Be My Midnight Kiss Read online

  “You’ll be a hundred and four by the time you get through teaching Laken basic carpentry skills.” Ian had grinned to show that he was teasing.

  He wasn’t wrong, but Laken deserved credit. She was an enthusiastic if low-skilled worker. Scraping old paint off woodwork, sanding old pine floors, peeling off wallpaper—none of those fit into her previous lifestyle of mani-pedis, stilettos, random hookups and clubbing. But oddly, she seemed to want the roots of the home’s history as much as he did.

  I don’t want her doing manual labor anymore, though, he had wanted to say. He’d wanted so badly to share his news with his brother, to tell Ian he was to be a father, too. He knew he would be a good one and man, he was so ready. After a lifetime of being an only child, he wanted all the family he could get.

  But Laken wasn’t ready, just as she wasn’t ready to marry him.

  If he hadn’t dealt with skittish animals for so many years, his patience would have flat run out. His Laken—and damn it, she was his, ring or no ring—was more nervy than any of them.

  The back door creaked open, and suddenly, there she was.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi, yourself.” He dried his hands and turned to her just as she caught his mouth in a heated kiss.

  Not being a stupid man, he didn’t waste any time, yanking her closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered her body all along his. He forgot all about his bruised leg in the heat of how much he wanted her. That never changed, except to deepen, to grow stronger.

  If he could just be patient a little longer, maybe…

  Abruptly, Laken broke the kiss, breathing hard and staring intently at him.

  “What is it?”

  She closed her eyes and glanced away. His heart sank. Lately she’d been hot and cold with him, and he was trying not to lose faith that what they had would prove strong enough to overcome all her doubts.

  Give her a break. Don’t pressure her.

  He swallowed his pride once more and let go of the topic that troubled them both. For different reasons.

  “Guess what Ian did tonight—”

  “Okay, let’s tell Ian and Scarlett and your mom and Gordon—” she spoke at the same moment.

  He blinked.

  “Wait, what did Ian do?” she asked.

  He kept himself very still. Didn’t let hope soar. “Tell them what?”

  She flushed. Cast her eyes down. “You know. About the baby and—”

  He was almost afraid to breathe. “And what?”

  When she glanced up, her eyes were shy. His bold, brassy Laken—shy. “And…” Then it was she who swallowed hard. Took a deep breath before continuing in a rush. “And oh my god I hope you won’t regret this and I’m terrified you will, but do you still want to get married?”

  It took him a minute to believe his ears. “Seriously?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Her eyes filled with tears. Her fingers stroked his face. “My poor Michael. What have I done to you, you patient and too-kind man?”

  He laid his hand over hers and closed his eyes. “I am surely the happiest man in the world right now. The love of my life is going to marry me and have my baby and—” His eyes popped open and he lifted her in his arms, then twirled her in a circle “—and we have a horse!”

  She started laughing while Ajax danced around their feet, barking and wanting to join the fun. “We have a what?”

  He wrapped her up so tightly he wondered if she could breathe, but surely she could if she was laughing and—

  Suddenly, he had everything he’d ever wanted, and his knees went week. “I have to sit down. You have to sit down. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

  She shoved him into the closest kitchen chair, then climbed right onto his lap, covering his face with kisses. “No, I’m scared spitless and I still think you’re insane for wanting to load yourself down with me, but—” She grinned hugely. “Too late now, sucker.” She threw out her arms, nearly toppling backwards before he caught her. She grabbed on tightly and whooped. “We’re both insane, but guess what, Ajax? We’re getting married and we have a baby and a puppy and a—” She glanced at Michael. “Seriously? We have a horse?”

  “A foal. He was just born tonight.”

  “And why exactly do we have a baby horse?”

  “Ian gave him to me. He wants to be partners in the breeding operation.”

  “For real?” She was smiling.

