“After I grilled the world’s most perfect steaks, we’d take a walk beneath the moonlight along the shoreline. Then I’d pop open a bottle,and we’d sit in chairs near the water’s edge and listen to it lap the shore in the dark of night.” Miller’s hand stroked my back, gentle circles that did everything but lull. “At some point, I’d take your hand much like I have it now.” He brought my fingers to his lips, slowly pressing his mouth to my skin. “Then I’d pull you to your feet, and we’d slow dance to the love song I’d flawlessly hum.”
Caught in his spell, I heard myself whisper, “You’re a terrible singer.”
“Art is subjective.” He brushed my hand against his lips again, then rested it against his heart. “Then as the waves ebbed and the wind cooled, I’d have held your face in my hands just like this.” Strong hands that had birthed a cow, tilled the soil, and wiped his niece’s tears now slid along my jawline and lightly framed my cheeks.
Was…was he going to kiss me? “There…”
His mouth hovered near my ear. “Yes?”
“There might be bugs.”
“They wouldn’t dare intrude on us, Hattie.”
“Probably some insane humidity.”
“I’d have made sure you didn’t even notice.” And then Miller’s head dipped and he sealed his lips over mine.
All I could think was…finally.
I’d wondered, I’d dreamed. But none of those romantic musings could compare to the reality of Miller’s kiss.
The impact was instantaneous, a crossing of the negative and positive cables on a battery. My heart was definitely jump-started, and surely there were sparks. My mind pushed away all worries and words, only allowing feelings. I was giddy, euphoric, on fire.
I pulled Miller even closer, but he did not take my signal to speed things up. No, this gentleman farmer changed the angle of the kiss, nice and slow, like a spring storm rolling in from the west, sliding in from a distant sky.
I sighed against his lips and wondered where a man learned to kiss like this. Did they teach this sort of thing in a special class? Were there YouTube videos on this level of make-out expertise?
His kiss felt like sanctuary and sin.
With one brush of his mouth, I momentarily forgot Ned, couldn’t recall the moment he’d let me go. Miller’s touch was a baptism, washing away all the old hurt and shame. I felt enough, adored. Wanted.
A heady fog filled my head, pushing away any lingering dark memory until only raw feeling remained. My fingers tingled as they explored. My heart raced to a new rhythm. My hands moved of their own volition, traveling up the ridges of Miller’s chest, as if they had a right to learn the lay of the land.
When his tongue met mine, I startled. This kiss felt very…authentic. As if Miller meant it. And here I was, sighing into it and silently demanding more.
This was what poets had written about. This was the stuff that inspired love songs. I’d been playing in the minor leagues all this time and never even known it. Miller James was batting in the majors.
He was…
He was…stopping?
Miller released my bottom lip, then brushed his mouth across mine one more time. “Your ex just stormed out,” I thought I heard him say from a place far, far away. “Hattie?” He retreated, his body disconnecting, distancing, a void of heat and kinetic energy. He gave me a polite peck on the top of my head. “I think we just made Ned sufficiently jealous.”
Bubbles of air filled my dizzy mind, and I struggled to recall basic life functions. The whole inhale-exhale process suddenly seemed complicated and more than I could handle. How did blinking work again? Did eyelids just raise and lower by themselves? “Thank you,” I somehow managed.
We both stared at one another as if we weren’t certain of what had happened, as if we’d ridden out a hurricane and were still trying to assess the damage and find which parts remained whole.
I couldn’t stand the silence. “That was…”
“Effective.” Miller frowned as he watched the doorway through which Ned had apparently exited. Then returned his focus back to me. “Mission accomplished.”
“Right.” I was pretty sure I was looking at a man now two-stepping with regret.
But then that tense face gave way to his usual arrogant visage, and Miller tipped an invisible cowboy hat. “Anything for a friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miller James had kissed me senseless less than twenty-four hours ago.
