Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “Is it so bad to think that you might be stuck here with me?”

  “Of course not,” she said, glancing at him and grinning before looking back to the windows. “But ice scares the crap out of me. I remember that horrible storm from about a decade ago. I was in med school in Lexington, and everything shut down. And we also had that bad ice storm just a year ago. I was without power for days at my house.”

  “No need to worry about that,” Prent said. “I’ve got a generator as well as plenty of firewood. We’ll be fine if we’re marooned out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Miranda had brought enough clothes for an overnight stay. But if their time together extended beyond a night, she definitely was lacking in one important thing if Prent expected to pass a lot of that time in bed.

  The oven dinged, and Prent asked Miranda to extract the potatoes. She did so and prepared the salad. In the next few minutes, they were sitting across from each other at the eat-in kitchen, savoring their meals.

  “Mmmm,” Miranda intoned upon her first bite of steak. “Been a long time since I had something so tasty.”

  “Save your praises. The night is still young.”

  He raised his eyebrows suggestively and brought his glass of bourbon to his lips, never taking his eyes off her. She slid her hand across the surface of the table, where Prent lightly clasped it and brought it to his lips.

  “So glad you’re here,” he whispered as their hands returned to the surface of the table.

  After an extended silence in which the smoldering looks they gave each other could have melted all the ice falling within several miles, Miranda asked him about his buying trips. He revealed that he would be gone for extended periods in January.

  “I wish you could go with me,” he said. “I’d love to show you the forests. They’re so beautiful. And there’s something about looking at a tree, knowing it’s perfect, being able to see the barrel in it.”

  “You’re like a barrel midwife.”

  “I like that,” he said, pointing his fork at her.

  The lights flickered, and they both froze.

  “I should’ve moved my car out of all that damned ice.” Miranda scooted to the edge of her chair, ready to leave.

  “No worries. I put it in the garage when I went to get your bag.”

  She was about to thank him when the lights went out. They were not plunged into total darkness since Prent had placed a few small votive candles on the table, either out of practicality or romantic notions. He excused himself to go deal with the generator and get some more firewood while Miranda cleared the table and served slices of pie.

  The power returned in a few minutes, but it was a dim half-light. Miranda wondered how long the generator would work and whether Prent had enough fuel for what could possibly be a long outage. She heard him return through a back door then deposit a load of firewood on the hearth.

  “How long are we good for out here with just the generator and firewood?” she asked as Prent took his seat.

  “A few days,” he said and dug into the pie.

  She swallowed at the thought of being snowbound—or icebound, as it were—with Prent for days on end. Romantic fantasies aside, she had a medical practice to manage.

  After dessert, they retired to the large living room in front of the roaring fire Prent had promised. Miranda inhaled deeply and flopped onto the brown leather couch.

  “That smells so good. Is that a special kind of wood you’re burning?”

  “Broken staves from the cooperage.” He pointed to a cut barrel sitting by the hearth, filled with portions of staves, their splintery, shard-like ends sticking up precipitously. “They burn great and smell like heaven. It smells like the cooperage here.”

  After kicking off her shoes, Miranda slipped her legs under her body and snuggled close to Prent.

  “So work is heaven?”

  “No way,” he said. Prent took her drink and put it, along with his own, on the table behind him. He turned and faced her, putting a hand to her cheek. “This is.”

  As he moved to kiss her, Miranda cast her eyes down.

  “Prent, I need to say something.”

  “Just let me kiss you first,” he begged. He came closer, moving his hand from her cheek into her dark, thick locks.

  She could not deny him.

  His kiss was tender at first but soon exploded into something raw and needy. Prent was on top of her in seconds as Miranda responded by moving her arms around his neck and wrapping a leg around his waist. His lips trailed to her neck while his hands slipped under her sweater.

  “What’s this?” he asked once she felt his hands hit her satin camisole.

  “A little something to keep me warm.”

  “I can do a better job.”

  He dipped his head to the curve of her neck and dragged his tongue along her jawline, down to her collarbone until it skirted along the edge of her sweater. She was at that tipping point between giving into lust or interrupting their foreplay so she could tell him what she needed to reveal.

  With great effort, she placed her hands aside his head and forced him to look at her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “They say confession is good for the soul, but I’m not so sure it’s good for us.”

  “And that implies it’s something bad. Something I won’t want to hear,” he said sadly as they sat up together. He ran a hand over his face, and she thought she saw tears in his eyes. Swallowing, he turned to her. “You’ve changed your mind about getting back together, haven’t you?”

  “Not at all. There’s no place I’d rather be than with you. My fear is that you’re going to be the one to change your mind about us when you hear what I have to say.”

  He quickly pulled her against him, holding her tightly.

  “That will never happen, Miranda Chaplin.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He slowly her, but Miranda kept her eyes on him, breathing heavily. She was about to be relieved of the burden of her secret.

  But she wasn’t sure she was prepared for the repercussions.

