“I’m sorry.” I’d texted him at five a.m. to cancel our Sunday breakfast date after an unexpected call. “Buck got kicked out of his cabin last night, and I told him I’d find him another place to stay.” So that meant no waffles with Miller, no holding hands with him in church, and no helping Olivia with any last-minute details for Ava’s party.
His eyes did that thing where they looked right inside me and saw it all. “Or you could let Buck handle it himself.”
“I could.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“He’s having difficulty with a credit card.”
“Sure he is.” Miller handed me the coffee, then gave me a kiss that could revive a coma patient. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you need to stay here for Ava. I’ll be back in plenty of time for the birthday party.”
“The girls spent the night with your grandma. She’s taking them both to the salon for hair, nails, and probably some CIA brainwashing.”
“Standard fare for Sylvie.”
“They won’t be back for hours.” Miller jangled his truck keys. “How about I drive?”
I wasn’t too keen on sharing my family dysfunction, but when Miller looked at me like that, I was helpless to say no. Plus, I hadn’t seen him in exactly six hours, so we’d practically been apart for forever.
Lord, I had it bad.
The trip to Oklahoma gave us time to talk. It also gave us time to make out at every halting traffic signal. I’d never valued red lights more.
Miller appreciated my love for road trip snacks, and I loved the way his hand held mine. If he wanted to thumb his nose at hands on a steering wheel at two and ten, who was I to argue?
We arrived at Osage Mountain Bull-riding Camp an hour and a half later. I’d been there before in the dark of night after bringing Buck home from the emergency room, but I’d yet to see it in the light of day. It was a beautiful property, with acres of lush green fields. Twelve wooden cabins held down the south end, providing living quarters for weary coaches and dreamy-eyed students.
I knocked on the door of cabin number seven. Out came Buck, reeking of hard liquor and sporting a new black eye. “About time you got here,” he said. “Stupid owner’s ready to toss me into the street.”
“You remember Miller,” I said as Buck made no effort to invite us in, and an awkward silence fell.
“Not really.” Buck scrubbed a hand over his faint beard. “Is this your feller?”
I didn’t respond quickly enough, so Miller answered for me. “Yes. I am.” He shook Buck’s hand. “Miller James. Your son is a good friend of mine. I’ve known Hattie and the family since I was a kid.”
“Hattie’s a good one. Kindhearted like her mother.”
“Yes.” Miller’s fingers massaged my shoulder. “She’s a keeper all right.”
“I’ve found a bed-and-breakfast in Siloam Springs that has an opening for a week,” I told Buck.
“I’m going to need it for longer than that.” He disappeared behind the door and came back out with two suitcases. “I need some time to make a new game plan.”
“The coaching gig didn’t work out?” I asked as we moved toward Miller’s truck.
“Owner had crazy expectations,” Buck said. “Wanted me to work too much with not enough pay. I thought he knew who he was dealing with, but apparently not. I’m a Sunset Boy and a world-class talent manager. That should count for something.”
“Do you mean you don’t have a job?” I asked, noticing that Buck was placing his suitcases in Miller’s backseat and not his own truck.
“I have plenty of options,” he said. “Just need to settle on the right one.”
“And your truck?” Miller asked, shooting me a look.
“Engine’s dead.” Buck laughed as he buckled himself in the Ford. “Last night I got in a fistfight and my truck gave out. There’s a country song in there somewhere.”
Yeah, a really bad one.
