Read Miah (Lane Brothers #2) Online
Authors: Kristina Weaver
Miah (Lane Brothers #2)
MIAH
Lane Brothers, Book 2
KRISTINA WEAVER
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to events, businesses, companies, institutions, and real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Clara
He’s staring at me again and it’s starting to drive me crazy. Not necessarily in a bad way. Miah Lane is hot and so magnetic that I’m surprised I haven’t had to crazy-glue my panties on to stop the things from sliding off and gravitating his way.
There’s something about this man. He just…gets my heart beating fast, and that’s with just a look. I won’t even go into detail about what a tool I made of myself when he shook my hand for the first time and sent me a flirtatious smile.
Of course, that smile was all just a tease, because the moment I smiled back and showed interest, he backed away immediately and started treating me like I had herpes.
That was a year ago. Now I am at a baby shower that’s everything Ellie wanted and a little more, thanks to her mother-in-law’s excitement about the first grandbaby.
After four years of my best friend being MIA, I finally feel as if I’ve found my family again. That’s what Ellie has always been to me. My rock and one of the reasons that after years of being with my ex and finally getting out of that dysfunctional relationship, I’ve uprooted my whole life and moved down here to New Orleans to start over.
It’s not easy being the new teacher in a new place, and even worse is the fact that my only real friend is pregnant and not able to show me around or hang out all that much.
But I’m dealing with the fact that if I want to meet new people and fit in, I have to put myself out there. So maybe hanging out at the same bar and spending half the night talking to Frank, the bartender, isn’t getting out there, but I’m taking a leaf out of Ellie’s book and doing this thing in baby steps.
It’s a waste of time, anyway, and I know it. It won’t matter who I meet or how great the guy may be.
“Hey, Clari? You okay?”
I snap out of it to see that I’m still standing in front of Ellie, her next gift clutched in my hands so hard, I’ve creased the paper and probably squashed the box to hell and back.
“Um, yeah! Here you go. This one’s from…Jude? Seriously, Jude, like how many gifts did you buy the woman?” I grumble playfully, smirking when the old girl turns a glowing shade of red and titters at poor Ellie.
What I wouldn’t give to have this woman be my mom instead of Patty Elms. Jude is sweet, kind, and fiercely protective of everyone she considers hers, and belonging to her would be like walking into a light-filled room instead of the dark cloud that is my own mother.
“Sorry, girls, I just couldn’t help myself when I saw this little thing. Now I know he won’t need it anytime soon, but…”
Everyone gasps when Ellie rips into the wrapping and pulls out a mini little cowboy hat in black suede and a pair of the smallest boots I’ve ever seen.
I actually feel my twenty-five-year-old womb fill with longing at the thought of a cute and cuddly little baby boy, and find myself glancing over at Miah before I can stop myself.
His blue eyes meet mine and I cringe at the hard look on his face before he turns away and stalks out of the room. Can I be more embarrassing and needy?
Jared Lane winces, throws me a look of compassion, and turns to follow his twin brother from the room. The blush I feel frying my cheeks at that look of pure pity has my heart sinking further than it did the time Jude invited me over for dinner.
Miah walked in, took one look at me, and left without a word, the roar of his bike the only indication that he’d left the premises without a backward glance.
If only he knew that running away is a waste, because as attractive and irresistible as I find Miah, chances are I wouldn’t do a thing about it past the flirting stage. I’m not looking for a relationship and commitment right now. In fact, I don’t know if I ever will be after what Nick did to me.
I went to college fresh-faced and convinced that my high-school sweetheart and I would always be together—one of those small-town fairy tales that no one but me believed in.
I was still attached to Nick, my young love, and committed myself so thoroughly that we did stay together all through college…unfortunately. To be fair to Nick, he never once strayed or even considered cheating on me—something I now regret with every fiber of my being, because if he had, I would have been free of him.
Instead, I got stuck with a man who was possessive. Once we graduated and moved in together, I soon learned that Nick was not who I thought he was. He wanted the little woman who stays at home and pops out like a million kids while he brought home the bacon and ruled his roost.
I, on the other hand, was just finding my feet and not at all impressed with his way of thinking, to the extent that I seriously considered ending a five-year relationship just so I could get out of that rut and avoid being moulded by the man.
I learned pretty quickly that Nick does not appreciate being told
no
, something I hadn’t done the whole time we were together since we generally agreed on everything.
Things got worse from there, much worse than just being unhappy in our relationship, and I’m pretty sure that if I’d stayed in Philly and not run like hell, he would have started upping the mental…
brainwashing
. He had a way of making me think that I made my own choices when he really made every one for me. I was heading down a path that he had paved for me.
I have no desire to be in that position again, to have another man rule my life and tell me when and where and how I should live. But I could use a friend, someone to break up the monotony of the life I now lead—the opposite of what I wanted when I escaped the trailer park and started living my life at eighteen. I had dreamed of a life with Nick, if only so everyone who saw me would see that I was not a white-trash princess who had loose morals and even looser legs.
I think of my mom and the legion of men who walked in and out of her bedroom on a nightly basis. While being that woman has never appealed to me, I just want…happiness and the freedom to do the things I’ve denied myself for so long.
After handing out all of the gifts and participating in another round of guess-the-flavor, it’s almost the end of the shower. I have to admit that, for once, I’m looking forward to getting the heck out of here and going home to my empty little cottage.
“Clari? Are you staying the night?” Ellie asks when the last woman leaves and I’m flitting around, collecting the last scraps of shredded wrapping.
