by Lena North
“I didn’t,” he said with a grin.
Then Miller ambled in with a cup of coffee in his hand. He wore a loose tee and a pair of shorts, and his hair was even more unruly than usual.
“They’re mine,” he muttered and sat down in the huge chair next to me.
I stared at the plate, wondering if he seriously was going to eat six huge sandwiches. He glanced at me and waved a hand in front of him.
“Made too many, you should eat a few, or I’ll get fat.”
“Are you crazy?” I asked, and went on before my brain caught up with my mouth, “You’re seriously ripped, Mill.”
Then a blush warmed my cheeks because I’d remembered how I knew, and how good he had looked without his clothes on.
“You noticed that, huh?” he said with a lazy grin.
“I –”
“Good to know,” he continued, grabbed a sandwich and nudged the plate toward me. “Eat,” he ordered.
I closed my mouth, and as I leaned forward, Bo walked into the room, dressed to the nines and with his face flawlessly made up.
“I’m off to war!” he announced.
My hand dropped, and I stared at him.
He waved his hand around in the air and announced, “I’ll be gone for days and days, buying half the world, because the stores are lame like old fish.”
I had no clue if fish could even be lame but I anyway guessed he meant that he was going on a business trip.
“I’ll keep Carson out of trouble,” I said and blew him a kiss.
“Fantastico,” Bo exclaimed. “Although your trouble-restraining duties will be over already tomorrow, my lovely.”
Then he blew us kisses with both his hands and left.
“You’re leaving too?” I asked Carson.
“Yup,” he replied with a grin. “I’ll be off to see an old army buddy, will spend the night with him.”
“You were in the army?” I asked.
This was a surprise. I knew Kit had spent a few years in the army and hadn’t liked it. I’d had no clue his father had served as well.
“Sure, almost ten years,” he answered.
“Really?”
“Yup. Helicopter pilot. Loved it.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Kit’s Ma died, Mary. He was six, and it was a rough time for both of us, so he needed me.”
I could have kicked myself for asking.
“I’m sorry, Carson, I shouldn’t have –”
“Honey, it was a long time ago. I loved her to bits, but life moves on because it has to. She was sick for a long time, and in so much pain that I think it was a relief for her to let go in the end. In a way, it was a relief for me too.”
I knew about that feeling and the guilt that came with it.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
He didn’t say anything else but gave my cheek a soft caress as he leaned down to grab a sandwich.
“Do you want me to keep the restaurant open while you’re gone?” I asked
“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’ll put a post on the gate, and we’ll just keep it closed.”
Miller and I tried to help Carson in the kitchen that day, but he threw us out almost immediately, saying that it got too crowded, Miller’s leg could do with some exercise and we should go for a walk.
At first we just strolled in silence, and I started to worry because Miller had practically been forced to spend time with me when he might have wanted to be alone instead. Then he asked about my job as a waitress, and from there we kept talking as we went down to look at some ruins not far from Carson and Bo’s house.
After the walk, Miller agreed to sit still for a while so I could draw him and we moved to the side porch. We kept talking quietly, and I drew his profile as he looked up at the sky. Then he suddenly turned toward me and smiled sleepily.
“Today is a good day,” he said.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
It looked like he’d say something else, but a car door slammed in front of the house, and it broke the moment.
“We should see if Carson needs help,” I murmured.
He sighed and got to his feet, pulling me out of my chair.
“Come,” he said.
He didn’t let go of my hand until we rounded the house and since there was a lot of people there, most of whom he seemed to know, I left to get some coffee to clear my head. Something had changed between us and I felt a little giddy and a lot like the silly young girl I wished I wasn’t.
Carson glanced up from the veggies he was frying and started to laugh.
“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “If you’re going to have some coffee, then have it with the family sitting to the side, will you? They are nice but new to the area, and they’re a bit shy about being here.”
I filled a cup and went out to spend a very pleasant afternoon with the young family. Carson had been right, they were nice, and when Miller joined us a few of the others did too. When they all left, the family had made dinner plans with another couple and scheduled a play date with the grand-children of a couple that was regulars at Carson’s place. I liked the thought of being a part of a community where people cared, one that was inclusive and friendly. I wouldn’t live in Prosper city longer than I absolutely had to, I decided.
We had dinner when everyone had left, and I went to scoop up three bowls of vanilla ice-cream for dessert. I took two steps toward the pantry and froze. The door to the small, dark room was open, and it would be easy to turn on the light, but I still couldn’t make myself go in there. The marshmallows and caramel sauce was in the pantry, but we’d have to do without.
“Come,” Miller suddenly murmured behind me and took hold of my hands.
Then he wrapped my arms, and his, around me and with his bigger frame it felt like I was completely surrounded.
“We’ll walk together, and if you want to back up then just say so, and I’ll get us out of there.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
Then we took slow steps into the pantry. Miller flipped the light-switch with his elbow and kept holding me. At first, I thought I’d make it, but then I got an awful feeling of being locked up again and tensed.
