low growl that made even the ocean retreat into silence, Miles hauled me against his hard body. My thin T-shirt and black yoga pants from the bar clung to my skin and let me feel every solid inch of him. Every solid inch of determination. Every solid inch of the wall he’d built to protect himself and refused to break down.

  “I don’t want you going anywhere near that fucker. Any-fucking-where.”

  My breath tumbled into my lungs, fresh air that came from the other side of his walls that I was finally breaking through.

  What exploded was that fire inside me, lighting every inch and making me wet between my thighs; it was the same fire that jammed the thick rod of his erection against my stomach.

  “You want to know why I wiped the bar down with that asshole’s face?” he demanded, the heat from his breath painting my skin with possessiveness. “Not just because he was bein’ handsy and a dick, but because he touched you.” His eyes narrowed into slits. “He touched you and in that split second, all I could think was that nobody touches what is mine. No-fucking-body.”

  My body burned as my tongue darted out to wet my lower lip.

  “S-So you do want me?” Maybe being bluntly obtuse wasn’t attractive but I needed to hear the words. “Because you can’t insist you don’t, but then refuse to let anyone else have me, too.”

  “Evie,” he said my name with a strangled voice. “I want you more than it seems possible to want something, let alone someone. Even knowin’ you might be my downfall wouldn’t stop me from wantin’ you, sweetheart.”

  “Then why are you trying to make me go?” The words faded into the sound of the ocean as soon as they were uttered.

  “Because it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. And if I can’t give you forever, I won’t take you.”

  He made to turn away again, so I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed his face and hauled his lips to mine, their hard line dissolving underneath my tongue.

  Desperate.

  It was the only word for that kiss. Like when the clouds hang heavy with rain and are desperate to let it go, or like when the sea pulls back from the shore and then rushes forward, desperate to crash over it again. Our kiss was desperate not because it needed to take but because it needed to give.

  I whimpered with relief and need when he didn’t try to resist. There was no more fight, only his tongue as it claimed every forbidden inch of my mouth, licking and stroking every inch. Detailed and thorough. And I knew why. He kissed me like he was tasting his last supper—the last gift before his sacrifice.

  “Eve…” Miles groaned, his lips pulling back barely a breath from mine.

  I struggled to catch my breath. The cool, California night air fogged between us, desire clinging to it like dew.

  I knew what it felt like to be comfortable in a resolution. I’d been comfortable for the past decade in the choice I’d made to save myself for my forever
man—my permanent prince. And now, even though it seemed like I was making the complete opposite decision, I felt that same, soul-settling comfort.

  No shame. No betrayal. No sacrifice.

  I felt sure that this man was what I wanted, no matter how I had to take him.

  “Just one night,” I blurted out, and his eyes widened like I’d grown another head.

  Hardly a second later, that determination was back as he commanded, “No.” His head shook. “It’s not what you want, Evie.”

  “No! I want you, Miles.” My fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, savoring the beat of his heart underneath them. “I want this. Whatever it is, I need it more than I need the surety of forever. M-Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the person we’re meant for isn’t the one we end up with,” I rambled. “And even if what we have doesn’t last past tonight, I’d still take one night with you rather than never having felt the fairy tale.”

  It may have only been a few seconds that it took him to process my words, but I watched the change come over him like the clouds clearing from the sun.

  “You sure, Evie?” he rasped softly, one hand coming up to tug the tie off the end of my braid, letting the strands slowly unravel in his fingers.

  It was the simplest, most sensual touch. Perhaps a warning that my fairy tale was about to be unraveled. Rather, I saw it as a promise, that my fairy tale was finally being set free.

  “Even knowing it might be my downfall wouldn’t stop me from wanting this night with you,” I repeated his words and tore down the last ramparts of resistance that had been slowly shredded apart over the past few weeks in our battle of wills and wants.

  From the moment I saw him, I’d only wanted him. And I was sure that even if it wasn’t glass slippers and fairy godmothers, there was a happily ever after here worth fighting for.

  Maybe it was from a lifetime of being a hopeless romantic, but even knowing I was risking forever didn’t feel like a risk at all.

  So, I’d take this one night with him because I believed one night would change the rest of our lives.