Tempt (Cloverleigh Farms Next Generation Book 4)

I woke up with his arm around me, my body tucked inside the curve of his chest and hips and legs.

For five full minutes, I didn’t move—I didn’t shift, I didn’t stretch, I didn’t blink. I barely allowed myself to breathe, afraid of breaking the spell.

But I did smile. I couldn’t help it.

Last night had been incredible. I’d never had so much fun with anyone. I’d never trusted anyone so deeply. I’d never been with anyone as generous as he was demanding, as tender as he was strong, as playful as he was aggressive. I’d never let anyone do the things to me Zach did, and I’d never wanted to please someone the way I wanted to please him. From the blowjob at the front door to the vibrator game to sitting on his face—all of it was brand new. With anyone else, I’d have been scared and self-conscious. But Zach had a way of putting me at ease, making me feel confident and sexy, even when he made it seem like I had no choice but to do what he said.

Was it his tone of voice? His maturity? His age? I’d grown up the oldest sister, so setting the tone and being in charge came easily to me. It was a role I was used to playing in relationships too, and because I tended to date guys my sisters called “lost puppies,” the dynamic never varied. I’d grown comfortable with it. I felt safe with it. Having the upper hand—physically and emotionally—meant I was rarely insecure or worried about being abandoned.

When someone needed you more than you needed them, it gave you power.

With Zach, I didn’t feel that sense of power, but I also didn’t feel like I needed it. This wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be.

It was a fling.

Secret. Forbidden. A little dangerous. So unlike me.

Maybe that was the key—I was finally off the hamster wheel, like Winnie said. Granted, jumping off blind the way that I did came with an unexpected hitch (I’d jumped right into the arms of my ex’s dad), but not on purpose. And was it so wrong to let myself have this one thing for fun? As long as no one got hurt?

Zach stirred behind me, his breathing becoming louder and more irregular. Light was filtering through my bedroom blinds, hazy and soft.

“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.

“I’m not sure, but I think you missed your flight.”

His arm tightened around me. “Oops.”

I laughed and snuggled back against him. “What will you do?”

“Guess I’ll have to rebook.”

“Will you still leave today?”

He exhaled. “I don’t know. Originally, I told Mason I was available for some kind of wedding brunch. What about you? Are you working?”

“Nope. I have today off. What time is the brunch?”

“Eleven, I think. What time is it now?”

I reached for my phone and checked the time. “It’s just before eight.” Then I saw Mason’s name pop up on the screen. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

I looked back at him over my shoulder. “I just got a text from Mason. I’m scared to read it.”

Zach fell onto his back and closed his eyes.

“Maybe it’s nothing.” I opened it up and read it out loud. “Hey Millie, just wanted to thank you again for last night. Everything was perfect. Lori and I also wanted to invite you to brunch this morning if you’re not busy. It’s at eleven at Marmalade, just immediate family and a few close friends. We’d really like to treat you for going above and beyond for us—plus we have a special announcement. Hope you can make it.” I looked at Zach, but his eyes were still closed. “I’ll tell him I can’t come.”

He exhaled and brought his hands behind his head. “You can go if you want.”

“No, I don’t belong there.” I quickly replied to Mason, thanking him for the invitation but saying I was meeting my sisters for breakfast at our mom’s bakery. “Done.” I set my phone back on the charger and snuggled close to Zach again. “That’s just awkwardness we don’t need.”

“No.” He put an arm around me.

“I wonder what their special announcement is.”

Zach exhaled heavily. “I think I know.”

“You do? Can you say? Or is it a secret?”

He didn’t say anything right away. And then, “Lori is pregnant.”

“Oh! Well, that’s nice. Mason has always wanted a family.”

“Yeah.”

Then it hit me. I gasped and sat up, looking down at him. “Holy shit. You’ll be a—”

“Don’t say it.” He clapped a hand over my mouth and shook his head. “Just don’t say it.”

I pushed his hand down and tried to suppress a grin. “When did you find out?”

“Last night at the reception. Right before I found you in the office.”

“Oh.” I recalled his addled mental state when he’d wandered in, whiskey in his hand. “Guess that explains why you seemed so distraught. I thought it was just the photos.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. Mason had just told me, and I was still processing it. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I was just . . . shocked. And embarrassed, I guess.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to be a—you know. I’m not ready. I wasn’t even ready to hear I had a son, let alone a . . .” His brow furrowed. “I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control, and it just seems like all these unpredictable, uncontrollable things are piling up.”