Miller immediately started singing quietly. It was an old nursery song, about eating your green beans in blue jeans, and how if they got torn you should have corn. Then he started swaying a little, moving his feet to the song, and I laughed as I started singing with him. I let go of one of his hands, grabbed the caramel sauce and the bag of marshmallows. We were still singing when we turned and found Carson staring at us. Without breaking a stride, Miller kept singing as he walked us out of the pantry, but I was laughing so hard I had trouble breathing.
“Huh,” Carson said with a long look at his brother. Then he grabbed the things from my hands and told us to get coffee, and he’d bring the ice-cream.
I slept on the couch, though that night, I turned off all the lights except for the small lamp on the table next to me. It felt like a victory.
***
Fifteen minutes after Carson had left the next day, Miller’s phone rang, and about five minutes later he came into the kitchen where I was cleaning up after our brunch.
“We’re going to Norton, baby, can you be ready in five?”
I straightened and blinked. Norton? Baby?
Then I saw his face and decided that his narrowed brows and serious appearance meant something had happened and guessed that he wouldn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion about his vocabulary, or our destination.
“Sure, do you need me to pack anything?”
“No need. See you outside.”
Then he put the phone to his ear, muttered, “I’m on my way, we’re leaving in a few minutes,” and walked away.
So I changed clothes, grabbed a sketch pad and my pens, and tucked them into my purse. I was by his car before he walked out of the house.
“C
an I ask why I’m going to Norton?” I asked as he got back in the car after lowering and locking the beam by the entrance.
“Mrs. McCullen’s cat got hit by a car, Mac’s at Double H, our sub is away for the day, and I want to try saving the poor thing’s leg.”
“Sub?”
“Substitute. We’re not in Norton enough these days, so we added a third vet on rotation to cut us some slack.”
“Okay, but Mill, none of this explains why I am on my way to Norton.”
“Mary, you were kidnapped,” he said patiently.
“Miller, I know,” I said just as patiently.
“Smartass,” he muttered. “Until we’ve hunted all of them down you have someone with you always, so I wasn’t going to leave you alone at Carson’s place.”
“Someone?” I asked, baffled by the fact that I’d apparently had a bodyguard for a while, without even knowing it.
“Yeah. One of the men, Wilder, or Carson. D’Augustine will do in a pinch. The nerdy doc if we absolutely have to.”
“Jamie?” I asked. “Wouldn’t Jinx be better? Or, I don’t know… Anyone?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“The dude is fit enough, and a decent shot. He’s also clever as hell.”
“Well, he would be, having gone through med school,” I agreed.
“Honey, he’s twenty-one years old, going on twenty-two. And he’s been a doc for a few years already.”
I straightened and turned to him.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Wow. I’d heard that Jamie had been in the same horrid program that Jinx had been in, but his goofy appearance had made me forget just how intelligent that would make him.
“What do you want to do, go with me to the clinic, walk around in the village, or go to my place?” Miller asked when we saw Norton ahead of us.
I really, really, wanted to see his home but assumed that he wanted to get to the injured animal as quickly as possible.
“Is it far from the clinic to the village?” I asked.
He snorted, and muttered, “Honey, it’s Norton. Nothing is far.”
“Okay, then let’s get you to the clinic, and then I’ll find somewhere to have coffee.”
“I’ll drop you off at the coffee shop, five minutes won’t matter,” he countered.
He’d been right about Norton being small, but I thought it looked lovely. There seemed to be one main street through the village, and Miller sped along it.
“Aren’t you going too fast?” I asked.
“You think Hawk’ll arrest me?” he asked back with a grin.
Fair point. I did not think Hawker Johns would arrest his second in command for speeding on Main Street.
“Here it is,” he said, slowing down marginally until he stopped abruptly with half his car up on the sidewalk.
I got out and glared at him.
“What?” he grinned, moved an arm around my back and steered me toward a combined book, shoe, and coffee shop.
“Miller,” a big man boomed when we approached the counter at the back.
“Jack,” Miller said and shook the man’s hand.
“And what would your name be?” the man asked me.
“Mary,” I said.
“Lovely name for a lovely girl,” he said with a wink, and I giggled.
“Cut it, Jack,” Miller murmured and gave the man a look that didn’t seem too friendly.
“Aha,” Jack said, and his grin widened. “You sure kept that one under the radar, man,” he added.
I realized that the man thought I was Miller’s girlfriend, but Miller turned me to the side before I could correct that assumption.
“Mary will be sitting over there,” he said and pointed to a huge, plush chair in a back corner. “Get her a caramel macchiato, and leave her alone until I’m back.”
I turned back to look at him. He knew my favorite coffee, which was unexpected, but he’d also placed me in a corner like a small child.
“Mary will gratefully accept the caramel macchiato, and drink it in a chair of her choice. Then Mary might go rock climbing, or take a trip to the moon,” I said, and added, “Or even go completely crazy and stroll along Main Street for a while.” When he looked like he was about to protest, I said sweetly, “But if you text me, I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Miller pulled a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture, and rumbled, “Baby –”
“You have a cat leg to save, and I have coffee to drink. We’re both busy,” I told him calmly, and added with a little acidity, “Baby.”
