Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
FRANKIE
At the first glimpse of Miller lying asleep next to Petunia with his hand on her back, my heart blossomed like a blooming sunflower turning toward the light.
This man, who’s only known these animals for a few days, noticed that she was stressed and stayed with her to make her feel better.
And he must have been so exhausted from running around in the storm to get them all inside that he nodded off.
His pants are cold and damp under my touch. Lord knows how long he’s been lying here, but they’re still not dry. He must have been soaked to the bone.
I might have thought I didn’t really know him, that he was a bit of a mystery, that I was letting my gut do the thinking and wasn’t sure if I could trust it.
But this scene in front of me tells me everything I could ever want to know.
It says everything about who he is. This is an act that’s so thoroughly selfless, thoughtful, and caring that emotion gathers in my throat and pricks at my eyes.
It’s also sexy as all hell.
What could be hotter than a man who’s already as attractive, smart, capable and entertaining as Miller? An attractive, smart, capable and entertaining man who’s taking care of a stressed-out donkey, that’s what.
If seeing him lying here on his side, his firm legs outstretched, one arm curled under his head with his bicep for a pillow, hair flattened by the weather, face serene, broad chest rising and falling with relaxed breaths, hadn’t been enough to convince me I’d be a fool to miss out on this brief opportunity to be with him, I don’t know what would.
Oh, actually, yes I do. It’s the way he’s looking at me now, through sleepy eyes that send a heat washing through me that settles between my thighs and radiates to my chest, my fingers, my toes, my every extremity.
Even the two men I’d thought I was in love with—neither of whom was Bastard Brandon, one a college thing, one a guy I met at my first job—didn’t stir the core of me in the same way.
Not with this lure, this yearning that’s so strong it almost hurts.
Like if I found out I could never see him again I’d be a messy wreck of a human, even though I’ve known him for only a week.
Intellectually, I know it’s ridiculous. But try telling that to my soul, which is behaving like it’s found its fated mate.
It’s life’s cruel joke that someone I’ll be around for only a matter of weeks is the first person to make me feel like this.
I pat the solid curve of his calf. “Let’s go back to the house and get you warm and dry.”
“And clean.” He sits up, pointing at his muddy pants and boots.
His voice is low and gravelly and must be what it sounds like when he first wakes up in the morning.
“And clean. Of course.” I smile to myself at his consistent Milleriness.
But regardless of how he never ceases to make me smile, I can’t allow myself to think about what he sounds like when he’s all cozy and warm and naked in bed.
Totally pointless. He might decide Warm Springs isn’t the place for him.
He might choose California—or wherever. And I’m going back to Chicago anyway.
So all these big, illogical feelings need to take a hike.
He reaches for Petunia and runs his hand over her shoulder. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
But then those few words crack my chest right open, sending all the pent-up frustrated butterflies trapped within it fluttering through my body.
“She’s fast asleep,” I whisper. “And the worst of the storm has passed, so yes, I think she’ll be fine.”
He lifts his gaze to the darkness outside the small window above us. “It’s still raining, though.”
“The thunder’s stopped. And that’s all that matters.”
He turns back to me. “How did you know it was bad?”
Slowly, he reaches up and, with just the very tip of his little finger, he does that thing he’s done before—something so simple and yet such a turn-on—he lifts the bedraggled strand of hair that’s fallen across my face and eases it behind my ear.
The back of his finger teases my cheek en route, sending a shiver that could evaporate all the rain right off me straight to my core.
And that completely irrational fated mates feeling drowns out every atom of my logic.
But how could this ever play out into being something?
It couldn’t.
Either I’d have to get a new job wherever he decides he wants to settle, or he’d have to move to Chicago, which seems very unlikely since he’s obviously seeking a better quality of life, not to just move from one city to another.
Fuck. What’s wrong with me that I’m thinking about where I might settle down with a man I’ve known for only seven days?
“My flight was delayed by an hour because of the weather.” I get to my feet.
At least that puts a bit of distance between us.
