Accidental Rebel: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Or for every reason I shouldn’t be feeling.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, taking the cup and stepping back as he carries his into the living room.

  “The kids know we’re leaving this morning. I told them last night,” he says, “but I said I’d let ’em sleep in. It’ll be a long-ass day on the road again.”

  My heart clenches. I’d hoped, prayed, that he’d come to his senses during the night.

  Probably as foolish as believing I could finish a novel. Toby the dog bolts through my mind, and I pinch my lips together, forcing it to go away.

  Forget the dog. This is worse.

  I’m a grown woman. Shane and Lauren don’t belong to me any more than Toby did.

  Neither does Miller.

  And it’s totally my fault if I’ve let them crawl under my skin, heading for emotional nooks and crannies I should know to guard against all the painful, disappointing crap life loves to hand out like Halloween candy.

  Turning, I watch him in the living room. The blankets and sheets he’d used are all folded neatly and stacked on the end of the sofa. His computer, suitcase, and duffel bag are gone. Everything.

  “Any luck on that route? Figuring it out, I mean?” I ask, staring glumly into my cup.

  “Ontario, probably. Then maybe all the way to New Brunswick. The closer we can get to a transatlantic flight by land in a place without too many people, the better.” He looks at me sharply, his gaze softening. “You’ve done your part. No use worrying about us. I had to leave something for Manny Fuckface, and I’ll be sure you get your cut.”

  No. A sense of near panic hits.

  “You don’t have to leave!” I’d spent a good portion of the night wishing I hadn’t been so quick to fume. I’m usually not and can’t say why I was last night, even if he kinda deserved it, but I won’t be this morning.

  Cool, common sense is what I need. “I said I’d help you, Miller. That hasn’t changed. I’ll go to Ireland or wherever else. I’ll make sure Mother doesn’t get in the middle of it. Just leave that to me.”

  He sets his coffee cup on the coffee table with a clink. “Babe, your help isn’t the issue.”

  Sighing, I walk into the living room and sit down on the chair. “Then what is? What’s changed?”

  Shaking his head, he says, “I can’t risk being compromised.”

  “Compromised? By me? By Mother?”

  A brief smile flashes on his lips before it turns deadly serious.

  “By anyone, Gwen. The kids and I need to get the hell out of this country. Safely. Soon. The devils I worked with have big bucks at their disposal. They could hire whole strike teams to find us. Can’t take any chances on someone discovering where we are before then and tipping off the wolves.”

  I nod, my chest tightening. Even if I already knew, hearing it doesn’t help. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I barely know anyone around here to begin with.”

  “But everyone must know your ma? She’s famous.”

  I look up, puzzled. Then it dawns on me why he’d think that. “Right. She is, but she’s also a very private person. That’s why she picked Finley Grove. Most people don’t recognize her, and the few that do...”

  The way he’s shaking his head has my words fading.

  I’m not convincing anyone, least of all him.

  I’m not even sure why I’m trying, stringing this along.

  “Still too close for comfort,” he growls softly. “Sorry, I just can’t take the chance. You’re a celebrity’s daughter, and that alone makes you newsworthy. Your connection to her. Someone could easily tip off the gossip rags about a man living here with you, about the kids, and our cover would be blown to kingdom come.”

  Sigh.

  I can’t deny what he’s saying. Because in a different sense, if I ever do finish a novel, it’s the same reason I won’t use Mother’s contacts. I don’t want someone buying my work simply because I’m M.E. Court’s illustrious daughter, and surely the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  “You get that, don’t you?” he asks. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

  “I understand your concern,” I admit, “but I have my own, too. Mainly about Shane and Lauren. They’re comfortable here.”

  “Right now, comfort isn’t what they need.”

  As if on cue, a thud sounds upstairs. We both glance up.

  Miller stands up and steps around the coffee table. A heaviness pools in my stomach like molten lead.

  Hopping to my feet, I twist for a better look up the staircase. “Just wait. I’ll talk to Mother and—”

  “No,” he says. “Gwen, I’m damn sorry, but this is how it’s got to be. The kids know we’re leaving. They’re throwing their shit together. Let’s not make it harder.”