  “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I can. Ian isn’t stupid. You two will be amazing together. You already are.” She bent to Ajax. “So you’re not our only baby now, and you’ll just have to deal, young man.” Then she rose and turned to Michael. “Let’s go tell Ian thank you and that he’s going to be an uncle and we’re going to—holy crap!”

  Abruptly she was the one who sat down. Then put her head between her knees. “I’m getting married. And having a baby. Michael, what have you done?” she wailed.

  Michael laughed and crouched beside her, rubbing her back. “Just breathe, babe. It’s gonna be fine. Actually, everything’s going to be amazing. Want to get married tomorrow?”

  Laken moaned.

  Michael just kept smiling.

  Chapter Two

  Steph nearly hadn’t come to the Preston Thanksgiving, but she was sick of her own company. She’d gone from a town too interested in her well-being to being surrounded by strangers in Austin. That she felt the slightest bit lonely was unnerving, though. She’d been on her own most of her life.

  She didn’t know much about traditional family Thanksgivings besides what she’d seen on TV, but Ellie’s would be less overwhelming, surely, than being in Sweetgrass Springs.

  So…Thanksgiving for Ellie’s Losers. Ellie spotted her as she parked in a location that would make it easy for her to leave, so she’d have to go inside now. She wouldn’t be rude to one of the sweetest souls she’d ever met.

  She was a lousy cook, so she’d brought wine and chocolates.

  “Hi, Steph!” Ellie’s second son, Joseph, fumbled the screen door as he let her in, blushing furiously.

  “Hey, Joseph. How did your basketball game go?”

  His face fell. “We lost.”

  “Did you learn anything about what to do better?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Then you won, in the long run. I’ve learned more from my failures than my successes.”

  Joseph looked skeptical. “Seriously?”

  She chuckled. “I know. Sounds like BS, right?”

  “Kinda.”

  She bent and kissed his cheek. He turned bright pink. “You’ll do better next time. I believe in you.”

  Too-earnest eyes stared into hers, and she flinched from the faith she saw there. What did she know about normal kids? She’d spent years trying to keep her mother from killing herself, only to fail in the worst way possible when she wasn’t much older than Joseph.

  Learn from your failures, indeed.

  “Hi, Steph!” Ellie’s eldest, Christy, approached and held out a hand. “You’re supposed to take things from the guests, goofball,” she said to her brother.

  Joseph looked stricken. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be. We were having an important discussion, right?”

  He had the sweetest smile. Some girl was going to be very lucky one day. “Right.” He took the wine from her hands.

  “Dad was asking for you,” Christy told her brother.

  “Okay.” He started to turn, then looked back. “You’re sitting by me at dinner, Steph.”

  “Fabulous. Nothing I love better than dining with a handsome man.” She winked at him.

  He blushed and stumbled over his feet as he turned, then hastened away.

  “He has a crush on you. So does Davey.”

  “They have good taste.”

  Christy grinned.

  “And who do you have a crush on, missy?”

  Christy glanced away. “No one.”


  Huh. Was there a story here? “You okay?”

  Her nod was too hasty. “I’m fine.” She took the chocolates and moved away.

  Steph wondered if she should delve further, but what did she know about parenting? Good parenting, that was. She knew far too much about the ways it could be done wrong.

  Meanwhile, Ellie’s daughter clearly welcomed a change of topic, so Steph obliged. “So where’s the paragon?”

  “Who?”

  “The carpenter with a heart of gold. Mr. Perfect.”

  “Gavin.” Christy giggled. “Back here.” She drew Steph into the kitchen and toward a window overlooking the back porch.

  “Glad you made it, Steph,” Ellie said, smiling wide as she entered the room filled with amazing scents.

  “Thank you for inviting me. What can I do to help?”

  “We’re fine here,” Ellie said. “Gavin’s outside.”

  Steph rolled her eyes.

  Ellie’s smile only became more beatific. Just then gorgeous music wafted through the open window, and her gaze was drawn toward it.

  A man sat there, playing guitar and singing.

  So. Gavin O’Neill.