“And when I looked up the local forecast, it said there was a ninety percent chance of thunderstorms. I texted you to let you know Petunia would be frightened, but you must have already been out here by then. When I stopped in at the house I saw your phone on the kitchen table.”
He rubs his eyes and pushes his fingers through his own still-damp hair. “So you were worried that the house was empty and came out here to look for me?”
“Technically, I came to check on Petunia. I would have worried about you later.” He thrusts out his bottom lip in a pout so sexy it’s all I can do not to slam my lips against it. “But I’m glad I found you too.”
I offer him my hand as a help up.
“Thanks, but I’m too dirty to touch.” Realizing what he’s said, he wiggles his eyebrows.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” And I bet all their lady bits do the same dance mine are doing.
“Only the ones who don’t mind getting dirty, too.”
“Well, let’s go inside and you can undirty yourself.”
Dammit, what’s wrong with me? I know I have to stop this pointless flirting. But then this man somehow reduces every ounce of willpower I have to a puddle of goo with one flick of an eyebrow.
He gets up and turns to grab his jacket, giving me a rear view that makes me burst out laughing.
“What?” he says, looking over his shoulder.
“The entire back of your pants is solid mud.”
“Only partially correct.” He puts his jacket on and remains facing away from me so I can see that it also has a thick brown coating. “The entire back of all of me is solid mud.”
“You fell?”
“Nope, not at all.” He turns to face me, doing up his jacket.
“I didn’t have much to do, was kind of bored of being inside in the dry and the warm.
So I thought, you know what, since there was a violent thunderstorm with more rain falling in the space of five minutes than the has seen in a decade, I’ll wander outside and lie down for a minute in a donkey field. ”
My hand’s over my mouth, trying to hold in every instinct to let out a roaring guffaw. As self-deprecating as he is, it would be ungrateful to mock him. Particularly since he’s taken care of everything here for me for the last two days and isn’t even being paid.
“And while I was getting up from my little mud spa experience”—he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows—“Doris decided it was time for a belly rub.”
That’s it. It’s too much. I can’t hold it in. I double over, hands on my knees. “Oh, she didn’t.”
“Oh, she did. Totally tried to stand over me. Had to push her off. But at least she followed me inside. Up to that point I thought I was going to have to tie her to the tractor and drag her in.”
My inhale shakes with laughter as I straighten. “She is probably the most stubborn one.”
“All the others had gone in out of the rain by themselves, but she was out there with Waldo and Dave, like three idiots.”
“They didn’t come in when you banged the lid with the spoon?”
He stares at me in silence for a second. “Shit.” His eyelids slowly lower. “I forgot about that. I was so panicked about getting them inside because I’d read that their coats absorb water and getting soaked can give them pneumonia.”
Just when I thought this man had already maxed out on how hard he could tug at my heartstrings this evening, those words give them a giant twang.
“You read that?” I ask. “Like, you did donkey research?”
“To be honest, I had my assistant do the research and send me notes. But I did read them.” He rubs the side of his neck like it’s achy. “But I’m an idiot for forgetting there’s an easier way to get them inside than yelling and flapping my arms.”
I should resist him. There is no way we could ever be a real thing in the real world. But in this otherworldly place that is the sanctuary, his magnetic tug on my chest is so strong, I step close enough to touch the wet arm of his jacket.
“It doesn’t matter how you did it. You did it. And that’s all that counts.”
I squeeze his strong forearm before letting my hand drop.
We fall silent for a moment and gaze at the animals in various states of rest and relaxation around us.
“They’re a pretty damn cute bunch,” Miller says.
“They crawl into your heart even if you don’t want them to.”
His eyes land on mine and make my brain go all tingly. “They’re not the only ones,” he says.
So embarrassed by the compliment that I don’t know what to do with myself, I just wrap my wool coat tighter.
“But I need a shower now, please.” His humor shatters the tension.
“Of course, yes. Let’s go inside.”
I head toward the door, wondering if maybe this place isn’t a sanctuary for only the donkeys. Maybe it’s a sanctuary for me too.
And the man who Paige was absolutely right about—the man who I’d be crazy to turn down while I have the chance—follows me.