by Dyan Chick
"I don't think so." She shook her head, then looked down at the ground, freeing me from her gaze.
I leaned down and gently grabbed hold of her slim ankle. "Hold on."
Tugging, I pulled at her stuck foot. Her grip tightened on me and I fought the urge to look back up at her.
Her foot was still stuck in the mud. Time to change tactics. I wrapped my arms around her waist.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her words objecting to our closeness while her body pressed closer to me. She was a contradiction and in that moment, I knew she was feeling the same strange attraction that I was.
I didn't give her time to argue with me. Instead, I pulled her up, bringing her closer to me as I lifted her out of the mud. I heard a pop like a suction cup releasing and then we were both on the ground.
The woman fell on top of me, our arms still wrapped around each other.
"That went well," I said.
She laughed. A musical, melodious sound that made me smile. An honest, non-faking smile. It made my cheeks hurt but I didn't care. I was pretty sure I'd do just about anything to hear her laugh and I didn't even know her name.
Chapter Three
Millie
My heart raced and I felt hot. Which didn't make any sense. It was two in the morning and while it was warm enough to wear a dress out here, there was a chill to the air. But the air seemed to come to a stop. Everything felt heavy and was moving in slow motion.
Under me, muscles tensed and shifted as the handsome man I'd fallen on top of smiled up at me.
"That went well," he said.
That was one way to put it. I smiled back at him, and realized I was laying on top of a perfect stranger covered in mud. To make matters worse, we were in a cemetery in the middle of the night. I started laughing. There was nothing typical about this situation. The only choice was to laugh.
Catching my breath, I found myself drawn to the stranger under me. He was probably close to my age. Maybe a few years older. His dark hair was a sexy mess and his dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight. He was clean shaven, showing the strong line of his jaw, leading to very soft, kissable looking lips.
I blinked and tore my eyes from him. What the hell was I thinking? Clearing my throat, I slid my arms from behind him and shifted so I could roll off of him. I landed on my ass in the mud next to him. Embarrassment made my cheeks heat and I covered my face with my hands before running them through my hair.
I froze, hands on top of my head, when I remembered they were covered in mud. Shoulders sagging, I dropped my hands to my side. Figures. Of course I'd meet an attractive man and then act like a complete fool in front of him.
"I'm Beau." He extended an equally muddy hand out to me.
I tried to shake some of the mud from mine, but it was too thick. I grasped his hand in mine. "Millie."
He stood, holding my hand in his, helping pull me up. "Are you alright, Millie?"
"Aside from the injured pride?" I asked.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks," I said. "But I'm pretty sure that the muddy footprints leading to my room will give me away."
I glanced over to where I'd gotten stuck. My shoe was still buried in the mud. Considering it a lost cause, I leaned down and removed the other heel. For a moment, I wondered if I should shove it into the mud with its match. A single shoe wasn't going to do me much good.
"My house is right there." Beau pointed. "You're welcome to get yourself cleaned up. There's probably some spare clothes you can use. I mean, they all belonged to a ninety-year-old woman so I can't attest to the style."
"You're in the Miller house?" I asked. "How come I've never seen you around here before?"
"I only visited in the summers," I said.
My brow furrowed. How was it possible this man was so close to me and we’d never met? Hearth was a small town.
"Are you Susan's granddaughter?" he asked.
I started at the use of my grandmother's name. "Yes. Do you know my grandmother?"
"Aunt Esther talked about her all the time," he said. "Apparently your grandmother and my great aunt had some wild times in their youth."
My grandmother had been close with Esther. In fact, when she called to inform me of her death, it was the closest I'd ever heard to actual tears from the woman. She might have actually cried at the loss of her friend.
"Can I walk you back home at least if you won't take my offer?" he asked.
I considered his words. He seemed nice enough. And he was certainly good looking enough to make me consider making some poor decisions with him. Besides, my grandmother would probably roll her eyes at me being out all night with a man. Getting mud on the floor would yield a tongue lashing. I'd rather take the judgement about my purity than deal with her neat-freak wrath. "Your place sounds good."
I tossed my other shoe over my shoulder as I walked barefoot through the mud. Apparently, it had rained recently enough that the whole place was a mess, but I'd been so focused on my goal I hadn't stopped to think about it. I glanced at the handsome man in front of me who'd just lost a member of his family. Had he been out here visiting his dead great aunt?
"You come here often?" Beau asked, turning to glance at me over his shoulder.
I hesitated. I didn't like coming during the day and seeing other mourners. It made me too sad. But in the middle of the night, the cemetery was calm and peaceful. I'd once told my ex that I liked to pay my respects to my parents at night. He laughed and called me unstable. I frowned. That should have been my first clue that he wasn't as invested in the relationship as I was. Cheating bastard.
I considered making up an excuse for why I was here. Getting judged again wasn't something I wanted to go through. Then, I realized I had nothing to prove to this stranger. It wasn't like I was trying to start a relationship. "I like it better at night."
"I do too," he said. "It's peaceful at night. No fake mourners or expectations."
