“My porch swing and I are here anytime you want to talk.”
Miller’s gaze swung out toward the dark yard as he slowly nodded. “Goodnight, Hattie.”
Chapter Thirteen
That night, I dreamed of Miller.
I’d been stranded on a desert island, and he’d piloted an airplane to save me. The poor fellow had endured turbulence midair, tragically losing his shirt in the descent. After landing on the tropical isle, Miller and his chiseled chest had run straight for me. He’d scooped me into his strong arms, and there, beneath the swaying palm trees, Miller James had kissed me breathless.
It had felt so right, so…soul-stirringly perfect.
I could’ve stayed on that island in his embrace forever.
“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” he’d whispered in my ear.
He was about to do just that…when my alarm went off.
The dream had seemed so real, so vivid that when I’d awakened, my skin was flushed hot and my lips still tingled from his kiss.
I seriously needed to stop reading Sylvie’s romance novels.
And thinking about Miller. What was wrong with me?
Three hours later, as I stood in the riding arena with Ernie and two clients, the star of my nocturnal fantasy strolled toward us, then stopped to recline against the gate. Hands slung over a top rung, his denim shirt layered with spots of earth, and a dusty baseball cap shading his forehead from the sun, Miller looked like the man to inspire a revival of Westerns. He was classically gorgeous, yet ruggedly handsome. He looked equally at home occupying a leather seat in the boardroom or knee-deep in the hayfield tending to his cattle.
“Hattie.”
My traitorous mind flashed to last night’s vision, and I saw Miller shirtless, the sun beaming down on every hard-earned muscle, his skin glistening with the heat.
“Hattie.”
Even in the dream, I’d felt the full impact of Miller’s kiss. His lips had been soft yet demanding. Adoring…yet a consuming flame. I’d felt like a spark floating its way to the sky, incinerated and heaven-bound.
“Hattie, watch out!” Ernie’s bellow snatched me away from my return to a tropical paradise just as Vicki Lawrence sank her teeth into my backside.
“Ow! Stop it, Vicki.” My head back in the ring, I tapped the horse’s shin with my foot. The gesture was painless but provided a jolt I wanted Vicki to associate with the obnoxious habit. Maybe someone should’ve tapped my shins as well.
“Tried to warn ya.” Ernie strolled by, walking Carol B. “You seem a bit distracted today.” He looked from me to Miller, then laughed as he moved along.
“Did that horse just bite you?” Miller opened the gate and made his way inside. His forehead contracted in a frown, and his assessing eyes roamed over me.
“What?” I rubbed Vicki’s nose, the roaring in my ears preventing sound from penetrating. Was it written all over my flushed face? Could Miller, the man who saw everything and missed nothing, tell that I’d had a dream about him? Could he see that I had a very clear picture in my head of the two of us intertwined?
I needed some space. Far away from Miller.
“Hattie, I’m talking to you. Stop walking away.”
Setting my shoulders, I pulled my focus from the horse and faced my boss. “I’m sorry. I was…distracted. Did you say something?”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Are you overheated?”
I was Junior High Hattie, caught passing a note in English class in eighth grade. Mrs. Clements had read the missive aloud, and Kyle Spots had known of my flowery affection. And not reciprocated. “No.” I forced my lips into a calm smile. “Of course not.”
“Your face is beet red.”
“As much as I’d like to stay here and continue to be showered with compliments on my appearance, I have work to do. Did you need something?”
Miller scrutinized me for another agonizing moment before proceeding. “I asked if that horse bit you.”
