There, behind a mahogany desk, sat my older brother Colin’s best friend. A person who had grown up with our family. I’d known him when he was a braces-wearing middle schooler playing kickball in our neighborhood. I recalled him as a sweaty teenager tossing a frisbee with Colin. Sure, I’d seen a few photos of Miller over the last decade, but those had been few and far between. We’d lost touch, orbited out of each other’s galaxies.
Nothing could have prepared me for the visual shock of all that was now Miller James. Photos on the internet had not done him justice.
Dark hair rebelliously longer on top, as if that big brain needed the extra insulation, a face that achieved its five-o’clock shadow before noon, a chin so perfectly sculpted there could be entire art galleries in its honor. Maturity gathered in the fine lines that tugged at his blue eyes, and a smile lifted those full lips. The last time I’d seen Miller he’d been a college boy.
But the boy had sure grown up.
My mouth parted on a small gasp as he rose to his imposing six-foot-something height.
Mamie chuckled and gave me a friendly pat on the back. “He has that effect on everyone.”
Chapter Five
“Hello, Hattie.” Miller’s voice was romance-hero deep, and his time in California hadn’t dulled the sharper edges of his Southern twang.
“Miller.” I accepted his hug, my senses jolting at the scent that was all man. Gone was the wiry boy I’d grown up with, the one who’d always been at our house, tugging on my ponytail.
His hug was one of old friends, with lingering contact and a savoring sigh. “You look well.”
I watched his grinning housekeeper depart as I reluctantly pulled away. This was Miller. Why was I getting all hot and flustered? Chalk it up to months of missing Ned and hugging nothing besides rejection. “I look like a woman who’s been crying for months, but I’ll take that fake compliment.”
He gestured to an empty seat in front of a desk that probably cost more than my car. “I’m sorry about…your engagement.”
I still didn’t know how to respond when someone offered me their condolences. The wordsthank youseemed odd—both too much and not enough. Oftentimes the declaration of pity was followed by a generous pause, the kind of space I was silently encouraged to fill with any further juicy details. But I never did. The gossips could fill in the blanks themselves.
Miller returned to his side of the desk, but his cologne lingered behind. If I dipped my nose, I would bet money I could smell it on my blouse.
Not that I would do that.
“Your brother was pretty fired up,” Miller said. “He called me to see if I’d ride shotgun to visit Ned and provide backup.”
“Yes, I had to remind Colin it isn’t 1850, and pistols at dawn are no longer the required response from the family.”
“Colin was greatly disappointed.”
“It’s over. It’s done. I’ve moved on, and I’m fine.”
Miller smiled, and I wondered how many hearts he’d broken with that mischievous grin. “You always did possess an infinite amount of tolerance for those who’d wronged you.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t pray for a rash equal parts oozing and humiliating for Ned.”
“He deserves a pox.”
“Indeed. Okay, enough of me and my relationship disasters. How are you?”
“Things are good. But busy. Running a farm is definitely an adjustment from the corporate world.”
“Being a boss has always suited you. Remember that time you initiated a neighborhood snowball fight?”
“I do.” Miller ran his hand over a broad smile. “Colin was mad I’d picked you for our team. You immediately asked us not to call ourselves the Killers.”
“It was a little aggressive.”
“I also recall you stopped early to tend to the wounded and dole out snacks.”
I laughed at the memory. “Nothing wrong with hospitality.”
“Our team was winning.”
