Chapter 3
AURORA
Johnny is in a mood today. I bend to pick up another box and place it on the shelf. We were supposed to be adjusting the newly arrived items in their place, but Johnny’s so pissed at his father he’s not doing anything other than complaining about the man.
“And he’s just so cold, you know?” he says, a deep crease between his brows. “He keeps saying he wants to spend more time with me, but we don’t really get along. We have nothing in common. What am I supposed to do with that?”
I arch an eyebrow. “But Johnny, how do you know you got nothing in common if you don’t give him a chance?”
He pulls his upper lip up. “I just know, Aurora. He only thinks of his precious store.” Then he shrugs. “At least there’s money here. He’s got a huge place downtown. Like, a penthouse.”
“Why didn’t you stay with him?” Of course, it’s in my interest to share an Airbnb since it’s cheaper, but it shouldn’t be in Johnny’s interest. “You could spend more time with your dad.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shoots back, picking up his phone. “You don’t know what he’s like.”
And I truly don’t. I chew on my lower lip as I keep putting the boxes up. They’re so heavy I’m pretty sure I’ll get out of here with some muscle. It would be funny. The curvy girl, with flared hips and muscled arms. I smile to myself at the thought.
My thoughts wander back to Mr. Miller. He did seem quite a distant person, but that doesn’t make him evil. His presence still gave me all the butterflies, even when he didn’t acknowledge me all that much. No matter how cold he is, he’s still so handsome it makes me weak in the knees.
My cheeks burn when I catch myself thinking of him. He’s Johnny’s father, for God’s sake. And my boss for the next weeks. I should not be daydreaming of him, not when he could walk in at any moment, not when I could get distracted and...
I raise a box over my head as I complete the thought, but it’s heavy, and my arms are tired, and the box tipples to the side.
A gasp crawls up my throat, but time moves slowly.
I can’t reach out fast enough. My arms don’t work properly as the box moves out of my grasp.
I try to move my feet, try to balance myself to grab it before it hits the ground.
My foot hits another box, and I try to move away from it, just to make a false step.
The pain of a twisted ankle shoots up my leg, making me wince, and I know now I’m both falling and losing the box.
Johnny’s too distracted with his phone. I see him from the corner of my eye as my body moves to the ground.
Then strong arms curl around me, stopping the fall. I reach out, gripping soft fabric, and slam my eyes shut with the near impact. My heart thuds in my throat when I open my eyes again, safely away from the ground.
Mr. Miller holds me against his body, his eyes wide in surprise.
He caught me. I saw him nowhere near us, and even so, he was fast enough to catch me.
I swallow, but my heartbeat goes crazy with his arms around me, the warm skin touching mine.
Shit, he’s so much more handsome this close. Are there specks of gold in his eyes?
His gaze travels down my face and stops on my lips. Nothing reaches my ears but my heartbeat. I curl my fingers on his shirt, wanting to pull him even closer. His lips look like they taste amazing...
He pulls me up to my feet. Pain shoots up from my ankle again and I wince, almost losing my balance once more. Mr. Miller grips my elbows and keeps me against his chest.
“Did you hurt your ankle?” he asks in a low, gruff voice.
“Shit, where did you come from, Dad?” Johnny asks, but he sounds distant in the back of my mind.
I merely nod, pausing my foot an inch from the ground.
Mr. Miller says nothing more as he bends, and he picks me up in a bridal carry that makes me gasp.
My cheeks go up in flames, but he doesn’t pause.
The barrel of a man whirls around and walks out of the storage and into his office.
He sits me down on one of the chairs in front of his desk, turns for a small fridge next to a bookshelf, and comes back to me with an ice bag.
He kneels in front of me. The musky fragrance wafting up to my nose is the most delicious thing I’ve ever smelled. My head grows foggy as he picks up my foot and works the boot off so gently I’m surprised. He’s such a big, gruff man; it’s shocking he’s capable of nimble motions.
Once my foot is free, he presses the ice bag to it.
The tall socks keep the cold from burning my skin, so I settle, watching him.
His huge shoulders bunch in, gentle fingers cradling the back of my foot to bring it up to his knee.
Mr. Miller looks up at me, and his gaze burns, but it also freezes me in place.
I can’t move, can’t breathe when he looks at me like this.
Can he hear my heartbeat? Does he know it beats faster because of him?
I lick my lips, about to ask him something, anything to hear his voice, when footfalls thunder close. Johnny enters the place with arched brows, and he stops right next to me.
“What the fuck happened?”
I chew on my lip for a moment. “Lost my balance and twisted my foot.”
“I could have carried you here.”
Yeah, but you didn’t. I hold back the answer, merely shrugging. Mr. Miller’s eyes connect with mine again, but I look away. This is not the moment for wishful thinking and devouring a man twice my age with my eyes.
Johnny shifts in place. “You can leave that be, Dad,” he says, bending and taking the ice bag from his father.
My brows shoot up. Is he going to take care of me?
He was never the caring person when we were dating; why would he...
Johnny turns to me and offers the bag. “Pretty sure she can do that herself. You don’t need to be overbearing with her, too. ”
My cheeks grow warm again. I take the ice bag from Johnny. And here I thought he wanted to take care of me. Nope, he just wanted to attack his father. I don’t get it. The man might be distant and quiet, but he’s not rude, and he seems to be trying to build bridges with Johnny.
Also, I’d much rather he held my foot like that again.
Mr. Miller crosses and uncrosses his arms. “Very well.” Then he turns and picks up some folders from his desk. “I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t forget to finish up with the boxes, Johnny.” And with one last look in my direction, he leaves.
Johnny scoffs as he takes his father’s chair, propping his feet up and rescuing his phone from his pocket. “At least we get some time off, am I right?” And he goes back to his Tinder, I bet.
I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from cursing him. He used to be an unimpressive boyfriend, but when he reached out for us to be friends again, I thought we might get at least that. I’m starting to think he’s a bad friend, too. He could have let his father help me.
Pressing the ice to my ankle, I let myself daydream about Mr. Miller’s touch. How his fingers brushed the inch of exposed skin between sock and pants. How rough they felt. I let myself picture them up my curves, to my breasts, dragging pleasure out of me.
A sigh escapes my lips, but Johnny doesn’t seem to notice. Good. Because daydreaming about his father is wrong, and he would be pissed. Besides, even if Mr. Miller’s eyes seemed to burn, I can’t believe it’s because of me. If I do, my heart will be in danger.