All They Ever Wanted (5 page)

His hand was steady now, though, when he slid a plastic container along the countertop toward her. “Here, I put some of the lemon ones aside for her. I know she likes those,” Miles said quietly.

His gesture was a sweet one and so unlike the man he pretended to be that Lori was momentarily caught off guard. She peered at him from beneath her lashes and for a fleeting moment she watched as a hint of vulnerability flickered in his eyes. But just as quickly it was gone and his mouth formed that familiar arrogant line.

“Any progress on catching the idiot who ran my mother off the road?” Miles asked.

The sheriff shook his head solemnly. “I've scoured the entire county for a car matching the description of the one your mother thought she saw. But it was twilight when it happened. Who knows if her description is even accurate? Chances are the driver never saw your mother on the bike. And all it would take was a slight bump to push her over the embankment like that. Whoever was behind the wheel might not have known anything happened. There likely wouldn't be any damage to the car, either.”

“Someone has to know something,” Miles protested. “At the very least if they were driving on that road that evening, they should come forward.”

“I can assure you, Miles, that I'm following up on every possible lead out there,” the sheriff said through clenched teeth. “I want the creep who did this brought to justice just as much as you do. I won't rest until I catch him or her. You can count on that.”

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen. Both were used to solving Patricia McAlister's problems. But this time might prove to be the exception.

“Can I go with you to the rehab center, Sheriff?” Cassidy grabbed her own plate and tossed a sandwich on it as she asked. “I've got an hour before I need to open the Patty Wagon for the evening and I'd like to say hi to Mrs. Mac.”

Lori tucked some plastic wrap over the plate she'd filled for Patricia. She'd added some fresh fruit and a sandwich along with the cupcakes, knowing her friend would enjoy eating something healthy. The sheriff gave her a nod as he took the plate from her and headed for the door.

“Oh, by the way,” he said over his shoulder, “I just heard on the radio that Faye Rich is putting together a write-in campaign. She's been a good friend to the local Fraternal Order of Police over the years, Miles. You're gonna have some ground to make up there.”

He was out of the door, Cassidy at his heels, before Miles could respond.

Lori busied herself by opening the industrial dishwasher and filling the kitchen with steam, hoping that when it evaporated, Miles would, too.

“We need to talk.”

No such luck apparently. Ignoring his looming presence on the opposite side of the room, she emptied the flatware onto a towel she'd spread on the counter. “Why start now?” In the nearly two weeks he'd been staying at the B and B, he'd barely spared her a word. Not that he'd spoken to her all that much before moving in here.

He chuckled and Lori hated how much she liked the sound of it. “Because it sounds like I may need you to make some of those cupcakes to take over to the station house as a bribe.”

She gently stacked the plates onto the counter. “Wow, I can't imagine which one is stinging your pride more, Dudley Do-Right—having to ask me for help or contemplating bribing officers of the law.”

Another charged silence settled over the kitchen and Lori glanced over her shoulder to see Miles actually grin at her. “Did you just call me Dudley Do-Right?” His tone sounded as much insulted as amused.

Startled by his demeanor—not to mention what it was doing to her body—Lori resumed her task of unloading the dishwasher so he wouldn't see the pleasure in her own eyes. She heard Miles move away from the counter, his footsteps sounding deliberate as he crossed the kitchen to stand behind her. His distinctive scent teased her nostrils and she could hear his steady breathing as he inched behind her. Lori's own breath caught in her chest, making her words sound raspier than she would have liked. The last thing she wanted was for Miles to know how he affected her.

He chuckled again, the rich sound close to her ear. This time her ovaries did a somersault. “And all this time I thought you didn't respect me.”

Lori grabbed a pot out of the dishwasher and walked it over to the cabinet by the stove. She needed some space. Lots of space. “What do you want, Miles?”

When he didn't immediately answer, she turned to face
him. A look of anguished conflict shadowed his face before he quickly shuttered it. Miles raked his fingers through his hair just as an explosive sigh passed through his lips. “I don't have the same blind faith in people that my mother has. And I certainly don't buy in to the bullshit about this town being the haven for second chances.”

