“Might want to hurry though,” Miller said quietly. “While I’m willing to deal with the consequences, my date might get jealous.”
I could’ve kissed Miller right then and there. “Sylvie’s currently showing a trio of college boys how to properly twerk.” Even Rosie was dancing. I sniffled and tried to get it together. “I do require a little assistance.”
He must’ve heard that plaintive bend in my voice because he sat up. “What are you bringing to the negotiating table, Sutton?”
My gosh, I wanted to get out of there. But not before showing Ned the Cheater that I had indeed moved on. “I’ll deliver dinner for you and the girls tomorrow night.”
“I can toss nuggets and tots in the oven as good as anyone.”
“I’m talking a home-cooked dinner.”
He scrubbed a hand over his tired face as the music changed to a slower-paced tune. “I’m listening. Name your terms.”
“Two dances. Close contact. Tomorrow, I provide home cooking—lasagna, garlic bread, a few veggies that won’t make the girls gag, plus warm brownies.”
He tapped his fingers on the white tablecloth as he considered this. “Add some ice cream to those brownies and you have a deal.”
“Done.” But Miller made no move to get up from his seat. Did meneverget in a hurry? “I was thinking now might be a good time,” I prodded, wishing he’d end the misery of my standing there. “This song is a personal favorite.”
“It’s about a sexy hay bailer.”
I tuned into the twangy lyrics for the first time. “No self-respecting woman can deny the attraction of…farm implements.”
Miller’s lips twitched. “You trying to make someone jealous right now, Hattie?”
I knew the poor man hadn’t slept in a few days, and he was clearly starving. What kind of horrible person would I be if I gave into temptation and yanked his nearly catatonic body onto the dance floor?
Still. Not a hundred feet away was Ned, now cuddled up to his floozie of a girlfriend, his baby mama, looking so proud, like he’d slayed a dragon, scaled a castle tower, and won the heart of a snooty, loose-moraled princess.
“Maybe.”
He sighed then, a weary sound of resignation and deep exhaustion. “On a scale of one to five, five being indecent levels of shenanigans, how jealous are you wanting to make Ned?”
“Maybe a ten.”
Miller put down his fork and stretched his arms wide, his shirt pulling taut across those hills and valleys of muscles. He yawned and briefly closed his eyes, looking like he was minutes away from a catatonic sleep overtaking him. “A three’s about all I can manage tonight.”
“I’ll take it.” I’d just been handed double shots of relief, and I would do whatever it required to thank the bartender. I all but raced to the dance floor.
“Wait a minute,” Miller called from behind me.
I turned and found him standing ten paces away, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hot on mine. He slowly crooked a finger, beckoning me to him.
My throat went dry, and a chill slid across my bare arms.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“Don’t back down now,” I heard him say over the loud music.
With a bit of trepidation I sidestepped a swaying couple and closed the distance between us. “Yes?”
Those eyes searched mine as he ran a finger over the arch of my ear, eliciting a shiver along my skin. “If you’re dancing with me, I take the lead.”
I mutely nodded.
Then with a smile on his lips, Miller reached for my hand and slipped his fingers between mine. “Let’s go make that loser jealous.”
Miller pulled me back to the dance floor, smiling at onlookers who were taking note. The crowd seemed to part wherever he went, as people were either getting out of the way of the intimidating businessman or too stupefied by his intoxicating blend of charisma and aesthetic perfection. I felt the envious stare of every single woman as one of Miller’s arms wrapped tightly around me, while the other kept a firm grip on my hand.
