Page 23 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Mags

? Heaven – Niall Horan

S purred into motion by yet another bout of writer's block, I head out to The Ridge for a change of scenery — and a drink or two can’t hurt.

My footsteps echo on the concrete as I stride into the bar in the heart of Oak Ridge, taking in the familiar sight of the modern, rustic space.

A few patrons are dotted around the floor at high top tables, while the long row of stools stands empty across from the familiar face of my best friend’s husband standing arms crossed behind the counter.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Cade drawls as I slide onto a stool at the far end of the bar. “What can I get ya, Mags?”

“A lobotomy?” I deadpan.

“Fresh out of those, I’m afraid. Anything else?”

“I guess a margarita will do. Double shot, top shelf shit, please. And hey, a little birdie told me you keep a secret stash behind the bar. You wouldn’t happen to have something for your favorite girl’s bestie, would you?”

Cade chuck les, reaching beneath the bar “As a matter of fact…” He pulls out a pack of M&M’s and a bag of gummy bears. “Pick your poison.”

“Oooh. Gummy bears, all day long.” I snatch the bag from his hands and tear into it like I haven’t eaten in weeks, pausing when I realize I must look completely feral. With a mouthful of the sweet treat, I manage a muffled “thanks”.

With a nod and a quick rap of his knuckles on the pristine wood surface, he takes off down the bar, rimming a margarita glass with salt as I dig into my bag of treats.

Out of my periphery, I spot a massive hand reaching into my space, snagging a handful of my gummy bears before I can stop him.

My head snaps up, putting me face to face with Miles as he pops them into his mouth.

I had hoped to avoid a run in with my fake boyfriend tonight, but that’s pretty much impossible in this town.

Between living at his mother’s inn, being best friends with his best friend’s wife, and his favorite lunch spot being the only diner in town, I’m well and truly fucked if I want to stay out of his orbit.

Yesterday’s surprising conversation has been playing on a loop in my mind, mingling with thoughts of a commanding Miles Barlow taking control of my pleasure.

It’s a heady thought, though not an unwelcome one.

Lost in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes and his smile like daylight, only one word formed on my lips.

Daylight.

Despite our initial connection on the app, our digital exploits never went beyond a few sexts here and there.

In hindsight, it always felt a little… one sided.

I shared plenty of intimate photos over our three-month exchange, but they were never reciprocated.

I even made a video once when I was feeling particularly bold.

I’ve never shied away from my sexuality, but Miles always gave me the impression he was holding himself back.

His secretly dominant nature came as a complet e surprise, but it makes sense when I think back on some of our early exchanges.

The prospect is both exhilarating and somewhat intimidating, but I’m looking forward to exploring this side of my sexuality.

“Hands off my treats, Barlow,” I scold half-heartedly as I watch his throat bob on a swallow.

“Why don’t you tell me where you’d like me to put my hands instead, Watson?”

Before I can come up with a sassy retort, the love of my life walks into the bar. “Hey babe,” I pull Paige close, her soft curls brushing my cheek as I hold her a little too long. I didn’t realize just how much I needed the contact until I had her wrapped in my arms.

When I release her from my hold, her features have softened and there’s a glassy sheen to her eyes, some unspoken emotion hidden behind those dark brown eyes. “What was that for?” she asks.

I shrug, securing a mask of indifference. “Just missed my bestie.”

Giggling softly, she says, “Whatever you say, weirdo.” She waves at her husband as he returns with my drink, leaning over the bar to give his wife a very not safe for work kiss.

“Now that’s how you greet your man,” Miles says, puckering his lips suggestively in my direction.

“I think the fuck not.” Bringing the margarita to my lips, I take a prolonged drink, moaning as the delicious combination of flavors hits my tongue, followed by the slight burn of the extra shot of tequila.

I pluck the lime off the rim and bite down, locking eyes with Miles over my glass.

There’s unmasked heat in his gaze as a bead of condensation lands on my exposed cleavage, minimal as it is.

Locked in a staring contest, I nearly miss the assessing stares from my best friend and her husband until Paige clears her thr oat.