Reacting to the change in his tone, Tessa walked over and sat protectively on Lori's foot.

“Be that as it may,” he continued. “My mother trusts you with her most prized possession: this B and B.” Lori wasn't sure, but she thought she heard a hint of disgust in his voice. “It's likely that I'll need to be away from here more than I had originally planned. You do good work. The rooms are clean, the guests are well fed, and I've had no complaints. Keep it that way and don't bring any trouble to my mother's doorstep and we'll get along just fine.”

Lori kept her glare level and hard. “It doesn't matter to me whether you're here or not, Dudley. I promised your mother I'd keep the inn running to her standards until she's able to do it on her own. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep that promise.” Unless, of course, she had to leave, but she figured knowing that would make Miles even more agitated, given his little spiel about bringing trouble to the inn's door.

“And when she's able to do it on her own? Will you be moving on?”

His eyes bored into her and Lori suddenly wasn't sure what she wanted the answer to be. Too bad she knew what it had to be. She nodded once. “Most likely.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “You didn't happen to pinky swear on that with my mom, did you?”

He was laughing at her, damn the man. She pushed past him to finish putting away the dishes, nearly tripping over the dog that had become a clinging vine. Miles' chameleonlike temperament had her nerves frazzled. One minute he was the arrogant despot and the next . . . the next she was thinking about how it might feel to have him kiss her. She let out an irritated hiss as she tripped over Tessa a second time.

“Sorry,” he said. “It's been a long day and I'm feeling a
little punchy. I appreciate your honesty, Lori. You are being honest, aren't you?”

She glared at him over her shoulder. He smirked back at her while he smeared a generous helping of chicken salad onto a slice of bread and took a big bite before closing his eyes. Moaning loudly, he chewed slowly. Lori quickly turned away before she melted into a puddle on the floor.

“Okay, the cooking definitely stays as one of your tasks.”

“We're dividing up the work?”

“I think we already covered the part about me having to campaign more.”

Lori gave the counter a vigorous wipe with the towel she'd used for the silverware. “How about this: I clean the rooms, do the laundry, prepare the afternoon tea, cook the meals, serve and clean up breakfast, and you”—she turned to point at Miles, who didn't even have the decency to look the least bit chagrined—“can stop coming behind me and counting the bottles of wine, the tea towels, or the crystal? Will that free up enough of your valuable time to schmooze with your future constituents?”

He studied her for a long moment. “It's suddenly not so hard imagining you on the run.”

Tears stung her eyes as she turned back to scrubbing the already clean counter.

Miles released a heavy sigh. “That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

“You can't afford to piss me off, Miles.”

“Believe me, I know that. That doesn't mean I have to like it.” Lori tried not to cringe at his words.

“But there's more to be done around here and you know it,” he continued. “Let's not forget about the guests. I'll need someone to check them in and out. Cassidy can't always cover for me.”

Lori quickly turned around to face him, unwilling to concede this one. “She'll have to because I can't.” The less Lori interacted with the guests, the easier it was to preserve her anonymity.

“Can't or won't?” Miles demanded.

“Does it really matter to you?”

His body recoiled slightly, but his gaze never wavered. “Fair enough. We'll work something out.” He studied her again; this
time it seemed as though his gaze was boring right through her. “You're a fascinating woman, Lori. Definitely tougher than I expected,” he said softly. “Truce?”

She glanced down at his outstretched hand debating with her common sense whether to touch him or not. He was a politician. A man who would say or do anything to get what he wanted. His chameleon personality was simply a tool he used to seduce voters—and lonely refugees if the clamoring deep in her belly was any indication. But he was right; she was tough. She had to be if she was going to survive what her life had become.

That sizzle she felt whenever he was around spread up her arm as he wrapped her hand in his much larger one. “I always keep my word, Miles. If nothing else, you can count on that.”

