Page 13 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Miles

? Do I wanna know? - Arctic Monkeys

L ucy Barlow is a big softie, and she’s always wanted the best for us.

Despite the tragedy of her own marriage, she still wholeheartedly believes in love.

I couldn’t help the pang of guilt that pierced me when I saw the way she looked at us, but if this is what Maggie needs to feel comfortable, I’ll play her little game.

I’ll be the best fake boyfriend she’s ever fucking had.

“Goodnight, Maggie. Miles, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the morning.

” Mom winks and retreats to the kitchen, leaving me and Maggie alone in the quiet of the dim dining room.

If she thinks I'll be spending the night with Maggie, I won’t correct her.

But it sure as shit wouldn’t be a walk of shame situation like she implied.

No, I would walk out of there like a fucking champion.

Winning over Maggie Watson would be the greatest victory of my life.

As it stands, I have a better chance at winning the Kentucky derby.

“S o…” I start, just as Maggie says, “About the boyfriend thing…”

Chuckling, I say, “You go first.”

I watch with rapt attention as she rolls her shoulders and stands a little taller. Atta girl.

Her beautiful light brown eyes bore into me, as though she can see depths to my soul I didn’t know existed.

This connection between us feels like uncharted territory — just call me Marco Polo ‘cause I’m ready to jot down every goddamn detail if she keeps looking at me like that.

I’ll make a map of every single freckle and beauty mark.

From the dip of her waist where my hand rested as she sat on my lap, to the curve of her neck where I’d place my lips as she writhed beneath me.

My hands itch to tug on her braid, or wrap it around my fist. I wonder what sounds she’d make with my head between her thighs.

“Miles?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay with this? With pretending to be my boyfriend for a while. Just until after the Blossom Festival. I know Matty’s your brother, and you have your own history there, but there’s just something about him that makes me feel uneasy.

Maybe it’s the —” Her voice trails off as she runs a hand over the cut on her temple, momentarily lost in thought as she searches for her next words.

The way her fingers linger on the scar pulls at something deep inside me.

She shakes herself back to the present and continues.

“I know we have our own shit, too, but I’d appreciate it.

I’ll be gone soon enough, anyway. Oak Ridge is just a stop along the way. ”

The casual dismissal shouldn’t hurt, but it does. “You’re not staying?”

“Honestly? I never really know what I’m doing.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no real humor behind it. “I just needed to get away.”

A flicker of sadness crosses her face, and I can almost see the walls she’s built around herself, the way they’ve kept her safe but also isolated. It’s in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, like a mask she wears to hide the fear of being vulnerable. I know that feeling all too well.

“I’ll be your fake boyfriend for as long as you need me, Wildcat.

” Need me. Why do I want her to need me?

I’ll be honest — my motivations for this whole agreement go beyond keeping my brother at bay.

Maggie’s been doing this hot-and-cold thing for years, and while I enjoy the rush of riling her up, there’s a deeper part of me that wants something else entirely.

What that is, I can’t be certain. All I know is I want to keep her close to me — make myself essential to her so I can buy some time to earn her forgiveness.

“Ugh, can we maybe not do the nicknames?”

“Rule #1: I always use nicknames. Get used to it, baby.”

She exaggerates a gagging sound, then a smile breaks free, and it damn near brings me to my knees. I have one week to make her smile like that as often as possible. Challenge accepted.

Mags

“So, how do we do this? Should we set some ground rules?” Miles tugs on my hand, pulling me through the front door to the porch swing.

He waits for me to sit, then follows suit, angling his body towards me, his knee gently brushing mine in the middle of the seat.

It sways gently as I nestle into the corner of the weathered wood bench suspended above the porch with sturdy chains.

The plush pillows and handmade quilt are cozy, and I make a mental note to come out here and write tomorrow.

The late spring weather is perfect for tea on the porch.

“What do you have in mind?”

“W ell, obviously, we need to loop everyone else in,” he says.

“There’s no way in hell they’d believe this shit.

” That statement should hurt, but he’s not wrong.

Miles and I are like oil and water. Cats and dogs.

And, well, us. Not in a million years would Paige believe we just suddenly decided to let bygones be bygones.

He pulls out his phone, tapping over to our text message thread. His teeth bite into his bottom lip as he sends off a text to the group chat. It’s plush and soft — I want to sink my teeth into it, too. Where the fuck did that thought come from?

I avert my eyes as he catches me staring. “See something you like?”

“In your dreams, Barlow.”

“Mmmm. Maybe.”

My phone chimes in my pocket as responses start to flood in. He turns his phone so I can read the messages, his face full of what can only be described as pure joy.I stifle a groan. This man and his boundless energy might be the death of me.

