Miss Matchmaker: A Small Town Romance Read online

  “I forgive you. You were trying to tell me that night, and it was my fault you didn’t. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, and I only made it harder.”

  “But I found out it was you at the festival. I still went home and followed through with Cynthia after I knew.”

  To my surprise, Lucas shrugs. Even after what I did to him, he can just shrug and make it all seem inconsequential. But it’s not. Whether he forgives me or not, I didn’t make the right choice, and I’ll have to shoulder that guilt.

  “Water under the bridge,” he says simply.

  “I don’t feel like I deserve to be forgiven so easily. Like you should be mad at the very least.”

  “Well,” he says, letting the hint of a smile touch his lips. “I’m not mad, and I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you for long. You’re too damn sweet.”

  I smile, biting my lip and feeling my cheeks flush. How is it that Lucas always manages to appear at the right time? I run my hands down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his blue button-down shirt and the hard muscle beneath. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”

  He chuckles. “Sure as hell hope so, cause that would’ve been a long-ass drive to not be here.”

  “You said I’m safe… Just a minute ago. What did you mean?”

  “Well there’s the bad news. You trust me, right?”

  “Yes. For some reason, I do.”

  “Then we need to get a place for a little while. We can grab a room at a hotel under fake names and we’ll lay low.”

  I frown. “This isn’t making sense. What’s going on?”

  Lucas sighs. “I’d rather not scare you with all the details, but keeping you in the dark is probably just going to freak you out even more, isn’t it?”

  “Probably,” I agree, “because getting a hotel under fake names already has me imagining the worst.”

  “It’s my brother. I think he’s planning to use you against me. I don’t know how, but I know he wants me to sign over the ranch to him, and he thinks if he uses you as leverage I’ll agree to it.”

  “How does he even know about you and me?”

  “Cynthia,” says Lucas simply.

  I groan. “I didn’t think it was possible to dislike her any more than I already do.”

  Lucas grins. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  “Mr. Chris P. Bacon and Mrs. Dixie Normous…” says the poor woman behind the desk at the hotel. She pauses, clearly waiting for us to laugh and tell her they are fake names, but Lucas and I manage to hold our composure while she types our “names” into the computer and gives us our keys.

  We both break out laughing once we’re in the elevator.

  “I thought I had you,” Lucas says laughing so hard it’s easy to forget we’re only checking into this hotel because I might be in danger. “Dixie Normous? That’s too good.”

  I shrug, biting back a smile. “Your fake name wasn’t bad. But you didn’t dream big enough.”

  “Getting a big head, are we?” he asks. He’s holding his hat in his hand, but somehow his hair still manages to look perfect, with just the right amount of stray hairs dangling in front of his heavy eyes.

  An irresistible urge almost overcomes me. I nearly grab his crotch and ask if I’m the only one getting a big head, but the looming danger stops me. Just barely.

  “You’ll be fine,” he says, reading my expression. He rubs my cheek with the back of his hand. There’s a question in his eye--he’s looking to see if his touch is welcome.

  I grip his wrist, pressing my face into his palm and closing my eyes. “Where have you been my whole life?” I ask.

  He huffs a laugh. “Waiting for you, I think.”

  The door to the elevator dings and I jump back from Lucas self-consciously. A woman and her daughter step in. The woman favors us with an uncomfortable smile before smashing the button for her floor a few times.

  We reach our floor and Lucas makes us stop at the vending machine before we go inside. He plugs in a few bills and my eyebrows continue to rise as he punches in at least seven codes. The sound of candy and bags of junk food plopping to the bottom of the machine never seems to end. He scoops the loot into his arms and leads the way to our room.

  “Hungry?” I ask with a grin.

  “I skipped dinner and lunch to come get you. I could eat my way through this fucking door right about now.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of room service?” I pick up a bag of Cheetos from his arms and hold it in front of his face. “It has got to beat this junk.”

  “I’ve heard of room service,” he says grumpily as I open the door to our room. “Never had the luxury of using it, of course, but I’ve seen it in movies.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “You’ve never had room service?”

  “I’ve had food. And I’ve had waiters bring me food at restaurants. I don’t see the difference. They bring it to your room. So what?”

  “So you get to eat it in a bathrobe if you want. In your room.”

  “You had me at bathrobe.”

  I giggle. “You don’t strike me as the bathrobe type, come to think of it.”

  “I’m not. I mean you had me at you in a bathrobe. Go on. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, smirking and leaning against the wall with an expectant look on his face.

  “Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks color. “I’m starting to think this whole thing with your brother was just a trick to get me alone in a hotel room.”

  The amusement slips from his face. “No. My brother is really dumb and crazy enough to try something. The danger is real.”

  I sink down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never even met him. The idea that he’d hurt me seems so strange. I mean, what are we even going to do? We can’t just hide in this hotel forever.”

  “I know. I just needed to get here to make sure you were safe as soon as I heard about his plan. I’ve hardly had time to think about it, but it seems like the only thing to do is give him what he wants. I can just sell the ranch and give him the money.”