He held her hand a moment longer than was necessary and his face relaxed as though he'd just won a hard-fought concession from her. “That's just what I needed to hear.” Releasing her hand slowly, he closed the gap between them, coming to within inches of her body. His nearness caused her breath to hitch in her lungs again. Lori was grateful for the baggy cargo pants and long-sleeved T-shirt shielding her skin from the heat radiating off his body. She dug her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching up and stroking the five-o'clock shadow that was forming along his jaw. Miles hesitated, seeming to inhale her scent as he murmured something inaudible. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but then he reached behind her, grabbing a leather folio off the counter and pulling out a piece of paper. “Then you won't mind filling out this.” The paper floated to the granite. “Tomorrow's payday and I can't write you a check without the proper forms.” He took two giant steps back and Lori shivered at the loss of his body heat. “Come on, Midas. Let's head over to the campaign office. We've got some strategizing to do. We have a full house for breakfast tomorrow, Lori. See you then.”

As Miles walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, Lori stared down at the W-2 form. It was all she could do not to cry. Or laugh hysterically. Miles' pleased expression told her he thought he'd won this round. Once she had a word with his mother, however, he'd find that he hadn't.

T
he early morning sun felt warm on Miles' bare shoulders. One of the perks to living back in Chances Inlet was being able to run off some steam along the beach every day. Due to his demanding workload for the governor, his morning jog in Raleigh usually took place on a treadmill, with the occasional weekend run through a local park. Today's run wasn't giving Miles the stress relief it normally did, however, thanks in part to the trio who'd decided to join him.

“It all sounds like some Hollywood B movie.” His brother, Gavin, easily kept up with the strenuous pace Miles had set. “A grandmother just decides that selling cars isn't as much fun as it used to be. So she decides to run for Congress because she has some crazy idea that she can loosen the gridlock that is our government
.
I'm sure some producer is already casting about for an actress with Faye's down-home charm.”

“Actually I think the opposing party approached her for a monetary contribution and she decided, ‘What the heck, I can do this myself,'” Coy said from just behind them.

Will Connelly, star linebacker for the Baltimore Blaze and the guy who for years had evened out the odd number of boys
in the McAlister household, glanced back over his shoulder at Coy. “Who's this guy again?” he asked Miles.

Coy puffed out a breath and sprinted forward in an effort to keep abreast of the other three men. “I'm his body man,” he said.

Gavin chuckled. “No offense, dude, but I don't see much future for you as a bodyguard.”

“Not a body
guard
, a body
man
,” Coy huffed.

This time it was Will's turn to scoff. “The ‘man' part is debatable, too. Are you even old enough to vote?”

“Lay off, guys.” Miles zigzagged around the foamy brim that clung to the shoreline. Not that his brother and their friend weren't voicing concerns that had already kept him up most of the night. The phone call with the governor hadn't gone as Miles would have liked. His boss had no intention of reassigning the kid. Miles knew that the governor had assigned Coy Scofield III to his campaign as some sort of political payoff. He hadn't minded having the kid as his shadow when there really wasn't much of a race to speak of. But things had changed. Now Miles needed someone with a little more than just a pedigree to help him strategize.

But Coy Scofield II was a sitting federal judge in Lumberton, as well connected to the state party as one could get. And the original Coy Scofield had occupied the very seat Miles was gunning for before being named United States Secretary of Agriculture. The governor had made it very clear last night that Coy Number Three was staying put.

Governor Rossi promised to provide as much support from his own staff as he could, but there was no way to remove the kid and still save face. Not when the governor had his own reelection coming the following year. Making matters worse, the governor didn't seem too concerned about Faye Rich's write-in campaign. And that worried Miles even more.

“Will, is Julianne still hosting her big Fourth of July shindig at the Dresden House?” Miles asked. He was going to need a little grassroots action of his own. Will's fashion designer wife had lots of celebrity friends, as well as a United States senator for a brother. With a little schmoozing, maybe
he could enlist the help of a few for personal appearances. Thanks to generous contributions in the early part of the campaign, Miles had a fairly substantial war chest, but some free star power couldn't hurt.