“I get it. You’ve been hit with a lot all at once.” I tried to find a bright side as I studied him lying there naked in my bed, but I got distracted by his body. The muscles, the ink, the chiseled jaw. He was so damn hot. Suddenly I started to laugh.

He looked over at me, his scowl deepening. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, collapsing into giggles. “But it’s just so ridiculous. You do not look like any grandpa I’ve ever known.”

He rocketed off the mattress and tipped me onto my back, my head at the foot of the bed. “Hey!” he barked. “I told you not to say that word.”

“Uh oh. Are you going to punish me?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “I think you know the answer to that.”

An hour later, we said goodbye at my front door.

He squeezed my hand. “I had a really good time last night. I know it wasn’t right, but I’d do it all over again.”

“Me too.” I hesitated. “I’m trying not to ask if you can come back later tonight.”

“I need to look at flights and see when I can rebook, but I’ll let you know. Don’t worry, I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said.

He smiled. “Enjoy your day off. I’ll talk to you later.” After one more quick kiss, he carefully looked up and down the street before hurrying out to his car.

I watched him drive off and breathed a sigh of relief when he made it out of sight without anyone coming out to grab their Sunday paper or walk their dog. Granted, I was a grown woman who was free to have a man sleep over, and it’s not like my neighbors would know who Zach was, but still . . . the guilt was there.

Shutting the door behind him, I went into the kitchen to make coffee, wincing a little at my sore muscles. As I waited for the cup to fill, I rubbed my butt, which still stung from this morning’s spanking.

Molasses and Muffin sat on the kitchen floor, eyeballing me with their critical-cat faces.

“Don’t judge me,” I told them. “I never misbehave like that, and you know it. Just let me have this.”

Anxious for a distraction, I decided I’d spend my day doing some research about plus-sized bridal boutiques in the Midwest. When the coffee was ready, I looked at my hard wooden kitchen chairs and thought better of it. Instead, I grabbed my shoulder bag, which held my laptop and new file folders, and went into the living room. Gingerly lowering myself onto the plush velvet sofa, I managed to find a comfortable position and settled in.

My third cup of coffee had long grown cold when I realized I’d been working for over three hours. I sat up straighter and stretched before picking up my phone. My mom had texted reminding me about dinner this evening, and I also had a message from Winnie’s boyfriend, Dex.

Hey Millie. Could you call me? I have a question about Winnie. I’m at the station today so anytime works.

I called him back right away.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Millie. How’s it going?”

“Good. Thanks for calling me.”

“Sure. Is this an okay time? I’m not preventing you from fighting a fire, am I?”

He laughed. “No fires yet today. Slow morning.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh, first, can you keep a secret?”

I smiled. “Yes. Your girlfriend is the only MacAllister sister who can’t.”

“Right. She definitely doesn’t know about this. But it involves her.”

My pulse picked up. “Oh?”

“I’m going to ask her to marry me this Christmas.”

“Oh my goodness! Oh Dex, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you!” My throat grew tight, and my eyes blurred with tears.

“Thanks. So listen, I had the girls help me pick out some possible rings, but I could really use a grown-up’s opinion, preferably someone who knows Winnie like you do.”

“I’d be happy to help,” I said, even more excited. “What works best?”

“Would it be possible for you to meet me at the jeweler’s tomorrow? It’s my day off, so any time works.”

“Of course. I’m off on Mondays too, so why don’t we say eleven? Just text me the name of the store and I’ll be there.”

“Great. Thanks, Millie. And if Felicity wants to come too, that’s okay with me. I just didn’t have her number.”

“I’ll let her know, and don’t worry—she can keep a secret too.”

“I appreciate it. It’s hard enough to make sure the girls don’t let it slip.”

I smiled. “They must be so excited.”

“They are. They’ve been begging me to marry Winnie since practically the day we moved in next door to her.”

“That was quite a day,” I teased, recalling the story Winnie had told later that evening—the steam from her shower had set off the smoke detector in her bedroom. She was standing on a suitcase in her birthday suit attempting to disconnect it when Dex burst in, worried that there was an actual emergency, his daughters right behind him. “I’m sure they’ll never forget it.”

“I won’t either.” He laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Dex.” I ended the call and leaned back, the smile still lingering on my lips. Winnie was going to be so happy. I wondered when they’d get married, if Win would choose Cloverleigh Farms where she’d grown up, or Abelard Vineyards where she worked, or somewhere totally different.