"You're the first person who has ever understood that," I said. "When my parents first died, I came once when I was in that angry at the world phase and I screamed at their headstones. The looks I got..."
"I can imagine," he said. "It gets easier, though, doesn't it?"
"What gets easier?" I asked.
"Dealing with death."
"I suppose." I wasn't angry at my parents anymore. It wasn't their fault they couldn't see the other car in the downpour. Sometimes life just dealt you a shitty hand.
"I'm the only one left," he said. "I came to see if I can dig up some other relative to give the house to."
"You don't want to stay here?" I asked. "You could just sell the place."
"I know I can but it meant a lot to other people," he said.
"Dead people," I said.
He laughed. "I have no idea why I'm telling you all of this."
I shrugged. "Maybe there's something about a cemetery at night that brings out the honesty in a person."
"Or the crazy," he said.
"That too." I found myself using my flirty voice. It wasn't on purpose, but I knew he caught it based on the slight hesitation in his step.
I shouldn't be flirting with a strange man I met in a cemetery. For all I knew, he was a weirdo who had a fetish with dead bodies. And then there was me, willingly going to his house alone.
I knew I should turn around but I couldn't make the logical parts of my brain fire. This was Hearth, after all. The sleepy little town that shut down on Sunday mornings because everyone went to one of the twelve churches in town. Twelve. For a teeny-tiny population. And they were all packed.
Beau stopped walking and turned to look at me. His eyes traveled down and I knew he was checking me out. He definitely caught the scent of flirty voice.
Squaring my shoulders, I continued until I was standing next to him. "Everything okay?"
Without warning, he swept me up into his arms.
I squealed, my whole body tensing in his grasp. "What the hell!"
; "Rocks," he said.
"What?"
"Look down," he said.
I looked down. The border of the cemetery was a massive rock bed. It would have hurt like hell to walk across on bare feet. Or it would have taken me an hour to cross if I managed to make it without slipping and breaking my ankle. "Thanks."
My tension eased and I enjoyed the feel of his muscles flexing as he walked. Out of habit or because I was a psycho, I breathed deep, trying to get a sniff of his scent. Oddly, I could only smell the magnolia and honeysuckle mingling with the humid air. My brow furrowed. Beau was different from the boys I'd dated as a teen when I’d lived here. And he was definitely different from the men I'd dated in Chicago. It wasn't the lack of smell, though. There was something else. Something bigger. I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Beau set me down, gently, on the grass. "We've officially crossed into Miller property. If you would rather go home, it's that way." He pointed into darkness.
While the Millers were our nearest neighbors, it was still a good fifteen minute walk. Covered in mud.
I lifted an eyebrow, half hoping he'd sweep me up again and carry me into his house kicking and screaming. I shook my head, wondering where that thought had come from. "I think I'll take my chances here."
Chapter Four
Beau
Everything about her seemed to call to me. I could almost feel the flow of the blood in her veins as I walked next to her toward my family home. She was the most alive human I'd ever met. It took all of my willpower not to tear into her throat right there. But I was a gentleman. I'd wait for her, but I was determined to have her.
"You can use the guest bathroom," I said as I walked through the front door.
"Oh, Hearth," she said, wistfully. "I forgot about the unlocked doors and wholesome feel to this place."
"Where did you live before?" I asked.
"I grew up here," she said. "But I spent the last five years in Chicago making bad decisions, as you do."
I chuckled. "Been there."
"You?" she asked as she wiped her muddy feet on the mat at the door.
"All over, really," I said. "I never found a place to settle down. None of the places I've been ever felt like home."
"You know, not everyone gets that," she said, shaking her head. "I used to think everyone knew that feeling, but that's not the case."
I stared at her, drawn in to her beauty, even covered in mud. She walked with grace and power at the same time; both sure of herself and cautious. Her long blonde hair was a tangled mess that fell around her face, making her look like she just woke up. It was incredibly sexy. I wondered if she knew what she was doing to me.
"Upstairs?" she asked.
"Yes, second door on the left," I said.
"Thanks." She smiled before she turned away from me and climbed the stairs.
I watched her ass as she climbed. It had been a long time since I'd been around anyone who threatened my impulses the way Millie did. If I hadn't already fed before I'd run into her, I don't know what would have happened.
I took a breath in and breathed it out slowly, forcing myself to ignore the cry for Millie's blood. Feeling calmer, I went up the steps to find her something to wear.
The sound of the shower was a welcome distraction to keep my mind from going places it shouldn't. Everything about Millie was calling to me. Her scent, the curve of her hips, the sound of her voice. I couldn't get her out of my head. Focusing on the task at hand, I opened the door to the room that had belonged to Esther Miller, the woman I was pretending had been my great aunt. In reality, she was a great-great-great niece. I'd never had children, but the sister and brother I'd left behind had married and had kids and carried on the family name.
Esther's room smelled even stronger of the perfume she favored, but it was rendered nearly gone by the scent of moth balls once I opened the closet.
