“There are a hundred more examples where those last ones came from.”
I faked a yawn. “Too bad I don’t have time to hear more. Look, my quality-dude detector could be fine-tuned, but I’ve also encountered more than my share of bad luck.”
“You’ve had two broken engagements.”
Hearing that failure out loud still felt like a double-fisted punch to the kidneys.“Are you saying those breakups are my fault?” Had he tapped into the negative feedback loop constantly playing in my head?
Miller’s hand cupped around my ankle and squeezed. “I’m saying you’re too nice and see the best in everyone.”
“That’s not true. I’m currently struggling to like you right now.” And I certainly hadn’t liked Lincoln.
“Your high school boyfriends were deplorable.”
“I prefer the termworks in progress.”
“One dropped out his junior year, one guy made you pay for everything, and that dude you dated your senior year cried all the time.”
“Maybe I like a sensitive soul.” Though Timmy had read a lot of Nicholas Sparks, now that I thought about it.
“Hattie, admit it. You’re great at picking friends, but terrible at picking boyfriends.”
I really hated it when Miller was right. It was like a tiny piece of glass under the skin—irritating, painful, and hard to dislodge. I’d done so much self-work through the years, and yet, here I was—still floundering with men on this cycle of mistakes. My dating life was aGroundhog Dayof romantic errors. “Is it so terrible that I see the good in people?”
His arm rested on the back of my seat cushion and plucked at a loose thread. “It’s a sweet quality.”
“Okay, you say ‘sweet’ like I say ‘food poisoning.’”
“You have to admit the characteristic has led to some wasted time and heartache.”
“I wouldn’t say it was wasted time. Every relationship has taught me something.”
“Yeah, that your guy radar is broken. Let me help.”
“Why?”
“Because.” He seemed to struggle with this, as eyes the color of cornflowers held mine for the span of three heartbeats, before his attention suddenly shifted to the open window. “Because you’re my best friend’s sister, and we’re practically family.”
I did not want to think about Miller as family. That made my kissing dream of him even more disturbing than it already was.
“I’m merely offering to screen your potential dates,” he said.
Surely this was a terrible idea. “Are you seriously this bored?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Well.” I wasn’t sure how to read his hushed tone. “Don’t be.”
“Also your sisters again asked for a little intervention. Again.”
There it was. The true motivation. “That’s very kind.”
“Want to say that with your fists not clenched?” Miller’s hand reached for mine, then pried my fingers from their angry grip.
I stared at our hands, wondering why the temperature indoors seemed to have spiked twenty degrees. “It’s also very intrusive and…” I pulled back my hand. “Rude.”
“What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity?”