I glanced at my laptop on the coffee table, still open to the website of a shop in Maryland that boasted sample sizes up to 32W and gowns to fit almost any budget. Testimonials from happy brides were moving tributes to the owner and staff, who made full-figured women feel welcome and beautiful, women who’d been “laughed at” in other salons when they requested a size 16 dress.

And those stories were not unique—I came across many such personal narratives, reviews and blog posts and quotes full of praise for shops that treated plus-sized brides like queens after they’d been disappointed and stressed out by traditional salons that made them feel unwelcome and unworthy.

There were photos of gorgeous, curvy brides on their wedding days glowing with happiness, stunning in their gowns. Brides of all skin colors and body types. Brides with pink hair, blue hair, rainbow hair. Brides wearing their glasses, showing off their tattoos, lifting their dresses to reveal sneakers or cowboy boots or bare feet on the sand. Brides marrying other brides, also dressed in beautiful gowns—or sometimes dressed in suits. Grooms who gazed at the women they’d just married with looks of pure joy and thrilling disbelief, as if they couldn’t believe their good fortune.

More than once, I’d teared up scanning the pictures and reading about their experiences, which often included details about how far they’d traveled just to have the kind of luxurious, personalized service they’d dreamed of since they were small.

There was only one such shop in Michigan, and it was down near Detroit. I’d left a voicemail message for the owner, Alison, explaining who I was and asking if I might chat with her about her business.

More and more, I was feeling in my gut that a career change was the right thing to do.

Closing my laptop, I went upstairs and took a shower, loath to wash away the night before, but reluctant to show up at my parents’ house for Sunday dinner with the scent of sex on my skin. It was going to be hard enough hiding the truth from my sisters—I didn’t often keep secrets from them.

But this felt like one I might tuck away for myself.

When I arrived at my parents’ house, Winnie, Felicity and Hutton were already there. After offering to help Frannie and Felicity in the kitchen and being shooed away, I poured a glass of wine and went into the family room, where my dad and Hutton sat on the couch discussing the hockey game on TV, the twins were lying on the floor looking at their phones, and Winnie was curled up in an easy chair, glancing at a photo album.

“What’s that?” I asked, taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her.

“Dad and Frannie’s wedding pictures,” she said wistfully, turning another page.

I sipped my wine to hide my smile. “Seems like yesterday.”

“It does.” Then she giggled. “Those stupid shoes hurt so bad, remember?”

“Yes.” I leaned over to peek at the photos and saw Winnie, Felicity and me grinning at the camera in our matching pink dresses and gold sequined shoes. “But we insisted on them.”

“They were fancy!” Winnie laughed and flipped the page. “We wanted to be fancy. Oh, look at them.”

We studied the photo of our dad and Frannie, dressed in their wedding day attire, standing on the edge of the vineyard at Cloverleigh Farms. They were chest to chest, but Frannie was smiling at the camera and our dad was looking down at her, an expression of wonder and love and protectiveness on his face. Gooseflesh blanketed my arms. “That was such a happy day.”

“I hope my wedding is as beautiful as theirs,” said Winnie with a sigh.

“I’m sure it will be.” Hoping I sounded casual, I asked, “Think you’ll get married at Cloverleigh Farms?”

“Honestly, I don’t even care where it takes place. I just want it to be Dex at the end of the aisle.” She actually looked concerned that it might not play out that way.

I took another sip of wine. “Why wouldn’t it be? I thought everything was going well.”

“It is,” she said. “But we used to talk about the future more than we have been lately. It was more of an abstract thing, though . . . maybe the literal thing, the actually getting married, is too scary.”

“I don’t think you need to worry, Win,” I said, being careful not to give anything away. “Everyone can see the way he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?”

“Like that,” I said, pointing to the photo of our dad and Frannie. “Exactly like that.”

Winnie’s face lit up, and I felt the slightest twinge of envy. Would anyone ever look at me that way? I took another swallow of my wine.

“So everything went well last night?” Winnie asked, closing the book and hugging it to her chest.

“Yes,” I said, dropping my eyes into my wine glass.

“Was Zach there?”

“Um, yeah. He was there.” Another hurried sip.

Winnie cocked her head. “And?”

“And what?”

“Did you talk to him?”

I could feel my face heat up. “A little. Not much.”

“Well, was it—” She stopped and gasped. “Oh my God.”

“What?” I looked at her and watched her eyes light up with mischief, her jaw fall open.

“You guys did it again,” she whispered.

My cheeks were on fire. “We did not.”

“You did too!” she practically yelled, causing Audrey to look over at us.