He grinned at me then, sighed, and leaned down.
“Smartass,” he whispered in my ear, straightened and let the back of his hand slide over my cheek. “Two hours, maybe three. Don’t stray off Main Street and I’ll have someone text you when we’re done.”
“Okay,” I said, although all acidity had left my voice and it sounded breathy.
“Okay,” he echoed and turned to Jack who was grinning widely. “Not a word,” he said, and it sounded like a warning, but I had no clue what he meant.
Jack clearly understood because he started laughing loudly again, and raised his hands.
“Go, fix up Poopy. I’ll watch your girl for you.”
“Jesus,” Miller muttered, glanced at me, and left.
“Poopy?” I asked.
“Mrs. McCullen’s cat. It was supposed to be Poppy, but her niece was in a hurry and misspelled the registration papers.”
I stared at him.
“Luckily, Mrs. McCullen has a well-developed sense of humor,” he added and waved his hand toward the wall. It was filled with photos, and he walked over to pick one of them off the wall. “Here she is… Poopy, that is. Not Mrs. McCullen.”
The cat was beautiful, and I remembered that I’d tossed my sketchpad and pens in my bag.
“Can I borrow this while I drink coffee?” I asked.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “Caramel mac okay, or was lover boy off on that too?”
I laughed at his description of Miller but didn’t correct him. I liked being seen as Miller’s girl, and he hadn’t seemed to mind so I thought it would be harmless to indulge myself and pretend for a little while.
“My favorite coffee,” I said, and added, “And you can’t tell him, but I think he picked the chair I would have chosen myself too.”
Jack chuckled and went to make my coffee. I took it and sat down to draw Poopy-the-cat.
I had just finished it when I heard Jack rumble sourly, “Well, shit. This time I’m gonna kill her.”
“What’s wrong, Jack?” I said as I got up and walked over to him, thinking that a stroll on Main Street would be nice.
“My damned cousin. She wrote the sandwich specials for the month on the board, and then she went off on vacation,” he said, spitting out the word vacation like it was a curse.
I turned to the chalkboard, and there were specials written on it, although it didn’t look very good to me so I could see why he would be upset. The words were written in simple lines, and she’d tried to do some swirls and flowers along the edges, but they mostly looked weird.
“It’s not too bad, I could –”
“They’re wrong,” he stated. “My handwriting is so bad no one can read it, but at least it will be right,” he sighed and walked toward the board with a rag in his hand.
“I can draw it for you,” I offered.
He turned and looked at me, and I thought that he doubted my skills so without a word I raised the sketchpad and turned it to show him Poopy.
“Shit,” he breathed. “Sorry. Wow, I didn’t –”
I grinned at him, and asked, “So, do you want me to dr –”
“You bet,” he cut me off and went behind the counter to get a big box of chalks.
I wiped off the whole board even though he assured me that the “leafy spirals” were okay and if I’d just write the special
s he’d be happy. As I wiped, I looked at the patterns Jack’s cousin had drawn, and the lines were surprisingly clear, but they were squiggly. I could see the faint traces of the gridlines she’d used to help her place the items correctly, and I wondered if she’d copied a sketch or someone else’s design. It looked almost like something a child would have done, I thought, but didn’t say anything and just kept wiping the board clean.
Then I outlined mountains at the bottom and added a few houses, some happy people, birds circling in the sky and proper swirls twining around it. I wrote his sandwiches in clear, straight, letters, and took a step back to look at it.
“Holy cow,” he whispered.
“Not done,” I said and got up on the chair to add small feathers here and there to fill in the gaps.
I had filled in the last feather and leaned back to look at it when I felt two strong hands on my hips.
“Hey,” Miller said as he picked me off the chair and turned me.
“You’re here,” I sighed, and smiled at him.
“Yeah,” he murmured, but his eyes were on the board behind me. “You’ve been busy.”
“Hell yes, and I’m never wiping off that board again,” Jack chimed in.
I turned to him and scrunched up my nose.
“It’ll get iffy, Jack. Just let me know, and I’ll do another one,” I said and then I almost bit my tongue. Why had I said that when I didn’t know if I would go to Norton ever again?
“Wow,” Jack said, but was cut off by Miller.
“I’ll drop her off here next time we’re around, Jack,” he said and grinned down at me, “That way, I’ll know you won’t go traipsing off to the moon… or even Main Street.”
I tried to fake anger but it didn’t work at all, and I giggled stupidly instead. There would be a next time, and there was a we.
“Are you ready to leave?” Miller asked calmly.
“Did you save the cat?” I asked back.
“Yeah. Looks like she’ll be fine,” he said with satisfaction.
I walked over, ripped the drawing of Poopy from my sketch pad and put my things in my bag. Then I handed the photo and the drawing to Jack.
“Thanks,” I said and added hesitantly, “If Mrs. McCullen wants it, she can have the drawing. If not then you can –”