He pulled out another stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “I’d like to file a formal complaint.”
“I’ll add it to your others.” Miller grabbed my hand and hauled me to him, dropping a kiss to my cheek. “Ernie, you should know something. Hattie’s crazy about me, and we’re dating.”
Ernie’s gray eyebrows pulled low. “I don’t care.”
“She won’t admit it, but we’re serious.”
“So is my gout, but I don’t force you to hear about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ernie?” I could switch into mother-hen mode faster than Ernie could unwrap a stick of Wrigley’s. “I can keep some pain reliever in my candy drawer.”
Ernie sniffed and looked toward the pasture. “I suppose you’ll be wanting me to hang around for another four years now.”
“That would be great,” I said, distracted by Miller’s hand at my hip. “I guess I should mention the grant is dependent on the state budget passing tomorrow night.” I filled the men in on the rest of the details.
“I want to remind you I agreed to come out of retirement for six months,” Ernie added gruffly.
“I know it would be an enormous sacrifice to extend that.” I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “You simply can’t stop being a hero, can you, Ernie?”
My partner exhaled with all the drama of a teenage girl. “I guess I could be persuaded.” He jabbed a finger in our direction. “But you two keep your personal details to yourselves. This is a working farm—notReal Housewives of Sugar Creek.”
“Anything you want,” Miller said. “This program can’t run without you.”
“Darn right, it can’t.” Ernie ripped off his hat, swabbed his head with a hanky, then stomped toward his truck. “And I want a raise.”
“You got it,” Miller called.
“And my own candy drawer!” He glared back over his shoulder. “With Hershey’s and Milk Duds. I’m gluten-free!”
And with that, he was gone. Leaving me laughing against Miller’s chest and feeling happier than I had in years. Everything just seemed so…right.
Which almost felt wrong. Was this how a relationship was supposed to feel? Easy and natural? Where was that worn-out sensation of constantly rowing against the current? Miller had yet to give me the impression I wasn’t doing enough. Not once had he implied I needed to pull out my metaphorical toolbox and make all the wrong places right.
I turned in Miller’s arms and kissed his stubbled cheek. “You just told Ernie we’re dating.”
“I did indeed.”
“Shouldn’t we have talked about that?”
“Probably. But then you jumped into my arms and one thing led to another. At least I kept my hands above the belt loops.” His eyes did a quick survey of my face. “You’re worried.”
“This is all very new.” Miller as a boyfriend, a relationship that thrilled like no other, the speed at which my feelings had rocketed—all of it new.
Lines fanned near his eyes as he smiled. “I get it. You’re using me. I’m a fling, your rebound guy.” His mouth pressed against my temple. “I can live with that.”
“I’m glad you understand your place.”
Miller tightened his hug and just held me against his sun-warmed shirt. “As long as it’s with you, Hattie Sutton, I’ll take what I can get.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The thing about love is that it doesn’t care about your rules or boundaries. It looks at your walls and timelines and shoves its way right on through. It’s a dictator, a tyrant. Sometimes it doesn’t show up with fireworks, marching to you on a red carpet. Sometimes it tiptoes in, quiet as you please, whispering its arrival and letting you know it’s come to stay.
Early the next morning as I watched Miller park his truck in my driveway, with the fog hovering over the wet grass and the sun peeking sleepily over the distant hills, I didn’t think I was in love again.
But I was dangerously close. I was heavily infatuated. So romantically intoxicated I probably couldn’t walk a straight line.
“Standing me up already?” Miller met me at my Toyota, cup of coffee in hand.