Will snorted. “Of course she is. The baby is due a week after that and you'd think she'd want to settle down and nest, but not my wife apparently.”

“Too bad she doesn't design for Betty White,” his brother teased. “You probably just lost that demographic.”

“On the contrary, Miles scores very well with seniors.” Gavin and Will snickered at Coy's statement. “It's true. According to polls, the elderly find Miles' character to be impeccable. A straight shooter. They perceive him to be as trustworthy as a Boy Scout.”

Gavin was out and out laughing now. “That's your problem with the ladies right there, Miles. You're too proper. Maybe you need to start carrying a leather riding crop with you.”

“Hey, I'm just glad to know you can still score, Miles,” Will added. “Even if it's only with geriatric women.”

“Oh, Miles scores well with
all
women,” Coy said, clearly missing the subtext of the conversation.

“I hate to break it to you, Coy-Boy, but I don't think Miles has scored since high school.” Gavin jabbed his brother with an elbow to the ribs.

Flipping them off, Miles jammed his ear buds in and cranked up some Red Hot Chili Peppers in order to drown out the two idiots running beside him. While Miles was close to his siblings, he wasn't one for sharing all the intimate details of his personal life with them. Let his brother think what he wanted, but Miles certainly wasn't a monk by any means. He just needed to be very careful whom he dated, especially now that he was on the campaign trail. A casual hookup was out of the question. And a happily-ever-after gig like the ones Gavin and Will had were not for him. Ever. He'd loved like that once and he still carried the scars.

The song ended just as they reached the stretch of beach across from the inn. Gavin doubled over to catch his breath
as Miles yanked out his ear buds. Coy huffed to a stop beside Will and immediately pulled out his phone.

“Awesome, the local affiliate from Wilmington is going to cover our trip to the Sunset Dunes Senior Center today.” His announcement sent both Gavin and Will back into peals of laughter.

“Hey, you guys can laugh all you want, but the senior vote is the most critical piece of any election. Do you even know why that is?”

Will and Gavin sobered up quickly, each casting a curious glance at Coy.

“Because they actually
do
vote,” Coy continued. “Even in the nonpresidential years, they cast a ballot. Seniors accounted for over sixty-one percent of the vote in the last election and there's no reason to think that will be any different this time. And with Faye Rich in the race, that's going to be our battleground. She'll likely position herself as one of them, saying who better to represent seniors than someone who's walking the same walk. That's certainly how I'd do it. But as long as Miles scores with the trustworthy image of a guy who respects and cares about the elderly, there's no reason we can't beat her.”

A small spark of pride flickered in Miles' chest at the emphatic pitch Coy made. The kid certainly was passionate about the race. Unfortunately, it took more than just passion to win an elected office in today's world.

Coy turned toward Miles. “I'll come by the inn to pick you up at ten. Be sure to consult the clothing chart Bernice laid out for you. We need you looking your best in front of the camera.”

And just like that, the spark was extinguished.

“Bernice is
not
telling me what to wear,” Miles growled. Gavin was doubled over again, but this time not from the effects of the sprint down the beach.

Coy puffed his chest out. “Bernice is consulting with people from Greer Rossi's team. We're lucky to have the governor's daughter working with us on the campaign. She is one of the most respected image consultants in the business right
now. And because of her long-standing friendship with you, she's eager to help us out. Don't argue with what works, Miles.” With a nod to the other two men, Coy hiked up the steps leading over the dunes and out of sight.

Will's eyes were full of mirth, but he wisely kept the laughter out of his voice. “The kid might be wimpy but he's got some decent brains in that egghead of his.” He checked his phone. “Gotta bolt. I have a date with my son and a Tonka truck.” He took a step before he paused and turned to face Miles. “Look, Miles, it goes without saying that Julianne and I will contribute whatever you need. And the senator still owes me for his interference in my career last year. So you just say the word and we're there for you. Just don't let The GTO Granny get under your skin. You're a natural politician. The kind that everyone wants to believe still exists. As long as you don't lose sight of that, you'll be fine.”