  I watch Lucas and the way his face contorts at even the thought of it. “You can’t do that. You already told me how much you love that ranch.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not worth risking you. Nothing is,” he adds more quietly.

  “Lucas… You barely know me. That ranch is the last part of your dad that you have. It means so much to you.”

  “Barely know you?” he asks, moving to sit beside me on the bed. “Let me tell you something, darlin’. A real man doesn’t need to go on twenty dates to make up his mind about a woman. When you strip away everything--the clothes, the self-consciousness, pretense, all of it--when you take that away all you’re left with is what’s here.” He puts gentle fingertips just above my heart, sending chills across my skin.

  “And goddamn if I didn’t like what I saw,” he says with fire in his eyes. “Hell, I didn’t just like it. I wanted it so bad it scared the hell out of me. I thought I must be losing my mind. So maybe when I found out you were hiding something from me it seemed like a good reason to take a step back. But…” he chuckles at himself, rubbing a thumb across his lip in a way that’s indescribably sexy. “Obviously I couldn’t stay away. Could I?”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” I say, a little breathless from his confession. “I feel it too. What you said. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but I really feel like I know you, the real you. More than I should possibly have a right to think I do.”

  “It’s not stupid. People make this whole romance thing more complicated than it has to be. When two people are right for eachother, it’s not a logical thing. You’re right for me, Mila. I felt it in my chest from the second I saw you, whether I wanted to admit it or not, like a fucking magnet pulling me closer and closer no matter how much I tried to fight it.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask breathlessly.

  “That I’m never going to make the mistake of letting you go again, not a chance in hell. You’re mine, darlin’, like it or
not.”

  “Like it,” I say, smiling and leaning my head into his chest. “I like it a lot.”

  12

  Lucas

  It’s already been a week since I came to the city to protect Mila, but it’s been hard to focus on the possibility of danger. With every passing day, it feels easier to believe Cynthia was blowing things out of proportion, or even making them up completely. I called in a few favors the night I left and made sure a few good men are taking care of the ranch. I, unfortunately, had to explain exactly how Missy likes her special nightly treat prepared within earshot of Mila, and now she has made a habit of giving me a hard time for being such a softie with the cows at least once a day.

  I don’t even mind though. Danger or no danger, being here with Mila, even surrounded by the dirty air of the city and the ugly views of steel and concrete, has felt right. It has felt so fucking right I never want to let it go. I’ve been keeping her up late and making her sleep in even later because I can’t keep my fucking hands off her, but she hasn’t complained. I almost enjoy waking up next to her with the bright sunlight streaming through the window of our hotel room as much as I enjoy fucking her in the dark.

  Almost.

  I’ve been trying to make arrangements to sell the ranch, even if it turns my stomach to do it, but Mila has fought me tooth and nail. She insists we should wait to see if my brother is serious before we do anything permanent, that the ranch is too important. As much as I fight her on it, and want to do whatever I can to keep her safe, I can’t help falling more and more for her every time she stands her ground to protect what she knows is important to me.

  She’s putting my happiness before her own safety, and if I wasn’t already dangerously tangled up with this city girl, she’s pushing me farther and farther over the edge with her selflessness.

  We’ve mostly been living out of our room. Though I hate to admit it, Mila was right about room service. Having the food brought straight to our room and being able to just set the dishes outside the door is more fun than it sounds. But I’m itching for some fresh air--at least as fresh as it gets here, and the idea of getting out has become so irresistible I can’t stop myself from suggesting it.

  “What do you say we go exploring?” I suggest.

  “Exploring?” asks Mila, who still wears her bathrobe with nothing underneath. When she leans forward on the bed to rest on her elbows, I get a view of her tits that nearly forces me to set exploration aside for a few hours while I take my time with her, but right now, not even that can stop my restlessness. I need to get outside, even just for a little bit.

  “Yeah, we could look around a little.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “Well, you won’t let me sell the ranch, right?”

  “Not a chance,” she says, getting immediately serious when she thinks she may have to talk me down again.

  I smirk. “Then we won’t know if he’s serious by staying in this room, fucking and eating room service, will we? Besides, if the bits of conversation I’ve heard with your friend Amy are any indication, she could really use your help back at the office.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” sighs Mila. “I told her to take a few weeks off since she was guilt tripping me about losing her vacation money. It’s her fault she’s sticking around trying to do everything by herself.”

  “So? What do you say?”

  “Let me just put on some clothes. You should probably put a shirt on, too. Not that I’m not enjoying the view, but I’m sure as hell not about to share it.”

  I snag one of the white t-shirts I’ve been living off of for the last week. As if room service wasn’t good enough, the concierge let us buy clothes and have them brought to the door. Mila and I have spent more time out of our clothes than in them, so it hasn’t been much of a problem that we don’t have our own things.

  I poke my head outside the door, looking both ways. I motion for Mila to follow me. She slipped into a white blouse and jeans that fit her surprisingly well. I can’t help sliding my hand around her hips and giving her ass a good squeeze as we move into the hallway.

  “This feels so dangerous!” she whispers.

  “We’re just walking through a hotel hallway,” I laugh.