  She had to admit that the man had a beautiful baritone voice.

  He wasn’t half-bad looking, either, at least from his strong profile. Though seated, he was clearly an imposing man, built like a lumberjack. Steph leaned against the sill and watched his big hands finger the strings with surprising agility, notes of astonishing richness and depth emerging from the guitar, intertwining with his voice and the second Preston daughter Sarah’s in a melody so haunting that all activity around the house had stopped.

  Steph listened, soon caught up in the spell, and was astounded to feel her eyes fill. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, but not to respond to the pain and longing in this music would require a heart made of stone.

  He looked up suddenly and caught her gaze.

  She quickly looked away.

  When the last notes died off, there was a long hush of respect for something extraordinary. Then from all quarters burst enthusiastic applause.

  Gavin nodded and smiled, then his gaze returned to the window.

  Steph retreated from view.

  At that moment Ellie’s youngest, Sam, skidded out on the porch. “Wow! Can you teach me to do that? Only not something so girly?”

  Everyone broke up with laughter, including Gavin.

  “Like this, you mean?” Gavin launched into a rousing tune filled with war and bloodshed and enough battles to thrill a little boy’s urge for mayhem and set toes tapping.

  Steph smiled as she moved to join Ellie.

  “I told you he was amazing,” her friend said. “He’s restoring an old house, builds furniture like an artisan, gardens, cooks—”

  “So not my type.”

  “Maybe your type needs changing.”

  “How about we talk about Laken’s wedding instead?” Steph retorted.

  “Coward. But okay.” Ellie grinned. “Michael is chomping at the bit to tie her down before she finds a way to wiggle out of it.”

  “Will she?” Steph personally thought the verdict could go either way. Laken had seemed to concede, then gotten squirrelly again. Living with her must be exhausting.

  “Not if she has a brain in her head. Michael is the best of men.”

  “And too good to be true,” Steph said.

  Ellie frowned. “No, he’s just good. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? I hope you won’t be saying that to Laken,” she chided.

  Awkward silence fell. Steph looked away, reminded of how much she didn’t belong here. Only problem was, she didn’t know where she did belong. If such a place existed.

  “Steph, I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. I can’t tell you how to conduct your friendship.” Ellie looked stricken.

  “Surely there’s something I can do to help.” Steph wanted off that topic.

  “One of the kids can get it.”

  “Ellie, please. Let me do something.” Or let me go. Away from all this smothering saccharine togetherness I thought I was escaping.

  “All right. Would you get me some ice from the utility porch?”

  “On it.” She quickly complied, glad to escape. Holidays gave her the willies at the best of times. Outside, she yanked on the stubborn latch of the ice chest and broke a nail down to the quick. She swore darkly and sucked on her finger.

  “Is that any way for a lady to talk?”

  Steph whirled around to see the paragon himself approaching. “I’m no lady. Anyway, you shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. Want some help?”

  Of course his speaking voice would be as gorgeous as his singing one, the drawl slow and dark as molasses. “I’m doing fine, thank you.” She dropped her injured finger to her side.

  “No, you’re not. Let me take a look at your hand.” He stepped forward. “I’m Gavin O’Neill.”

  She stuck her hand behind her back. “I know who you are. Ellie’s playing matchmaker, you do realize.”

  “Me? With you?” His eyes rounded.

  “You don’t have to sound so insulted. You’re not my type, either, just so you know.”

  “Sure of that already?”

  “You’re not?”

  “You’re one to make snap judgments, are you?”

  She shrugged. “Saves time.”

  He flashed a bright smile. “And clearly you’d like me to go away. Are you always so prickly or is it Ellie’s intentions that have put the burr up your lovely behind?”

  “It’s my behind, and I’ll thank you not to be watching it.”

  A lovely low rumble shook him. “I’m pretty sure any man with eyes couldn’t possibly accommodate that demand. It’s a very fine derrière, and I suspect you know that.”