“Don’t be foolish, Ellie dear, of course Clara is staying over. Why, it’s only two hours to an early dinner, and by then it will be too late for her to drive home safely.”
“Erm, uh, no that’s fine, really…I have a few papers that I still have to grade—”
“Oh pooh! What nonsense. Tomorrow is Sunday, Clari dear, you’ll have the whole day to work after I feed you a good breakfast and we get in a good round of shopping.”
Jude just throws that out with a wave of her hand as she’s leaving the room, and I’m left dumbstruck and uncomfortably aware of the fact that I can’t be rude and just leave now, but I’m also not excited about facing another dinner disaster.
“Ellie, I really don’t think—”
“Well good, then it should be easy for me to think for you, and I think you should stay over so we can eat cookies and talk about boys,” she interrupts, giving me that look I recognize from college.
It’s a look that makes me cringe, because it was the very same one she gave me the first time she told me to reevaluate my relationship with Nick. Not that Ellie disliked my ex, she just wasn’t into watching me run around after a man she didn’t think was the right match for me.
“El…”
“Look, Clari,” she says, hoisting herself to her feet with a groan. “We both know why you don’t want to stay, and while I’m not trying to pimp you to Miah, because, let’s face it, the man is not…your type, I will tell you that letting his behavior dictate your actions won’t fly with me.”
“But, Ellie, the man obviously doesn’t want me around, and it’s getting to the point of embarrassment for me. This is his home and I shouldn’t—”
She is across the room so fast that I actually check to make sure there’s a baby under her blouse and not a stuffed pillow.
“He’s attracted to you—”
I snort and earn myself a hard glare before she hooks her arm through mine and starts dragging me towards the door.
“Cut that out, Elms. He is attracted to you. Anyone with eyeballs can see it, and that’s his freaking problem to deal with. You’re staying if only to show him you don’t care,” she insists.
“But I do.”
And I can’t just change my whole personality and thumb my nose at people. I never stay where I’m not wanted. More than that, I do not make life unpleasant for others.
Go home and eat a salad, Clara. Do what you always do and blend, even if it means crawling into the woodwork of your lonely home.
“Clari.”
Taking a deep breath, I extricate myself from Ellie’s arms and step into the hall, turning only when I reach the front door.
“I spent eighteen years of my life being unwanted, and then six being so wanted that I had to move halfway across the country to escape. I just want to be me and not have to think about why someone likes me or not. Okay?”
“Fine. But you’re calling me tomorrow morning and telling me about that ass Nick and whatever it is he had planned for you. I swear, Clari, how you stayed with a guy who didn’t give you one orgasm and asked you to go on a diet is so…you’re spilling the beans tomorrow,” she warns, resting her hands on her back in that way that pregnant women have.
“Fine,” I grump, blowing an air kiss and pulling the door open. “But you’re calling me if we’re having that conversation, or I might be paying a phone bill with one of my organs. No orgasms for six years is at least a six-hour gripe session.”
“None!”
“Nope, but I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad about that and just thank the Lord I got the heck out of there before he went serial killer on me.”
The comment is meant to be a joke, but it turns out to be one of those moments I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut when the three Lane brothers come walking out of the study and stop dead in their tracks.
My blush reappears in a nanosecond and I just wish the ground would open up right under my feet when Miah scowls and stops dead, Jared’s lips twist, and Wyatt gives me one of those commiserating looks I’ve come to despise.
“Huh, um, ladies, is it safe to come out of hiding now?”
Good save, Wyatt.
“Uh, I think I’ll just… Bye.”
I don’t stop blushing all the way to my car and almost scream my fool head off when a hand lands on my shoulder and spins me around.
“What the hell was that?”
My tongue won’t work, or is that my brain? I look up and stare into two burning blue eyes that seem more angry than annoyed with me.
“Clara,” Miah growls, his deep voice and proximity giving me the good shakes, especially when that hand starts kneading at my flesh in an unconsciously sensual way.
“Hmmm?”
That’s it, slide that hand down a little more, Miah.
“What was that? Did someone hurt you?”
“What? Oh no! No, he really didn’t,” I lie, crossing my fingers behind my back.
I’m not lying as much as I’m reforming a few facts. For instance, he hurt my feelings, a lot, and that last time he caught me trying to pack a bag he came really close to getting physical. Turns out that Nick was really good at inferring things, and I’m relatively sure that what he was saying was that if I tried again, I’d end up in a ditch somewhere.
No one needs to know that, though. As if I want anyone to know that I spent six years of my life with a man who didn’t love me so much as I fit his checklist of wifely criteria.
“You aren’t staying for dinner?”
Who is this guy and what did he do with the real Jeremiah Lane? I’m doing my best not to focus on the fact that his hand is now running up and down my arm in what I can only call a caress.
“No, er, I have some work to do.”
Not a lie. I do have a few things to keep me busy, but he doesn’t have to know that it’s only a handful of papers that I’ll have done in under an hour.
“I have to go.”
Take the hint and leave. Now. Before I do something monumentally stupid like lean into your touch and start puckering my lips for a kiss I shouldn’t want and won’t get in this lifetime.
He snaps out of his trance and drops his hand, stepping back as if burned, and we’re back to the cold eyes and his even frostier attitude.
“Drive safely and call Ma when you get home or she’ll just worry incessantly,” he growls before turning sharply and stalking away.
I have whiplash as I slink into my beat-up old Honda and make my way down the long drive.
Wanting Miah Lane is not a good idea, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking of him all night before finally drifting off to sleep.