  “The day of our wedding… the day you left me at the altar… I was prepared to do the same…”

  He blinked, his mouth dropped open, his face a reflection of confusion mixed with denial.

  “But… but you were at the church when I called you. My mother talked to you. You were there—and I wasn’t.”

  “Before you called me, I had decided that when you arrived at the church that we shouldn’t go through with it. Like you, I’d gotten cold feet. We would just tell everyone it was a joint decision,” she admitted as she saw the shock expand across his face. “Every doubt, every fear, every little whisper of regret… They all found me that day, Prent. I became convinced you’d end up leaving me, do something crazy, or something from your past would come back to haunt us. I was so afraid something terrible would eventually happen to us…”

  “You were going to ditch me?”

  She nodded and began to weep.

  “I’m sorry… and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but now that we’re trying to pick up the pieces, I knew I had to be honest with you and—”

  “But I did exactly what you feared, Miranda. You were right about me. I left you before you could do it to me.”

  “You’re… you’re not angry?”

  “No. Maybe a little disappointed. But after everything that happened, I’d be the biggest hypocrite on the face of the Earth if I held it against you. Hell, that’s the reason I didn’t show up! I couldn’t bear the thought of it not working out for us.”

  They gaped at each other, lost in the absurdity of the revelation until Prent flung his arms around her and held her so forcefully it hurt.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t show,” he said in a rough voice.

  “And I’m sorry I kept that inside for so long,” she said against his chest, feeling so relieved that she might fall asleep against his body. “No more secrets. No more worries.
”

  With her arms around him, she could feel his body shaking. She pulled back to see his face contorted with anguish.

  “Not exactly. Because now I get to confirm your worst fears about me.”

  15

  He rose, picked up a few broken staves, and tossed them onto the fire. The wood hissed and cracked as the flames consumed them, sending sparks flying onto the stone hearth where the embers glowed hot orange before dying a rapid death.

  His back to her, Prent placed his hands on the mantle, dropped his head, and stood crucified against the bright fire as it leapt up the chimney.

  “You were right about me in more than one way, Miranda. My past has caught up with me,” he whispered. “Do you remember that old girlfriend of mine who called you once?”

  “Don’t tell me she’s back. Nothing she could say could—”

  He turned, his face shrouded in shadows.

  “Ainsley’s mother called Cord the other day with the news that Ainsley’s dead. Died in a car accident.”

  “Oh,” she said, startled by the news but confused as to why he brought it up. “Is that why you’re upset?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “But why would the mother contact you? Did Ainsley have something that belonged to you?”

  His short laugh was bitter, ending with a choked sob as he fell onto the couch next to her.

  “I’ll say. She had my son.”

  Miranda’s innards twisted into a thousand knots as she looked at Prent, his internal turmoil written across his face in tears and tenseness. She took one of his hands.

  “Ainsley’s mother says I have a four-year-old son,” he whispered as he clutched her hand.

  “You didn’t know.”

  He shook his head forcefully, eyes shut against the tears.

  “No idea. She dumped me so fast, threatened me, then disappeared. It’s obvious she never wanted me to know, that she was going to keep this from me forever. I’m getting to the point where I can be mad about it—about her deceit, not the fact that I have a child. I’m angry that I didn’t get to know him, that I didn’t get to see him growing up. And I’m fucking furious that I didn’t have the chance to deal with it years ago. Maybe I should’ve expected this. I seem to screw everything up in the end, despite my best efforts. Everything was so perfect, like a puzzle snapping back together, now this.”

  He paused and took a breath while Miranda, still in shock, could only stare at him as he slipped his hand from hers.

  “I wouldn’t recommend your leaving in this ice storm, but I’ll completely understand if you want to go lock yourself in a bedroom all night after what I just told you. I know that if there weren’t a nasty storm out there, you’d already be on your way to your car in the garage. Because if this is our final breaking point, I can’t be surprised. I’ve given you too much to bear.”

  She reclaimed his hand, and her own tears returned.

  “Maybe you have. But you’ve always given me the two things I need to endure it.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes. Your honesty and your love. And I need to add one more thing to that list. Your forgiveness. I told you my secret tonight, and you understood. You forgave me.”

  “Are you… are you actually saying you can handle me having a child?”

  “Prent, you’ve never lied to me. You’ve never kept anything from me that had the potential to hurt me. I can’t say that I’m particularly happy about this, but I know you’re doing the best you can. That’s all I expect from you. And I promise I’ll be there for you through this if you want me to be.”

  “Yes, I do and… So we’re not over?”

  “We never were.”

  Miranda pulled him to her, wanting to comfort and consume him in that moment of mutual need and mercy. His lips soon claimed hers as he leaned her back against the smooth leather until they were in the same position they had been before her revelation.

  There would be no more interruptions that night, no more tears except of joy or relief.

  Prent pulled back and searched her face.

  “I love you, and I’ll never understand why you love me.”

  Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers again, claiming, sweeping, and devouring before moving to her neck to tease that sweet flesh. His hands crept under her sweater and the satin camisole until his palms cupped her breasts and his thumbs stroked her already-taut nipples through the fabric.

  Miranda sighed as he unclasped her bra and then slipped his hands onto her breasts, without removing his mouth from the tender, sensitive skin under her jaw. Her hands found the buttons of Prent’s shirt, and he moved his head back from her; they held each other’s gaze as her fingers fumbled and descended.

  Miranda tugged at the shirt once she reached the last of the buttons, and then Prent’s muscular chest was exposed to her for the first time in years. She splayed her hands across the expanse, savoring the feeling of his skin against her fingers and inhaling the scent blossoming from his body when the shirt fell away from his shoulders.

  He smelled of fire, wood, earth, food, and home—all the primitive things a heart and body crave.

  Prent loomed above her as the fire’s light flickered and danced across his exposed skin, bathing him in a delicious, erotic glow and mimicking the mounting desire burning inside her. As she drew her leg over him until his hips pressed against hers, he removed her top garments, leaving her naked above the waist. Miranda shivered, despite the warmth of the fire, and he pressed his chest against hers.

  “I promised to keep you warm, remember?” he asked.

  He rubbed his body against her breasts, and it was deliciously carnal, causing her to grind her hips against him. Miranda pulled him into a deep kiss as her hands explored the tense muscles of his back, her fingertips pressing into his sinews. His hands swept around her hips, then found the clasp and zipper on her pants. She shivered again but not from the cold.

  “Maybe we should get closer to the fire,” he whispered in her ear.

  He stood, pulled Miranda to her feet, and gave her a quick kiss. Prent then took an old quilt that was on the back of the couch and unfurled it on the thick green carpeting in front of the hearth. He gathered several oversized pillows from the couch and nearby chairs and tossed them on top of the quilt.

  Miranda put her palms on Prent’s chest and looked up at him.

  “Here? You want to make love here?”

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, which were speckled with gooseflesh.

  “It’s cold up in my bedroom. I had to adjust the heat to make sure we won’t run out of fuel for a few days, so this is probably the warmest spot in the house. Besides, isn’t this the most romantic thing we can do? Make love in front of a roaring, spicy fire in the middle of an ice storm?”

  “It all sounds a little too good to be true,” she said as he gathered her closer, and she relished the warmth pouring off his body and from the fire. “Like a dream.”

  “No, a dream come true.”

  She no longer could distinguish between the heat from the fire and from their bodies as Prent’s hands moved to the exposed skin along her torso and down to her pants. Already unhooked and unzipped, her trousers easily fell to the ground with a few tugs. She kicked them away as they continued to kiss, and Prent’s hands slipped beneath her panties to cup her ass.

  Miranda drew her hands to his waist, undid the button and zipper, and soon his pants were on the floor, leaving him in nothing but socks and a tented pair of boxers. With his tongue tracing the outline of her lips, Prent slid his hands lower along her body.

  He slipped his fingers under the slim elastic of her panties and tugged until the scrap of cloth fell to the floor. With a deliberate brush of her wrist against his hardness, Miranda performed the same movements around Prent’s waist. She had to tug a little to get the boxers over his erection, but soon he was standing before her, nude save those socks. She dared to glance down and see that familiar endowment but was torn fro
m her enjoyment of the view by recalling their dilemma.

  “Prent, do you have any protection?” She grimaced at the bluntness of her tone.

  “I—I think so,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t think—I mean, there’s been no one else for me, Miranda. But I don’t want there to be any doubt about this, so—” He stopped, looking a little hurt and began to move away from her and toward the stairs to the second floor of the house.

  She took his hand, and he drew near to her, with his erection pressed against her tummy.

  “I trust you. That’s not it. It’s just that I’m not quite as prepared for this as I thought.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Before I came here tonight, I got ready. I packed my bag, took a little extra time with my makeup and hair—and made sure I took my pill. But I didn’t pack those pills. I didn’t think I’d be here for longer than one night, so…”

  “Ah. We need a backup plan.”

  “Exactly.”

  Prent ran from the room and up the stairs, laughing. While he was gone, Miranda arranged pillows and quilts on the floor. By the time he returned, she had draped one quilt over herself, was on her back, head on a pillow. Prent smiled and opened a hand, sending a shower of little square packets to the floor.

  “Looks like you were more prepared than I thought!”

  “Haven’t needed them in years. When was the last time we used one? It’s been that long for me.”

  Prent reached for the edge of the quilt and slowly peeled it away from Miranda, revealing her nude form. She felt the warmth of the fire behind her and the heat of Prent’s desire rolling off his body as he knelt and lay next to her. With their heads on the pillows, they smiled and reached for the other.

  “I remember the last time I was in this house,” she said softly, stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Shortly before our wedding.”

  “That was the last time we made love. And you told me that the next time I saw you naked, you’d be my wife.”

  “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  Prent moved his hand from her hip to her breast, and she rolled over on her back.