  His blue eyes twinkled with amusement that only irritated her more. “Well then, why don’t you lift this big ole ice chest for li’l ole me?” She batted her lashes. “Ellie needs more inside.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with his rumbling laughter, his cheeks denting with dimples. He leaned past her and picked up the chest as though it weighed nothing. “Why, of course, sugarplum,” he answered in an exaggerated drawl. “Just tell this poor dumb redneck where you want it.” The gleam in his eyes said he knew her game but he was too good-natured to mind.

  He was definitely too nice for her. Not one iota her type. She liked edgy, dangerous men.

  Though one of those had framed her and nearly killed her, not that long ago, she reminded herself.

  She really needed out of here. She’d make it through the meal, then she was history.

  But she had to sigh a little as her gaze roamed over the flexing of his muscular back and arms. Too bad she didn’t dare take that very fine physique for a test drive.

  Gavin surveyed the group numbering nearly thirty scattered over the huge dining table and assorted card tables strung into one long banquet. He rose from his seat, wine glass in hand. “To Ellie, who brings new meaning to the words domestic goddess.”

  “Hear, hear,” replied Wyatt. “Best of all, my domestic goddess.” He bent to his wife and gave her a lingering kiss. Ellie blushed, a secret smile on her lips.

  “Get a room, you two. There are innocent children present,” Steph teased from her place beside him.

  The eldest Preston boy, fifteen-year-old Davy, stared at Steph adoringly. He and twelve-year-old Joseph seemed to think the woman was hot. Gavin couldn’t disagree—if, that is, one had a self-destructive bent. She was a tall, curvy, bad-tempered siren, and if for a moment as she’d watched him sing, he’d seen a sadness in her eyes that had touched him, well—

  He had more regard for himself, that fine derrière notwithstanding.

  “They do that stuff all the time, Steph,” Sam piped up. “We just ignore them.”

  The assembled group rang with laughter.

  “What does your family do for Thanksgiving
, Gavin?” asked Sarah.

  “Pretty much what you do here: cook mountains of food and eat far too much of it.” He leaned across the table, pitching his voice lower. “And don’t you tell my mama because she’s a great cook, but I’ve never had these foods prepared more deliciously than today.”

  Steph stirred. “I agree, but I have no idea why you put yourself through this, Ellie. You cook for three days, and in minutes, it’s demolished. What’s the point?”

  “A woman’s lot in life.” Ellie shrugged. “I enjoy feeding people.”

  “Not this woman,” Steph muttered.

  Gavin glanced to see if Ellie had heard. “Must you?” he asked Steph, keeping his voice low.

  “What?”

  “Your cynicism is misplaced here.”

  “Who appointed you the etiquette police?” she whispered furiously.

  They were beginning to draw attention. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “We won’t speak at all, if I have any say.” Steph turned to Joseph on her other side. The boy was clearly smitten with her.

  The conversation and laughter continued unabated around them, but she said not one more word to Gavin as the meal wound down. He was inclined to be grateful. Her tone was as sharp as her attitude, and she was rude to boot.

  She was surely wrong about Ellie’s intent to match them up. Ellie wouldn’t do such a thing to him. No one could be further from the woman of his dreams.

  A few hours later, however, the woman was still on his mind as he returned home after a long day. He had risen early to work at the job he was close to finishing before going to the Preston home. There was trim to run, and he’d wanted the space and quiet to do it properly. There was a peace to be found in measuring and cutting, fitting pieces together in a joint so smooth and sweet that no one would be able to spot it easily.

  He should be tired and ready for bed, but he wasn’t. His thoughts kept returning to his prickly dinner companion, who hadn’t hung around long after the meal. He didn’t know why he should be sparing her one second’s consideration.

  Except that he couldn’t seem to stop remembering his first sight of her as she watched him sing.

  When she thought no one was watching, she’d had her heart in her eyes, a heart that had known pain, had suffered greatly. He’d almost have said the woman was lonely.