“Oooook. So… I’ll have what she’s having. ”

Miles adjusts the visible bulge in his jeans before turning to lean his elbows on the bar. Unprompted, Cade slides him a beer that he downs in one long pull. “Yeah, I’m gonna need something stronger,” he mutters, slamming the empty bottle on the counter.

“I’ve got you, man,” Cade says, pouring two fingers of top shelf bourbon before sliding it across the bar.

Paige snorts as she slides onto the stool beside me, leaving a spot empty for Miles to sandwich me between them. Thanks for nothing, bestie.

Sure enough, Miles seats himself to my left, his delicious scent surrounding me. My body betrays me at his proximity as something like desire pulses through my veins — or maybe that’s the tequila.

I swivel on my stool, facing Paige and giving Miles my back. “Who’s got the little sprout tonight?”

“Luca. He needs the practice. He’s great with Rylin, but a 5-year-old is a far cry from an infant.

Ivy’s under strict orders not to intervene unless it’s a dire situation.

I’m expecting a panicked phone call about a blown out diaper any minute.

That girl is still teething, and it’s not pretty.

” She scrunches her nose in disgust as Cade slides a second margarita across the bar.

Miles palms my shoulders and shifts me to the side so he can join the conversation, and my body heats at the feel of his calloused hands on my skin.

“So you left him with a shitty infant and strict orders for his wife not to help him out? Diabolical, Sunshine.” His deep voice reverberates in my ear sending a shiver down my spine.

“Payback for all the shit he put me through over the years. He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”

Just then, Paige’s phone vibrates on the bar top, Luca’s name lighting up the screen. She reads the message aloud, punctuating the text with unrestrained laughter.

Luca: What the fuck did you feed this kid and why is her shit green?

She taps out a response before placing her phone back down on the bar to pick up her margarita.

She leans back on the stool with a carefree smile on her face, and I can’t help but smile with her, knowing just how far she’s come in the last two years.

My friend is happier than I’ve ever seen her.

I glance up at her husband, and the way he’s looking at her leaves the bitter tang of jealousy on my lips. Nobody has ever looked at me like that.

She slowly licks the salt off the rim of her glass, spurring him into motion.

Cade steps out from behind the bar, swiveling her stool to face him.

She squeaks as he lifts her off her seat and takes off down the hallway with her wrapped around him like a koala, peals of laughter following in their wake.

It’s not until they’re well out of sight that I realize I’ve been abandoned, left with only the tequila buzzing in my veins, and a drop dead gorgeous fake boyfriend at my back. I have a feeling I’m not getting out of this bar unscathed.

Mustering every ounce of confidence I have left, I meet Miles’ stupidly handsome face.

His five o’clock shadow is a little more defined today, highlighting the slight dimple in his chin as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a deep pull in a motion that shouldn't be as hot as it is.

Why do I want to climb onto his lap and devour this man?

His rough palm slides up my leg, fingers trailing beneath the slit in my skirt, teasing the inside of my thigh. Leaning in next to my ear, he says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted to eat me alive, Wildcat. If that’s the case, just say the word.”

In one swift motion, I down the rest of my drink and excuse myself to the restroom, mumbling something unintelligible as I make my hasty retreat.

Once I’m safely behind the door, I lock myself in a stall, take a seat on the toilet, and hang my head between my knees, taking deep, steadying breaths.

I try to remind myself I signed up for this — we agreed to a fake dating with benefits arrangement, so why am I so fucking terrified of the way he’s making me feel?

Before I can devolve further into my shame spiral, the door opens and creaks shut, murmured voices drifting through the enclosed space. “Miles Barlow’s lookin’ fine as hell.”

“Yeah, but did you see the girl he was with?”

“She’s nothing special. He’ll get what he wants and toss her aside like the rest of us. Besides, what does he want with that flat chested polly pocket wannabe when he could have all of this?”

Instantly, my feral side emerges, and I push out of the stall, flinching when the door crashes against the wall from the force of my anger.

I give the bitch a once over while I silently wash my hands, watching as she pastes on another coat of lip gloss and meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Better the flat chested polly pocket wannabe than the desperate pick me cunt.” Her shocked expression follows me as I quickly dry my hands, exiting the bathroom without further incident.