This.
This was what my subconscious had been screaming for. It wasn’t until I was faced with Miller weaving his way through the guests, searching for me, that it hit me like blunt force trauma to my solar plexus. No one met through those stupid apps, or even the guy who lived in my building, could compare with the feeling I had racing through my veins as I studied him.
I smiled, my hand partway above my head to get his attention before I froze, watching as he removed his hat and swiped his arm over his forehead.
His hat?
My feet felt like two cement blocks as I tilted my face and stared, noticing that he was still in his work polo and jeans. Dirty jeans. Dirty jeans and work boots.
What?
A bolt of anger shot through my body, almost crippling me as I grabbed a nearby table to steady my quaking knees.How could he?
I shook my head, pressing a hand to my stomach and turning in the opposite direction from where Miller was searching. Perhaps I could slip out a side door and text him from my car, letting him know hisserviceswere no longer needed.
Shame washed over me, and I dropped my head to my chest as the anger turned to regret. Regret that this man was obsessively searching for me, and my first thought was to sneak out the back because he wasn’t dressed correctly.
“There you are. Are you okay? What happened? Your message was so vague that I didn’t know if I should be worried or not.”
Miller pulled me close, grabbing my upper arms before trailing his fingers over the bare skin. His eyes roamed over my face like he was searching for some unknown injury.
“Emma. Did someone hurt you? Talk to me.”
I tilted my head in confusion, biting my lip and staring at his wild eyes and wondering how he drew such a conclusion from my message. “Hey, you. I’m fine, of course, but this evening has dragged on for long enough. I apologize for making you come all this way for nothing. Walk me out?”
His hand was clammy as I grabbed it, tucking it in the crook of my arm and tugging him toward the exit. This night needed to end.
“What the hell are you talking about? Walk you out? You texted you needed help—that you were in a pickle. What’s going on?”
He stopped, then pivoted, so we were toe to toe. I kept my eyes on a dirt stain above his left pectoral, trying to control my wayward emotions that were somewhere between madness and exhaustion.
“Did you not read the messages? What happened was I needed a date, as the one I had stood me up. But that’s a lost cause. Come on. I want to go home.” I patted his chest and tucked my clutch more securely under my arm.
“You had a date? The one you mentioned last week when our dinner was interrupted, right?”
“Yeah, that one. Not that it made a damn bit of difference since he didn’t show up.”
“I see.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, turning toward the exit and tugging on his arm again in the hopes he’d get the message and get me out of there.
“Nothing, Emma. It means nothing,” he hissed, clenching his teeth as he stared down at me with a deep crease between his brows. I longed to rub my thumb against the mark until it disappeared, but my annoyance with him prevailed, and I sighed, pulling my arm from his.
“Right. Nothing, Miller. Continue to make assumptions and decisions for me, would you? There’s nothing I like better than a man who assumes he knows best.”
“Don’t patronize me, woman, and my apologies for wanting to save myself from pain. Now. I’m here. You’re here. Why don’t we stay?”
He took my hand, squeezing it between his larger one and motioning with his head to the bar. I followed his gaze, swallowing back a groan as I noticed his presence had caused more than a few eyes to turn our way.
“We can get a drink and mingle.”
“Um. No,” I said, shaking my head and stepping farther away before pulling my hand from his and crossing my arms. A hot bath and my fluffy comforter were the only things I wanted tonight. Exhaustion coursed through my body, making my thoughts sluggish and my limbs heavy. My happiness at seeing Miller was overshadowed by his attire and my realization that even though I wanted him here, I didn’tneedhim here.
“I’m grateful, but honestly, did you not read my messages when I said this was a formal event? You do see the cocktail dress and three-inch heels, right? You’re in jeans, and I want to go home. Indulge me, would you?”
“Wait, a second. Are you seriously giving me a hard time because I was more concerned with your welfare than my fucking clothes? Didn’t take you for someone so shallow.”
“That’s not fair,” I whispered, bringing my fingers to his arm and pinching him hard. “How dare you call me shallow when you’re the one who couldn’t bother to read a damn message.”
