I held out my hand and pulled him on, laughing at his uncertainty. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Miller’s broad shoulder bumped into mine as he landed, and I noticed he didn’t make any effort to scoot away. But he did lean back and let his head rest on the dark oak, seeming to take a big interest in the mechanics above us.
“It looks sturdy to me,” I said.
Miller inspected the way the golden ropes sprouted from the ceiling. “Might be the most stable part of this house.” Then those blue eyes met mine.“Sorry the mattress isbare. I thought you could froufrou it up with your pillows and whatnots.”
“It’s perfect.” I nudged my side into his and leaned into the warmth. “It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me in ages.”
“I like my tenants happy.”
“I’m your only tenant.”
“Our animals would disagree. Have you seen our chicken coops? They’re practically penthouses.”
“Every other Sugar Creek chicken is jealous.” I breathed in the clean, country air, letting it calm my spirit. “Is that your neighbor-visiting truck?”
Miller shot the Ford a glance. “Big Red might be old, but he’s a workhorse. He likes to get out and see the pretty girls in town from time to time.”
Well, bless my soul. Miller had just called me pretty. Recently rejected women tended to eat that sort of thing up. “Do you compliment all the girls on the farm?”
“Just part of your hiring package.”
We lapsed into a comfortable silence after that. The wind and Miller’s long legs moved the swing at a lullaby’s tempo, and I felt my eyelids growing heavier. The evening breeze sashayed like silk over my skin, and the scent of the wild roses and honeysuckle danced close by. August had days left of her duty and would soon surrender to the cooler nights of September.
“I’ve missed front-porch sitting,” I said lazily. “Couldn’t you just sleep here? Beneath the stars and listening to the crickets’ call?”
Miller swatted a bug from his arm. “Can’t remember the last time I just sat…with nothing to do.”
I lolled my head toward his and smiled. “How’s it going so far?”
Our faces were a breath apart, so close a strong breeze could blow us together. His gaze slowly traveled over the contours of my face before his eyes met mine. I wasn’t sure what I saw there, but gone was the hotheaded boss I’d dealt with earlier in the day. There were a thousand words behind those eyes, and I wondered if any of them involved me.
“Do you and your girlfriend ever just sit on a porch and do nothing?” Where had that question come from? The mood shifted as quickly as it had come.
Miller sat up, as if pulling himself from a trance. Had he felt something just then, or was it nothing more than my wild imagination and my runaway need to be loved? Maybe my rejection wound kicking in and making something out of absolutely nothing. Surely that was it.
He tunneled his fingers through his dark hair, and the tension in his posture returned. “There’s no sitting with Alexis. She plans every moment, and it’s nonstop.”
“That sounds fun.” As fun as a root canal.
“The pace is…an acquired taste.”
“And have you acquired it?”
“Last week we mutually decided to see other people,” he said by way of an answer.
Did that mean Miller already had another woman in his life? “Long-distance relationships are hard.” I’d had one myself six years ago. I’d dated that guy for six months. Apparently so had two other women—at the same time.
“Let’s not talk about Alexis,” he said.
“Okay. Your swing, your conversation choice.”
“It’syourswing, and it’s a gift. When you go back to Nashville, you’re welcome to take it with you.”
I sat with that statement awhile. “Already fantasizing about my departure?”
Miller opened his mouth with a response but shut it just as quickly. He stretched his arm across the back of the swing, his fingers tapping a nervous beat beyond my shoulder. “I, uh…I’m sorry about today.”