  I’ve never felt so powerless before, so torn.

  I really don’t like how it’s just getting worse every ten seconds.

  He lays a hand on my arm, rough and calloused. It’s as thick and comforting as the rest of him.

  I so don’t want to stare into those hypnotic blue eyes of his. I so don’t want to get burned. Maybe I just wanted to dream. That never hurt anybody, right?

  “Thanks for everything, Gingersnap. You made my kids very happy the past few days during the worst time we’ve ever had. I’ll always appreciate that. Never, ever gonna forget it.”

  He’s. Killing. Me.

  I have to close my eyes, hating how torrid my emotions hit, how bad I am at fighting back the sting of tears.

  The burn gets worse as he moves closer, his warm lips briefly touching my cheek. It’s so quick, it’s gone when I open my eyes.

  And so is he.

  Unshed tears blur my vision as I watch him disappear, climbing the stairs.

  I hear the murmur of voices then and just know he’s right, that this will be hard enough on the kids already. So I move into the kitchen, using a paper towel to dry my eyes and dig the ingredients for breakfast out of the fridge.

  I’m not much of a cook, but this morning, that’ll change.

  It’s the least I can do to give them one more nice sendoff.

  * * *

  Nice sendoff?

  Yeah, right.

  Half an hour later, Miller’s busy yanking the battery out of the smoke alarm while Shane holds open the back door, coughing. All so I can carry the pan, burnt beyond any future use, outside.

  Miller put out the fire with baking soda before he got a chair to silence the smoke alarm.

  When the kids first came down, they’d been somber, sad, carrying their luggage slowly to the garage like it weighed ten tons. Now, even though our eyes are burning from the smoke, we’re all laughing at my disaster – with relief. And still sputtering a bit as we suck in fresh air while standing on the back deck.

  “That was so cool!” Shane laughs. “I never saw bacon catch on fire before.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen Daddy leap over an island before,” Lauren’s face scrunches up like an elf. “He looked like a superhero!”

  “Nah, Ninja Turtle!” Shane says, jumping off the deck.

  “Then what was Gwen?” Lauren takes a big leap too, following her brother.

  “Awesomesauce, that’s all I know,” Shane tells her. “Shame it’s stinking up her place.”

  I was hardly awesomesauce – his words – but I guess I had swept Lauren off her feet and hauled her out of the kitchen when the flames began roaring.

  “You sure you didn’t get burned?” Miller asks me.

  “Positive,” I answer. “I just wanted the bacon to cook faster, so I really cranked up the heat.”

  “Bacon’s not something you can hurry, Gingersnap,” he says, grabbing both of my hands and flipping them over, searching for burns.

  I spread my fingers wide, letting him look, before I say, “See? Everything’s still in one piece.”

  He nods, face deadpan, and then pats his chest. “Good. I’m still not sure about the heart attack here.”

  My own heart nearly
stops, until I comprehend he’s teasing. I give him my best teasing grin back, although I haven’t used it often. “I took a CPR class once. Lucky you. I know what to do in a medical emergency...fire, not so much.”

  He laughs. “Like you know how to cook bacon?”

  “I was improvising, okay? Can’t help it if my usual breakfasts just involve yogurt and berries.”

  The glimmer in his eyes swells as he steps closer. “Improvising?”

  My heart stops again, but this time only because it needs a second to shift gears. Right into flights-of-fancy mode.

  Heat flushes through my system and I can barely breathe. Trying to hold it together, I nod.

  “So would you improvise with CPR, too?”

  Probably, because I’ve never actually used it, just took the classes years ago.

  He leans in closer. “Like the mouth to mouth part?”

  Holy hell.

  His gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips and back again, this hungry glint that nearly causes another fire emergency here.

  The idea of his lips touching mine? Unreal. Unbelievable. Unforgivable.

  My mouth goes completely dry, though. My knees tremble, threatening to give out.

  Yet, I can’t peel my eyes off him. Off his face, his smile, his mouth. Off every what-if thudding in my pulse.

