I hopped in my SUV, veered back on the highway, rerouted, and found myself another exit. This one would take me to Sugar Creek.
Quiet the noise? Check.
Now I just had to face the fears.
And, of course, buy Ernie a giant bag of candy bars.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Miller’s in San Francisco.”
That was the first thing Ernie said to me when I got out of my vehicle at Hope Farms. I’d already checked Miller’s house, texted him a dozen times, and rang his doorbell again in case he hadn’t gotten the message I needed to talk.
It was nearly eight o’clock, and I’d found Ernie cleaning a barn stall in the dimming light. If I wasn’t so panicked, I would’ve been touched that Ernie, who always went home promptly at five o’clock, had clearly been waiting for me.
“What do you mean he went to San Francisco?” My mind was a satellite out of orbit, pointing back to Oklahoma, then back to Sugar Creek. I thought of Buck, I thought of Miller. I thought of Buck, I thought of Miller.
I needed to get it together, to focus. But I was high on my achievement of breaking ties and telling Buck how I really felt.
“Miller’s not here?” I asked, finally processing Ernie’s statement.
“Yeah. Took a flight to California about an hour ago.”
“How’d you know I wanted to see him?”
“It’s all over your face.” Ernie held up his gloved hands. “I do not want to hear about it.”
“I think I’m in love with Miller.”
“I’m in love with the prime rib at the Sugar Creek Inn, but do you see me wasting someone’s time with my heartfelt proclamations?”
My feelings for Miller didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but they still made me feel a bit faint. “I need to talk to him.”
“Maybe you should call him.”
“This isn’t a phone call type of conversation.”
“Text him some heart emojis.”
I grinned at dear, sweet expressionless Ernie. “I love you.”
“Do not start in on that crap again. I don’t have enough Rolaids in my pocket to deal with any more of your gushy sentiments.”
“Fine.” I breathed deep, trying to get centered, to find my calm. Surely, I’d track Miller down tonight. Find a flight out if I had to. “One final thing, Ernie.”
“Super.”
“I have some bad news.” My face was solemn as a funeral. “I’m sorry to tell you that…I’m not taking the government job.”
Ernie’s ever-present scowl didn’t diminish, but I did think his clenched jaw relaxed a millimeter or two. “You’re staying here?”
“Yes.”
“Working with me?”
“That’s the plan.”
His dark brown gaze met mine, and then he did smile. Oh, sure, to the untrained eye it was barely a lifting of the lips, but to my dying day I would swear Ernie’s mouth curved in an upwardly fashion. “I guess we’ll throw away all those applications we got.”