“Come here.” Setting my wine glass aside, I stood up and gestured for her to follow me. Leaving the photo album on the chair, she trailed me up the stairs to the second-floor landing. Peeking around her to make sure we hadn’t been followed, I grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into my old bedroom, which was now the guest room. I shut the door and spun around to face her.

She was grinning ear to ear.

“Shhhhhh!” I admonished, as if she’d spoken.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

“Am I wrong? Did you and Zach not hook up last night?”

I hesitated too long.

“You so did,” she said, clapping her hands with each word. “I can tell just by looking at you. So how was it? As good as the first time?”

My mouth opened to argue with her, but I gave up. “It was even better.”

She squealed, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Be quiet!” I glanced at the closed door. “I don’t want anyone to hear you.”

But just then, the door opened, and Felicity appeared. “What are you guys doing up here? Dinner is ready.”

“Millie slept with her ex’s dad again,” Winnie said breathlessly.

“Winnie!” I glared at her. “This is why I didn’t want anyone to know!”

“What, it’s not like you were going to keep it from us,” she pointed out. “You tell us everything.”

“You can’t tell anyone else,” I told her. “I mean it.”

She zipped her lips.

“So it happened?” Felicity leaned back against the door and blinked at me.

“Yes. Last night.”

“After the wedding?”

“Yes. And . . .” I hesitated to reveal more, but I was dying to confess.

“And what?” Winnie squeaked.

“And during.”

“During!” both my sisters shouted at once.

“I need more.” Winnie made come here motions with both hands. “Give me everything.”

“I was taking a break in my office during the reception, and he wandered in there by mistake—he needed a break too. It was a lot for him, being introduced as the father of the groom all night. He was overwhelmed.”

“Does he know about the baby?” Felicity asked.

Winnie stared at her. “What baby?”

“Lori is pregnant,” Felicity said. “I saw it on social media this afternoon.”

I nodded. “Yes. He knows. And he’s feeling sensitive about it.”

“I don’t blame him.” Winnie started to laugh. “He’s going to be a—”

“Don’t say it,” I warned her, raising one finger.

“But Mills, it’s too good,” she said, the giggle fit overtaking her. “You’re banging a—”

“Don’t say it!” I yelled, putting my hand over her mouth like Zach had done to me this morning.

Swatting my arm away, Winnie flopped back onto the bed and kicked her feet with glee, her eyes watering. “Why? Because you guys never made any jokes about me having a crush on Dad when you found out Dex was a single father who’d been in the military?”

“Okay, listen.” Felicity put her palms in the air. “It doesn’t really make any difference whether he’s a—a—” She glanced at me. “A certain age. It’s more the issue of who he is.”

“I know that. Believe me. We both know it.” I sank down on the bed beside Winnie. “And we feel terrible.”

Winnie, sobering up, put an arm around me. “I’m sorry for laughing. But we don’t get to choose who we fall for, and—”

I jumped off the bed. “I didn’t fall. No one fell. There’s no falling.”

My sisters glanced at each other and then at me. “Okay,” said Felicity, her tone cool and easy. “That’s good.”

“We’re just having fun,” I clarified. “That’s all.”

“So it’s ongoing?” Winnie asked.

I twisted my hands together. “I don’t know. When he left this morning, he—”

“He slept over?” Her voice rose dramatically.

“Well, yes.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “We thought we only had the one night, because he had an early flight back to San Diego, but he missed it. He was going to brunch with Mason and Lori, that’s all I really know. I haven’t heard from him since he left my house around nine.”

“Someone could have seen him,” Winnie said seriously.

“I know.” I looked back and forth between my sisters. “Look, we have to go downstairs to dinner, but first you have to promise me you won’t let anything slip about this—ever.”

“Promise,” said Winnie.

“Promise,” Felicity echoed.

I relaxed slightly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

At dinner, Frannie asked if I’d given any more thought to opening a bridal salon.

“I have, actually,” I said, taking another bite of Felicity’s roasted acorn squash with rosemary and garlic. “In fact, I spent the entire day today doing research.”

“Like a wedding dress shop?” asked Emmeline.

“Yes, one that caters to plus-sized women,” I said. “It can be really difficult and not fun at all to find a dream gown in larger sizes. I hear it from brides all the time.”

“It’s the same with homecoming and prom dresses,” said Audrey. “I can never find anything to fit me on top, and if I do, it’s too big on the bottom. It’s like they don’t make dresses for people with boobs.”