Dresses, pant suits, blouses, and house coats hung in a neat row. All of the clothes looked like they'd been frozen in time, reminding me of what people had been wearing several decades ago. I wasn't a fashion expert by any means, but even I could tell these were out dated.
Digging through, I found a floral dress that looked small enough to possibly fit Millie. Surprisingly, it still had the tags on it. I wondered if someone had tried to help Esther adapt to the new millennium at some point. Or if there had been someone else who lived here.
My solo digging through family records hadn't yielded any insight into illegitimate family members so far. Tomorrow, I would go into town. Maybe I could get some gossip from some locals.
I knocked on the bathroom door. "I found something for you to wear."
No answer.
Carefully, I cracked the door open and peeked inside.
Millie was standing with her head upside down, wrapping a towel around her wet hair. Her back was to me and I could see the curves that I'd been admiring in all their glory. Her lean back led to soft curves on her hips and round ass. I closed the door quickly, moving away from the door. Aroused, I ached for release. It had been a long time since the sight of a woman made me stand at attention. If I stayed any longer, my attraction would have been obvious to anyone that caught a glance of my jeans.
I knocked again, mentally preparing myself for the reaction I might have.
She opened the door a crack and peeked through, hiding her body behind the door. "Hi."
"Hi. Um, I found this." I turned the dress, still on the hanger, sideways and pushed it through the crack.
She took it from me. "Thanks."
I nodded. "I'll be downstairs."
"Hold up," she said, then she closed the door.
A minute later she opened the door, new dress on, soaking wet hair hanging in messy strands around her face. She was free of makeup, hadn't even brushed her hair, and had been covered in mud until a few minutes ago. Who was this woman? She exuded confidence and came across as one of the most carefree spirits I'd ever met. Every second I spent with her was making her even more irresistible. I needed to get her out of here before I tried to rip that dress back off of her.
"Want to give me the tour?" she asked. "I’ve always wanted to see what the rest of this place looked like. I've only seen the main floor. Esther was always so adamant about keeping us kids away from the upstairs."
"I don't think you missed much, but I'm happy to show you around," I said.
"Lead the way," she said with a smirk.
My pants felt tighter and I hoped she wouldn't notice. What was it about her? If I was smart, I'd kick her out right now. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. "This way."
I showed her the guest bedrooms, Esther's room, and the three large rooms that were piled floor to ceiling with junk.
"So this is what she was hiding," Millie said. "Esther was a hoarder."
"I'm not looking forward to clearing it out," I said.
"You'll need a box of latex gloves, a hundred trash bags, and help," she said.
"You offering?" I asked, instantly wishing I could take it back.
"I've got nothing else to do." She shrugged. "Going through someone else's junk might be a nice distraction."
Millie shivered, then crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd think I'd be warm here."
I darted into Esther's room and found a pink cardigan. "Here."
Millie shrugged it on and became the first woman I'd ever seen make a pink cardigan look sexy.
"Come on," I said, "I'll drive you home."
Chapter Five
Millie
Someone was pounding on my door. I groaned and pulled the blankets over my face. It was nearly five in the morning the last time I saw the clock. Whatever time it was, it was still too early.
"Millie Mae, you know how I feel about sleeping past nine."
Cursing my choice to move back here, I threw the blankets off. "I'm up."
"Breakfast is ready."
Grateful for the early morning shower, I quickly pulled off the borrowed dress I'd slept
in as I glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning. I was going to need buckets of coffee today.
Dressed in comfy cotton shorts and a Saints tee shirt that was two sizes too big, I climbed down the stairs, motivated only by the smell of coffee filling the house.
Grandma was already seated at the dining room table, a bowl of hot oatmeal in front of her and a matching bowl in the extra place across from her. It was the same breakfast she ate every day. When I'd moved out, I thought I'd never want to eat the stuff again, but I had to admit, there were a few times I'd ordered actual cooked oatmeal at brunch much to the raised eyebrows of my friends over their avocado toast. It was comfortable, familiar. Probably the same way chicken noodle soup was to others. We didn't do that here.
I settled in and started dressing up the bowl with fruit and sugar. "Thanks for making breakfast."
"Forgetting something?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
I finished the sip of coffee and set the mug down. "Right."
"Dear lord," my grandma began her morning prayer.
I zoned out the rest of it, my thoughts finding their way to my encounter last night with Beau. Wishing I hadn't hoped he'd join me in that shower the whole time I'd been cleaning myself off. I knew I was in no place for a relationship. My last one left me broken enough that crawling back here was my only option. I wasn't good for anyone right now.
"Amen."
I looked up from my bowl and caught my grandmother staring at me suspiciously. That was just like her. Overly expressive enough that you had to ask the questions. That way, she wasn't the one prying.
I let out a sigh, resigned to the fact that it would be easier to get this over with now. "Yes?"
"You weren't in your bed when I got up to use the facilities," she said.
"No, I wasn't," I said.
She lifted an eyebrow.
"I went to visit them."
Her expression softened. "I know you miss them. But, Millie Mae, can't you pay your respects in the daylight like respectable folks?"