He had taken me in his arms like he’d newly landed on home soil, and I was the war bride he hadn’t seen in years. Then he’d pressed his lips to mine, forever ruining me for anyone else’s sad attempts. The men before him? Just playing pretend with their sloppy, artless, immature kissing. They should be ashamed. I deserved a refund.
Miller’s performance? Heaven on earth. The stuff of dreams. Like “the world is about to explode, let’s make the most of our last few minutes before we burn.” It was all-consuming, a venomous bite that left its beautiful poison long after contact. Because here I was a day later, and it was all I could think about. It controlled me, haunted me, wouldn’t let me be.
I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.
“Hattie?” A steady hand jostled my knee in the truck. “Hattie?”
“Sorry.” I shook my addled head, praying right and reason would somehow return. “Did you say something, Miller?”
“You okay?” He glanced in his rearview mirror, checking on his nieces, before casting me a curious glance. “Thoughts of seeing your bio-dad making you anxious?”
“Yes.” I angled the two air vents right toward my heated face. “That’s it.”
I hadn’t caught sight of or talked to Miller all day. I’d stayed busy helping Rosie out at the bookshop while he’d done whatever it was he did on a Saturday. Tending to cattle, entertaining his nieces, renewing his contract with the devil that insured another year of virile masculinity, excessive charm, and unfair amounts of Adonis beauty.
Now four of us were headed to the Mission Springs Rodeo. Miller sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, completely nonplussed as if nothing had happened. The girls chattered in the backseat, watching videos on Ava’s phone. And me? Well, I was trying to play it cool and act as if I, too, did not recall the most searing kiss of my life—as if my life hadn’t just experienced a seismic shift, as if my earthly days would now not be categorized as Before Miller’s Kiss (BMK) and After Miller’s Kiss (AMK). Right now AMK’s world was about to do me in.
I’d texted Miller a few frantic messages today, canceling his attendance to the rodeo. He’d ignored them all and shown up at my door at promptly 5:45 p.m., dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a smile that dared me to send him home.
On the entire ride, I’d directed most of my conversation to the girls. Though it was hard to make chit-chat when Miller’s arm kept brushing against mine on the console between us. Yes, apparently I was now so far gone and depraved that a simple touch from his arm lit me up like a sparkler. If he tried to kiss me again, I’d probably faint dead away.
Miller parked the truck and helped his nieces get out. Ava and Poppy wandered a few paces ahead following the flow of the crowd.
“Hey, hold up.” Miller reached for my hand, forcing me to stop. “Are you going to be weird?”
I would’ve resented the question, but I knew myself all too well. “It’s kind of my default.”
He glanced down at our joined hands, then back to my flushed face. “I mean since we kissed.”
“What?” I tried to tone down the screech this time. “No. Nuh-uh. Why would that matter? I haven’t given it another thought.”
Miller’s lips curved in a rogue’s smile. “Not one?”
“Struggling to recall it even now.” I scrunched up my face in a terrible impersonation of mining the depth of my brain. Or having cramps. “Nope. Not much in the old memorybank.” I patted Miller’s chest. “I’m sure it was an okay kiss. Don’t take it personally.”
And with that, I ran after the girls, leaving a bewildered Miller following along behind us.
* * *
I’d reconsidered my plan to talk to Buck at least a dozen times.
Had Miller and the girls not been by my side, I would’ve left some time ago. Yet here we were. Still waiting.
It was Kids’ Night which meant the show opened with forty-five minutes of events performed by rodeo dynamos under the age of eighteen. With the order of appearances rearranged, the Sunset Boys would not do their thing until the end. That made for a long hour-and-a-half for all of us. Except for Poppy, who was riveted and declared she wanted to quit pre-K to join the rodeo.
Miller sat right by me, and I was hyperaware of his every move. His hand brushed against mine so many times, I lost count. Boy Scouts had started fires with less friction. His long legs seemed to take over my space, and more than once I found his arm planted behind my seat, his fingers perilously close to my hip.
My whole body hummed to a vibration created by Miller’s very existence. He was too close, yet somehow not close enough. I was sick with his fever, and I prayed for God to remove the plague as soon as possible.
And as if Miller’s proximity wasn’t constantly pressing replay on our wedding reception kiss, Miller had the audacity to be endlessly charming to his nieces. He chatted easily with the girls, entertaining them with humorous rodeo activity narration, and kept their snacks flowing. He might’ve been overconfident, smug, and not my usual type, but he was certainly excellent in the role of uncle. I really needed Miller to stop being wonderful in my presence. It was just rude.
Finally, the Sunset Boys appeared one by one. My stomach dropped when it was Buck’s turn, and not for the first time, I wondered what I was even doing. Once and for all, I should gather my purse, herd Miller and the girls, and go home.
“Don’t back down now.” Miller reached for my hand and squeezed it gently in his. “You can do this.”
I stared at Buck barely holding his own on the bull. Then back to my hand beneath Miller’s. “Maybe we should forget it. Head back to Sugar Creek.”
“Nope.” Miller’s smile held a world of kindness. “We didn’t come all the way here just to eat bad chili dogs. Let’s go talk to the infamous Buck Sorrel.”