He cuffed Miles on the shoulder and exchanged a fist bump with Gavin before taking off at a jog down the beach to his own house.

“Will's right, you know,” Gavin said as they climbed the wooden steps leading them from the sand to the green grass stretching out in front of the B and B. “You've got this. I've known you all my life and you've never backed down from chasing your dream. My one bit of advice: Don't let Bernice dress you in anything orange. It messes with the blue in your eyes,” his brother teased.

Miles slammed his shoulder into Gavin's, trying his best to knock his little brother on his sorry ass. But Gavin also carried the McAlister DNA and he proved to be a tough take-down. Before they knew it, they were both grappling on the grass.

“Hey, you two boys quit messin' around and git over here. I need help gittin' your mama's house ready for her to come home today.”

Morgan Balch stood next to his pickup, smacking a piece of plastic pipe against his palm as though he was going to knock some sense into the two men. The old coot had worked for their father for as long as Miles could remember. Miles
released the choke hold he had on his brother, only to have Gavin hit him with a wet willy as they approached the pickup parked in front of the two-bedroom carriage house their mother used as her private residence.

Built in the same era as the inn, the one-story building boasted the identical gingerbread framework and peaked roof line as well as a smaller version of the inn's veranda. Behind it was an intimate wooden gazebo where Will and his wife, Julianne, had exchanged their vows the summer before. Connected to the inn by a fifty-yard walkway with clematis plants growing over the trellis roof, the carriage house afforded his mother some privacy away from her guests.

“Miles has to go get himself all dolled up for a photo op, Morgan. Sal and Jorge are supposed to be here at nine to put together the ramp for the stairs.” Gavin glanced at his phone, presumably to check on the whereabouts of his two employees.

Morgan grumbled something that sounded like “too big for their britches” before pulling down the tailgate to the truck. “I got your mama some of these handicapped thingies that are supposed to make her bathroom safer. I'm just not sure which ones she'd like best.”

Miles exchanged a look with his brother. While their mother would appreciate the sentiment, he wasn't sure she'd appreciate the nod to her advancing age, especially given Kate's little confessional bombshell yesterday.

Gavin grinned, clearly happy to throw Miles under the bus. “You've got your finger on the pulse of the senior demographic, bro, so you should definitely pick.”

He shook his head in frustration. “Any of them will be fine,” Miles said, done with his brother's teasing. “Thanks for taking care of this, Morgan. I'll be back tonight to help with whatever else needs to be done.” Ignoring his brother, Miles headed to the inn and a shower.

He heard Gavin say something about calling their sister Kate to help and then his brother's footsteps were eating up the ground between them.

“Dude, wait up,” Gavin called. “You know I'm just having
some fun with you. It's so rare to find a wrinkle in that perfect bubble you live in that I have to bust your balls a little when I can.”

Miles took the steps leading to the veranda in one stride. “Practice your standup routine on someone else today, Gavin. I have a shitload of work to do.”

“Look, I can rearrange my schedule so that Ginger and I aren't in New York next week. That way, we can handle things at the inn if that will help you out. I know this thing with Faye Rich kind of blindsided you.”

He turned to see his brother standing at the bottom of the steps with his hands on his hips, eager to jump in and save the day.
Again.
A wave of residual frustration washed through Miles every time he thought of Gavin putting his career—not to mention his life—on hold to protect their family.

“No, you've already done your fair share.”

Gavin swore under his breath. “My way may not have been the right way, according to the
Book of Miles
, but I had everyone's best interests in mind. Especially Mom's. At some point you need to let me off the hook for not telling you Dad's secret.”

Miles waved his hand. “Water under the bridge, little brother.” And he meant it. Miles didn't know what he would have done differently in the same situation, but he could still hate that he'd never gotten the opportunity to try. “Go build your fancy lofts in Manhattan. I can handle the B and B. Besides, Mom will be home today. She can take over the decision making. And with Cassidy and Lori around to do most of the day-to-day work, everything should be fine.”