Miles: Gonna fake date the hell out of Mags.

Paige: Did you hit your head again?

Cade: Mags? As in our Mags?

Liam: Does she know this? Or is this like a psychotic break?

Cara: Mags? You wanna chime in on these new developments?

I pull out my phone, intending to tap out my own message, when Miles puts his into selfie mode and snaps a photo of us.

Before I can even register what’s happening, his lips meet my cheek.

The photo is almost cute, if you don’t look too closely at my stunned expression.

I shake off the last few seconds and get back to the text messages.

Mags: I plead temporary insanity.

Seconds later, the photo pops up in the thread and the reactions appear in quick succession.

Paige: Aww, he looks so in love.

Cade: Mags looks constipated.

Mags: Rude as fuck, Cowboy.

Dean: Just to clarify… is this an Ivy marries Luca situation?

Mags: No, it’s not that serious. Just temporary until after the festival.

Miles: $100 says I get her to fall in love with me.

I smack him in the ribs and his deep chuckle reverberates through the open air.

Dean: $100 says she murders you before the week is up.

Mags: Always knew I liked you, Dean.

“Ok. Ground rules?” I cast a sidelong look at Miles, only to find him staring at his phone again. With a smirk, he turns it to face me, showing off his new lock screen image. “Oh my god, delete that! It’s a terrible picture. I wasn’t ready.”

His gaze softens with something I can’t quite place. “That’s why I like it so much. It’s a glimpse of the real Maggie. The one you try to hide behind forced smiles and cutting words. It’s you, unfiltered.”

The sudden intensity of his words knock me off my axis.

I’m not ready to unpack the meaning behind them, so I let them hang between us.

I’m acutely aware of the scars I carry, both visible and hidden.

I’ve learned to keep people at arm's length, to shield myself from the weight of my past. But Miles’ unexpected kindness pulls at something inside me, a longing I need to suppress.

“I’ll accept your first rule, but I’d like to add the following: no feelings. Ever. This little act is for the public only.”

“Straight down to business — I respect that. But you should know… I plan to win you over.” His face is plastered with that devastatingly gorgeous smile; the one that shines like daylight, breaking through the clouds that have been looming overhead for the past two weeks.

I want to drown in it. Holding on to the last threads of my sanity, I divert his attention back to the task at hand, lest I break my own damn rules.

“Fat fucking chance,” I scoff. “Rule number three: we avoid any serious conversations about our past.”

“What happens if someone asks us something personal? We need to know the answers.”

“You make a fair point, Muffin.” I cringe at my use of the pastry themed nickname. Not my finest moment.

“M uffin?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I didn’t like that one either. Back to the drawing board.”

I absentmindedly chew on my bottom lip, contemplating ways to bend this rule to work in my favor. I don’t mind Miles knowing things about me. It’s just one very specific event I’m not ready to share, and it has me reconsidering this whole agreement. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Mags,” his voice is soft and steady, almost tender. “I won’t ask. You can tell me if you want to. But I won’t push you. And anything that’s said between us stays between us.”

“Ok.” I hate the hesitancy in my voice. Vulnerability has never been my strong suit.

I love fiercely, but there’s an intentional lack of depth to my relationships.

With the exception of Paige, I don’t think there’s a single person in this world who truly knows me, and even she doesn't know all of my secrets.

Stealing myself, I continue, “Rule #4: When the week is up, we part ways. I’ll go wherever the universe takes me, and you’ll forget this ever happened.

” A sudden twinge of sadness hits me at the thought of leaving Oak Ridge.

Toronto is as close as I ever got to permanence, but when Paige moved out, it no longer felt like the right place for me.

Miles' face turns deadly serious. “Not likely to forget the feel of you in my lap, cupcake.”

Ignoring the sudden desire thrumming through my veins, I soldier on. “Nope. Definitely not that one. I prefer Wildcat if you must use a nickname.”

“Noted.” He mimes making a checkmark on his palm, eliciting an eye roll from me. “Should we plan a date? As painful as you must think it is, if my brother’s gonna buy it, we need to be seen together.”

“That’s fair. What did you have in mind?”

“I work tomorrow, but I could take you to The Ridge for karaoke night on Friday.”

“I sn’t that where you take all the girls?”

“There hasn’t been anyone in a long time, Wildcat.

” His eyes dart away, the smallest hint of vulnerability before he secures his mask back in place.

“Pick you up at eight,” he says, standing from the porch swing before jogging down the steps.

With one last backward glance, Miles is gone and I have a date. Fucking hell. This is a terrible idea.