  “Stop! You’re ruining the fun,” she laughs.

  We find an emergency exit. Text on the door warns that using the door will set off an alarm, but after a brief and intense struggle in absolute silence, I try the door. I raise my eyebrows in my best told you so and motion for Mila to head up the stairs. We climb the stairs for so long that Mila’s legs get tired, but I happily sweep her into my arms and carry her.

  I make a show of huffing and puffing after a few steps and falter, like I’m about to lose the strength in my legs.

  She scrunches up her face and slaps at my chest. “Stop it. I’m not that heavy.”

  I laugh, standing straight again and jogging up the stairs effortlessly. “Like carrying a feather,” I say.

  “Okay, I’m not that light, either. I’ve got a little meat on my bones.”

  “Hm. Like carrying a hard-to-please, feather that’s holding a small bag of potatoes?”

  She works her mouth to the side thoughtfully. “That’s better. I think.”

  “Potatoes are always better,” I say, kicking open the door at the top of the staircase dramatically.

  I set her down on the rooftop with a satisfied smile. “Damn, for a city view, this is pretty impressive.”

  “It’s amazing!” she says, doing an adorable little skip and spreading her arms as she twirls on the rooftop.

  The evening sun is creeping below the skyscrapers in front of us, staining the sky orange and purple. A chill has taken to the air, giving me the perfect excuse to wrap my arms around Mila from behind and pull her close. “You’re amazing,” I say, kissing her her earlobe and giving it a playful bite.

  “And you’re corny,” she says with an amused smile.

  “Not surprising. I eat corn like it’s going out of style, after all.”

  “Oh my God,” she laughs. “Are you practicing dad jokes or something? Are you trying to tell me I’m pregnant?”

  “No, but it’s not impossible. You were the one who couldn’t wait for a condom the other night.”

  “The chances of you getting me pregnant from one time aren’t high, unless you’re like… a freaking sniper.”

  I burst out laughing. “A sniper?”

  She bites her lip, smiling back. “You know, like you’re a straight-shooter… Doesn’t take many tries? Okay! Stop laughing at me. I thought it made sense.”

  “It does. It’s just funny.”

  The breeze kicks up and the door to the staircase swings shut with an ominous click that turns both our heads.

  “Did you happen to see if that door is unlocked?” she asks.

  “No…” I say carefully.

  We both hurry to the door and yank on the knob. My heart sinks when it doesn’t budge. It’s a heavy steel door, too, and there’s no chance I’d be able to knock it down.

  “Oh shit,” says Mila. “What are we going to do?”

  I turn, taking my first real look at the roof. It’s a bleak square of concrete with a three foot lip around the edges. There’s an air conditioning unit humming away near one corner, but nothing beyond that and the section of the doorway that we came from.

  I move to the edge, looking over as a wave of vertigo washes over me. “Fuck. How high are we?” I ask, stumbling back a little.

  “Are you afraid of heights?” she asks.

  “Afraid? No,” I say quickly. “But I have a healthy respect for what would happen if I fell that far.”

  “Fair point,” she says as she inches her way toward the edge and peeks over. “I think we’re maybe… thirty stories high? Do you remember how many buttons were in the elevator?”

  “I just remember there were three rows,” I say.

  “And quite a few buttons in each row,” she adds, but her brief enthusi
asm fades. “Not that knowing how many stories up we are helps.”

  “You have your phone?” she asks. “I left mine on the charger.”

  “It’s in the room,” I say. “Must’ve set it in the closet when I was changing and forgot to grab it.” I shake my head at my own stupidity. My feelings for Mila are clouding my judgment. I knew leaving the room could be dangerous, but I didn’t even bring my fucking phone.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” she says, moving to my side and rubbing my arms. “We’ll think of something.”

  “I have an idea,” I say. I sit down and take off one of my shoes. “I’ll throw this down there, get someone’s attention, and then we can signal for them to get help.”

  “You’re going to throw your shoe at someone from a roof thirty stories high?”

  I hold the shoe with a little less confidence than I felt a few moments ago. “Yeah?”

  “You’ll kill them!” she says, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. “Throw your sock or something.”

  I rip off my sock, ball it up, and grip the lip of the roof. I look down to the crowds of people moving below. They look so damn small from up here. “Hey!” I shout. “Hey! Up here!”

  Like I thought, no one so much as falters in their step. We’re too high and the street is too noisy for anyone to hear or notice us. I try my best to aim the balled up sock, dropping it carefully, but the wind takes it off course almost immediately.

  We watch helplessly as it drifts into the street and is promptly run over by dozens of cars. “Fuck,” I growl. “A shoe wouldn’t catch as much breeze.”

  “You’re not dropping a shoe on somebody, Lucas,” says Mila.

  “Wasn’t saying I would. It was just an observation.”

  “Try your other sock.”

  I try again, dropping the last sock closer to the building this time in hopes that it might avoid some of the breeze. It still drifts, but the streets are crowded enough that it lands directly on a woman’s head. She stops, gets bumped into from behind, and appears to get into a shoving match with another woman before both parties storm off without so much as looking up.