He closed the distance between us, taking in my chaotic appearance. “Are you okay?”
I frowned and pulled a wet lock of hair from my lashes. “Perfectly.”
“Ava thought you probably got caught by the storm and were still in here.”
Miller smelled like aftershave and dry towels. I wasn’t sure there was a better combination. “I’m fine. Just waiting until the rain eases a bit.”
He dangled his umbrella. “Get in the truck and I’ll take you home. I’ve got coffee to warm you up on the drive.”
Miller’s unexpected thoughtfulness would not be my kryptonite. “No, I’m fine. I’m catching up on some work, then I’ll walk home.”
“Are you wearing a horse blanket?”
I sniffed toward the fabric. “I’m forty percent sure it’s clean.”
“Come on, Hattie. Let me drive you home. You’re sopping wet and going to catch pneumonia.”
“That’s not a legit possibility.”
“Neither are all the reasons you’ve concocted for avoiding me.” Miller reached out and pulled a leaf from the tangle of my hair. “Your avoidance is starting to tick me off.”
“I’m sorry my feelings inconvenience you.”
Miller’s intensity was its own storm. “And what are your feelings?”
I’d walked right into that one. “That we keep things professional.”
“That’s a decision. Not your feelings.” He put the umbrella and thermos down, and it was not lost on me that his hands were now free to reach for me.
Not that I wanted him to.
“I saw my dad today,” I blurted, trying desperately to steer this lusty boat in a different direction.
Miller took another step forward. “How’d that go?”
“I got pancakes out of the deal.”
“Your dad was a fool to walk away from you. Real men don’t do that.”
My heart swelled at his words, and my resistance began to crumble like cheap plaster. “You guys do it all the time. It’s easy.”
“You’ve spent a lifetime making it your fault.” His thumb traced away a raindrop that had slipped from my hair to my cheek. “Would you tell those veterans you help that their trauma is all their fault?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Your dad leaving was never about you.”
“Okay,” I said knowing it was not, in fact, okay, but wondering how Miller’s eyes could be so blue, so full of oceans and sunsets and afternoon storms.
“Glad we got that settled.” His voice rumbled low as distant thunder and elicited chills along my damp skin. “Now let’s talk about us.”
This was the part where I should’ve moved, where I should’ve put space and good intentions between us. “Miller…”
“Give me the truth, Hattie.”
“I can’t.” And thatwasthe truth. How I felt about Miller needed to be tied up and buried in a deep Ozark ditch where the ivy and peat moss grew.
Miller chewed on his lower lip a moment before seeming to reach some resolute conclusion in his head. “Then I’ll tell you how I feel.”
