“Sounds very therapeutic. Maybe you should consider it.”
He gently tugged twice on my braid. “Maybe I will.”
“Now,” I said, needing to distract my raging hormones. “It’s your turn to talk.”
“That’s it? That’s all the information I get?”
“Just the CliffsNotes version tonight. Now quit deflecting. Pick your vein and spill.”
“Fine.” With a great sigh, Miller slapped his hands on his knees and sat up. “Let’s take a drive.”
Wait a minute. There was no way being closed up alone in a truck with Miller was a good idea. “We could talk here. I’m pretty tired.”
“Me too.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go be tired together.”
Alarm bells clanged in my head, and I wondered what this meant. What were Miller and I becoming? Close friends? Friends with Sparks? Friends Who Flirted and Shared Porch Talks and Country Drives? “Where is it we’re going?”
“Around the farm. I thought we could go check on a few cows then swing by the creek.”
It was everything I could do to spit out my next question. “Would Alexis mind?”
“We’re over. I ended it last week.” That was it. No further explanation.
“I see.” I wish relief didn’t immediately surge, but it did.
“So about that drive?” Miller sounded almost bored.
I wanted my lips to say no. But they did not comply. “A drive would be nice.”
The passenger door squawked in protest as Miller opened it for me. There, sitting in the space between us, was a cooler and a bag of snacks. “You really did bring wine, didn’t you?” I asked when he started the truck.
“I like to be prepared.” He shot me a devastating smile. “Are you ready, Hattie?”
Was I ready? For a ride in the country? For more time with Miller? For another heartbreak?
I was pretty sure the answer was no.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Iwas riding shotgun in a doomed fantasy, and Miller James was at the wheel.
He kept an easy banter up as he drove, the truck heaving and chugging over dirt roads and green fields. Occasionally he got out and either offered grain to a group of cattle or gave a lengthy inspection to a section of fence. The humidity had the grace to be almost nonexistent tonight, a sign that fall was tiptoeing in. A light breeze blew my hair and caressed my arm that hung out the window.
Eventually the truck rambled toward Sugar Creek, the portion of it that ran between a thick grove of trees on a shaded piece heaven on Miller’s acreage.
Miller backed the vehicle up to the creek bed, then hopped out and lowered the tailgate. “You can stay in the truck if you want,” he called when I didn’t make a move to get out. “But the wine’s out here with me.”
This moment felt different—like I might be on the verge of a plot twist. Were we just two friends hanging out? A boss and his employee? A love-deprived woman and her unassuming crush?
In the end, I hopped up beside Miller, letting my legs dangle over the rocks and watching the creek shimmy and flow. The trickling sound of the water had an instant calming effect, and I breathed deeply to the melody.
Miller poured some pinot grigio into a plastic cup and handed it to me. “This old Ford was my brother-in-law’s.”
I swallowed a drink of wine and gave him my full attention. “I didn’t know that.”
He poured his own cup and cast his gaze toward the creek. “There’s an old Dr Pepper bottle of Jonathan’s beneath the seat. One of his cheap pairs of sunglasses is still hooked to the visor.” Miller watched a fish jump in the stream. “It even has this pine tree thing dangling from the rearview mirror that I sometimes hold up to my nose, as if a dollar store air freshener ever meant anything to him.”
“They’re all signs of life,” I said. “Things Jonathan has touched.”
