“Of course. I’m nothing if not rational.”
“And highly intelligent,” he said, winking.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
He smirked, pulling out my chair and gesturing for me to sit. As I did, putting my napkin on my lap and serving us both chicken, his phone made a high-pitched chirping noise. He took it from his pocket and swiped left before laying it face down on the table and focusing his attention back on me.
The gesture was not lost that he was, once again, showing me that I was a priority. Not answering his phone was such a touching, sweet gesture that my legs were pushing me off my chair to embrace him before my rational mind took over, and I sat down and stabbed a melon ball with my fork.
“You’re welcome, fair maiden,” he said as his phone chirped again.
He sliced through a chicken cutlet with his fork, still ignoring his phone, and moaned around the bite. Between the sluggishness from the wine and the conversation turning heavy, myrationalmind had departed in favor of whispering that I was inexplicitlyhisand then kissing him as if he possessed my next breath.
My borderline lovey-dovey pornographic thoughts were interrupted by another chirp, and this time, Miller snatched the phone, his thumbs flying over the screen.
“I have to go, Em.”
“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, watching as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed before standing and pushing his chair back in.
“I honestly don’t know. It’s something to do with Mom’s neighbor, Cam.”
“Right. Sure,” I said, disappointment rolling off me in waves as I stood, following him to the door. “We never got to talk though, did we?”
I whispered the words, dropping my gaze to the floor. The scent of sweet coffee enveloped me before I felt his hand on the back of my neck, twining into my hair.
“Maybe this is for the best. I don’t think I could bear it if you turn me down.”
“What?” I asked, looking up to see his dark eyes fixed on mine. “Don’t put words into my mouth. When did I give you that impression?”
“Don’t sweat it. Just take the easy out and we’ll forget about this. I’ll text you later.”
He swiftly kissed my forehead and opened the door, letting the evening warmth brush against my already hot skin. I shut the door behind him, barely noticing as Minerva rubbed against my legs. My limbs were heavy,and my palms tingled as I went back to the kitchen and collapsed into the chair, pulling the remainder of the wine and Miller’s unfinished food closer, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chapter 19
Just take the easy out.
How could he think I’d want that after the kiss we shared—a kiss that captured my heart and settled into my soul?
How did things between us end up so upside down?
Perhaps it was my stunned silence as he walked out of my apartment, and his lack of meaningful contact in the days since.
Stop this, silly girl. Focus. You have this farce of a date to focus on, remember?
How could I possibly forget?Tonight was nothing more than a stupid, pointless thing I should have canceled the moment after Miller kissed me. This date with Rhett was a mistake.
Nah. Things were fine. Keep being a scared little chicken-shit, refusing to make the first contact with Miller after that failed dinner. Sure, he texted once or twice, but that hardly counted as conversation, and I answered with as few words as possible—both of us tiptoeing around the elephant in the room.
Since that night last weekend, my heart concluded that what I felt for Miller was not something I could push down or brush off. An internal war raged as I sighed, almost glad Rhett hadn’t bothered to arrive on time.
I should have known something like this would happen when Rhett’s first question was about an open bar, and not the meeting time or attire. Not that I had any objections to copious amounts of alcohol to make the evening more manageable, but my waistline and sanity could not take many more nights drifting between pathetic conversations, bad appetizers, and lackluster pickup lines.
As God is my witness, I’ll never use online dating again!
I scoffed, rolling my eyes and turning away from the entranceway. Cocktail hour was optional,and looking back at our conversation, I never specifically confirmed that Rhett would attend it with me. He still had time to get here—or not.
I clutched the stem of my champagne glass, watching the bubbles rise as my irritation followed the same path as the bubbles—up. My phone remained silent, and as I came to the realization that I’d probably been stood up, a part of me was thankful I wouldn’t have to fake my way through an awful evening with someone I didn’t want beside me.