  He smiles again. “Fuck. You’re making me wish I was having a heart attack, Gwen.”

  I fight the urge to lean forward. It’s only a matter of inches, and my lips will touch his, but I can’t do it.

  I can’t.

  But the next thing I know, I’m being pulled through the open patio door, into the house so quickly, I stumble to keep up with him. He wheels me around the island and into the kitchen before stopping.

  “I shouldn’t do this,” he whispers.

  We’re face to face, mere inches apart, and all I can think about are those furious lips of his on mine.

  “Screw it,” he whispers. “You’ll forgive me later.”

  I think ten things happen at once.

  His lips touch mine.

  His tongue twists, mine curls, and then all ten of my fingers and ten little toes scrunch up in pure, unadulterated bliss. Oh. My. God.

  I taste him. Hints of coffee and mint toothpaste and, more importantly, Miller Rush.

  It’s delicious, raw, masculine, and heavenly.

  It’s so intense I forget to breathe, just oozing into him, his ragged stubble grazing my skin as he pulls me closer.

  My knees nearly go out again. But this time it’s the heat – oh, hell, the heat! – this raging, aching sweetness pooling between my thighs, sending lightning to my core every time his tongue chases mine and–

  The kiss stops just as abruptly as it started. Those big blue eyes of his are narrow now, focused and on fire.

  He reels me in closer, his big arms holding me tight. My chin rests perfectly on his shoulder.

  That’s never happened before with the few guys I’ve dated. I’m so tall, dancing with men is awkward, let alone hugging. Their heads are usually below mine, not close to being level, and never above.

  It feels so good, so right, so natural I swear on everything I could just pitch a tent and camp out forever on Mount Miller Rush.

  I’m bracing for him to kiss me again, wanting to give back as good as I get, when a familiar, annoying, and totally out of place voice sounds.

  I jerk up in his arms, his fingers going tighter. We both listen.

  No freaking way. It can’t be?

  “Gwendolyn!” Mother says again, calling so loud there’s no mistaking it.

  Crud.

  We fly apart like someone just lit a firecracker between us. He spins toward the stove and I march to the living room, where Mother must’ve conveniently let herself in, now rounding the divider wall.

  “What on earth?” She waves a hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkling. “It smells like burnt bacon in here.” Giving me a look that includes a thoroughly mom head shake, she asks, “You weren’t trying to cook it, were you?”

  I huff out a heavy sigh. “No, Mother, I was trying to burn the place down so you could never rent it out again. Surprise!”

  I don’t even care about the embarrassment. I’m steamed that her ambush just ruined one of the hottest, most spontaneous moments of my life.

  She cocks her head, her greying hair bobbing, and stares for a moment.

  Something deep inside tells me she knows. There’s no hiding anything from her freaky sixth sense. Bringing a boy home to do anything wasn’t even possible in my teens for good reason.

  She knows. Just knows that Miller and I were on the verge of making out only seconds ago, and now we’re hosed.

  “So glad Miller was here to save you,” she says firmly, leaning to look around me to where he’s wiping down the stove, “and this lovely townhouse.”

  I swallow the bitter lump in my throat. I can’t even manage an annoyed nod.

  “It wasn’t that bad, May,” he calls from the kitchen. “Just a little bacon grease. Got it under control and we’re working on the cleanup.”

  Mother saunters to the table, where she can inspect the big pan with its full pound of charred bacon still wafting smoke outside on the glass table. “A little bacon grease? I’ve seen prettier mishaps on the Fourth of July.”

  The kids see her and come running inside. Just great.

  The truth that it was more than a little bacon grease will definitely be out now, so I look toward the kitchen, but my feet don’t want to move. If they do, I’ll be close to Miller again.

  Too close to the perfect man who’s in the middle of trying to pack up, hit the road, and leave me forever.

  As the kids start spouting stories about superheroes and Gwen the Firefighter, I decide Miller just might be the safer bet after all, and I force my feet to walk.

  He has most of the baking soda wiped up. The grin he beams my way helps me regain a tiny bit of pride. Not to mention self-control.

