Locking the front door behind me, I turn towards the road when I hear the familiar sound of hoofbeats. I can just make out the silhouette of a man riding towards the cabin driveway. As the horse gets closer, I can make out the unmistakable backwards baseball cap, the broad shoulders, the sparks igniting in my heart every time he’s around.
Miles is riding towards the cabin on horseback.
Why is Miles here? And why does he ride a horse everywhere he goes? I know he lives on a ranch, but does the man ever just drive anywhere?
He dismounts Claro easily, throwing the reins around the fence post without even looking. His eyes remain on me the entire time. It’s intimidating enough it shouldn’t be hot, but somehow it is.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out. He stalks towards me, stopping just a few steps shy of where I stand on the wide oak porch. Now that he’s closer, I can see the fire in his deep brown eyes in the blue glow of the twilight.
He adjusts his cowboy hat as he walks towards me, giving me a flash of his hair poking out of the back. His gaze meets mine again as he stops a few feet away and I already feel lightheaded under the weight of his full attention. Unable to hold his gaze, my eyes fall down to where his t-shirt sleeves tighten against his tanned biceps. The butterflies instantly return.
Oh my god, is there nowhere I can look without sending myself into a spiral?
“I saw you leave, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to miss the fireworks. The guys almost have them ready to go. Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His concern surprises me. I thought he’d want nothing to do with me after the other night. He certainly didn’t then.
“I’m fine. I thought I saw a light on in the cabin, but it turns out it was nothing. My eyes playing tricks on me or something. I was just heading back up to the barn,” I say.
His chest sags with a sigh of relief, his hands propped up on his hips. Miles’s usual conversation stance. It’s almost as if he has to brace himself to interact with anyone. “Okay, good. You left in such a hurry I thought maybe something was wrong.”
“No, I’m good,” I assure him, fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
“Good. That’s good.”
“Okay well–” I start.
“I just wanted to–” he says at the same time.
An awkward, dry laugh bubbles up my throat. “You go,” I gesture for him to continue.
“Alright. I just wanted to talk about the other night…” He says, trailing off. A spark of something flits across his face. Shyness? It can’t be.
“Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t really thinking straight,” I rush out. The last thing I need is another rejection from Miles. The other night was more than enough. I’d rather give him an easy out and just skip this conversation altogether.
A boom rattles the air from behind us, then a flash of red light. The fireworks have started. Hopefully the guys have enough so we don’t miss the entire show. It sure looked like they did in that crate.
The red light illuminates the right side of his face, casting him in a slight glow. Dark stubble already coats his jaw. My fingers itch with the need to reach out and touch it.
“Yeah you were pretty drunk. I didn’t realize you were still such a party girl,” Miles says. I grimace at his harsh words.
Boom. Boom.More fireworks go off in flashes of blue and green.
“What’s that supposed to mean?Still? You don’t know what kind of person I am, Autry. Just because we hooked up one night four years ago doesn’t mean you get to judge me,” I snap. Red rushes to my cheeks as the anger spills over.
Boom.
This man has a power over my emotions I desperately wish he didn’t have. I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me. It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m some party girl. But for some reason, it hurts more than it should. I’m used to people thinking that of me. I like to have fun, I’m pretty spontaneous, I go on a lot of dates.
But I’m not dumb. I work hard, and I’m good at my job. I’m a great friend. I’m sick of having to defend myself to people in my life, especially my own family, when I want to let loose and have fun every once in a while.
It seems like no matter how much work I do, how many nights I stay in reading a book or starting a new project, people only remember all of the other stuff. I’ll forever be a one night stand type of girl to Miles, and he will always think that’s a bad thing.
“I’m not judging you, that’s not what I meant–” he starts in a fluster, his dark eyes wild.
Boom.
“I don’t care what you meant. I get that you hate me, okay? You’ve made that abundantly clear. No one is forcing you to be around me. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, you’re not obligated to be around me. I thought we could be friends, but clearly I was wrong. That’ll never happen.” My hands are shaking with either anger, embarrassment, disappointment or a mix of all three.
Boom. Boom. Boom.Miles’s face lights up red and orange in the light of the fireworks.