“Audrey.” Frannie gave her a stern look. “We have company.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a good idea,” Audrey pushed back. “I bet it would be a really popular place.”

“What about your job at Cloverleigh Farms?” asked Emmeline. “Would you keep it?”

“No, I wouldn’t be able to do both,” I said. “And that’s one huge reservation I have.”

“Maybe Winnie could take over for you at Cloverleigh,” suggested Frannie.

“I wouldn’t ask her to leave Abelard,” I said quickly.

“Well, hang on.” Winnie picked up her wine glass. “I do love working at Abelard, but I wouldn’t necessarily turn down the opportunity to take over events at Cloverleigh Farms.”

“Would you be able to leave on good terms?” our dad asked. Abelard Vineyards was owned by Winnie’s best friend Ellie’s family. Ellie worked there too, as manager of their tasting room, although she’d just had a baby, so she was taking some time off.

“Definitely,” said Winnie. “With Ellie out, her mom has been working a lot more—she was the original event planner there, remember, and she only left that job because they were going to spend time in France. But they’re back full-time now that the baby is here. I could easily talk to her if you decide to leave, Mills.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” I said. “Right now, I’m really just gathering intel. I think the demand is there, and there’s no other shop like it within four hours in any direction, but it’s not a decision I’d take lightly. I’d have to get a loan, find a space, remodel, contact designers . . . it’s a lot.”

“You know you’d have help,” said my dad. “I know plenty of people at the bank that could help you secure a loan as long as you had a solid business plan.”

“Oh, I would.” I set down my fork, suddenly too excited to eat. “I’m going to work on that.”

“I’d be glad to help you out with a loan, Millie,” said Hutton.

I looked over at my handsome brother-in-law. He was so unassuming and quiet, it was easy to forget he was a billionaire—he’d made a fortune thanks to some sort of mathematical algorithm he’d created for a cryptocurrency exchange. “You would?”

“Sure. I think you’re on to something. A good business idea starts with a solution to a problem—you’ve identified a problem, a solution, and a hole in the geographical market. I could help you with the business plan too.”

I beamed at him. “Thank you, Hutton!”

“I could help you look for a space,” offered Frannie. “And I know a commercial real estate agent I could put you in touch with.”

“That would be awesome,” I said. “I’ve already started a Pinterest board with inspirational photos.”

“And if we can’t do the renovations ourselves, we can find good people to do it.” My dad picked up his beer. “That’s easy.”

I looked around at my family, grateful for the millionth time. “Thanks, everyone. I’ll keep you posted.”

After dinner, Winnie was sitting with the twins and our parents in the family room while Felicity and I finished up the dishes. “Hey, I’m glad it’s just the two of us,” I said quietly, handing her a serving bowl I’d just washed.

“What’s up?”

I glanced into the family room to make sure no one could hear. “Dex is going to propose at Christmas.”

“Shut up!” she stage whispered, her eyes popping. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I talked to him today. He wants my opinion on the ring before he buys it. We’re meeting at the jeweler’s tomorrow at eleven. You’re invited too.”

“Shoot—I can’t tomorrow,” she said. “I’m catering a lunch. But call me afterward and tell me everything!”

“Okay.” I handed her a small platter to dry.

“Did he say where he’s doing it?” she asked. “Maybe he’ll do it at the Cloverleigh Farms Christmas Eve party!”

I frowned. “I don’t think Dex is the public proposal type.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” She sighed. “Win is gonna be so happy.”

“She is,” I agreed, handing her another serving bowl.

Felicity was quiet as she dried it. “It will happen for you too, Mills.”

“I know.”

“Like when you least expect it.”

“That would be nice.”

“I love your new business idea,” she said a minute later. “I think that’s the kind of thing you have to do. Focus your attention on some other part of your life, and then bam! Love will just slam right into you.”

I laughed. “I don’t need anything to slam into me. It would just be nice to meet someone who wants the same things I do. He doesn’t have to be perfect. He just has to, you know, need someone like me in his life.”

Felicity tipped her head onto my shoulder. “Everyone needs someone like you in their life.”

“At least until they meet the one,” I muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“Mason is the third boyfriend of mine in a row to marry the woman he dated right after we broke up.”

“So?”

“So you don’t think it means there’s something wrong with me?”

“Millie, don’t be ridiculous. There is nothing wrong with you because three of your exes went on to meet their wives after dating you.” She turned to face me with a barely suppressed grin. “There’s something wrong with you because you’re fucking one of their dads.”

I gasped. And promptly soaked her with the kitchen faucet sprayer.