  We clean the kitchen while Mother shows the kids the brand-new gifts she’d brought this morning while she was “just out shopping.”

  A new set of young adult books for Lauren and a video game for Shane.

  We busy ourselves making breakfast all over again, trying to ignore the latest drama. This time, it’s Chef Miller cooking and me following his lead, whatever I can help with.

  There’s no more bacon, thank God, but Miller manages to whip up a platter full of French toast and a big pan of scrambled eggs. I slice up some strawberries and set a container of whipped cream, plus some syrup for the French toast, square on the table.

  “Will you stay and eat with us, May?” Lauren asks my mother.

  I hold my breath, glancing at Miller. It’s a miracle neither of the kids have mentioned leaving yet.

  “I wouldn’t dare miss it, you sweet little thing,” Mother says, walking over to shower more affection on the girl with kisses to the head.

  He just shrugs.

  I suppose it doesn’t matter.

  They’ll be leaving right after breakfast, won’t they?

  My heart sinks clear to my toes again and stays there. I’ll never know whatever strange, beautiful thing was about to happen before Mother barged in like a dragon breathing shame instead of fire. And maybe that’s a good thing.

  Someday, I’ll get over it, I tell myself. Someday.

  “Come get it while it’s hot.” Miller carries the platter of French toast to the table.

  We all find a chair and sit down to eat. The food is incredible, the kids keep Mother occupied, but there’s a heaviness growing in the room.

  It’s so intense by the end, I can barely swallow, and what I do manage to get down, curdles.

  Even Mother seems unusually quiet, listening to the kids, and that only adds to my discomfort. Nothing gets past her. Never has.

  So it surprises me when, as soon as she’s done eating, she stands. “That was delicious, Miller, but I’m afraid I have to run. Call with my pub
licist. I just came by to look in on Gwendolyn. Let’s meet again soon, as long as you’re in town, hmm?”

  Miller nods without saying a word.

  Both Lauren and Shane turn more somber. The sadness in their eyes at Mother’s words, at what she doesn’t know, is enough to stab me right in the heart.

  “I’ll see you all later,” she tells them cheerfully. Her gaze bypasses me, and she turns to Miller. “Say, Miller, would you be so kind as to walk me to my car?”

  Uh-oh.

  Whatever’s coming, I knew it. I open my mouth to protest, to lie, but he just places a hand on my arm and squeezes.

  “Gladly, May,” he whispers, never taking his eyes off me.

  I feel sick.

  He stands, and as they head out together, my shoulders slump. I can’t follow, not with Shane and Lauren watching me. Fresh hope shines in their eyes, as if Mother can wave a magic wand and change Miller’s mind into staying here.

  She can’t. Nobody can. I know that, and I’m trying like mad to accept it.

  It’s difficult, but I try to catch the cheerful bug from Mother as we clean the kitchen together. Once that’s done, since Miller still hasn’t returned, and because I know the inevitable is coming, I give the kids each a couple grocery bags and say they’d better fill them with snacks.

  It’s only fair. Miller paid for it all after another recent grocery run to stock up, and I won’t even eat half of it, so they might as well take it with them. I know I won’t have a real appetite for some time.

  He returns just as the kids are finishing up, and seeing the kitchen clean, he nods. “Come on, guys. Time for us to go,” he says quietly.

  The children don’t even protest. They’re too well behaved.

  Lauren throws herself at me first, then Shane. I’ve never wanted to keep hugging anyone this bad.

  Miller doesn’t make a move, and I don’t expect one. He’s a smarter person.

  I’m dragging my feet as I follow them into the garage and hit the open button while they’re climbing inside the Equinox.

  “Thanks again. For everything, beautiful,” he says, lingering with his hand on the driver’s door for a second before he climbs inside.

  I don’t trust my voice to work, so I just nod.

  My eyes are burning up and my heart’s blazing down. This feels like it did all those years ago, when Toby’s real owners drove away with him, but amped up on steroids guaranteed to cause one thing. Heartbreak galore.