Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FRANKIE
Miller smells different. Not totally different.
The deep-down scent of his skin, the aroma of him, is still the same.
But I’d only ever known it combined with a hint of my lavender-and-vanilla body wash before.
Now his top notes are more musky, with a sprinkle of citrus.
It’s like inhaling a new version of him, with the original him still underneath.
A cocoon of affectionate sighs from the people staying to catch the final act of this unexpected show wraps around us.
In the four days since I made Miller leave, I’ve checked over my shoulder a thousand times, thinking—hoping, I guess—that he’d show up.
But I never thought he would.
I mean, why would he, after I virtually told him I hated him?
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to chase after him after everything he’d done.
But as the hours and days ticked by, I thought more and more about what Paige said. That maybe Miller’s judgment was clouded by his all-consuming need to fight to stand up for his family, and that being here, being with me, opened his eyes to how he was really behaving.
The banner renaming the old Windwood barn after Grandma, and the fact he’s restoring it to its former glory, was the hammer that knocked down the final wall of my defenses. He didn’t have to do that. He did it because of who he really is.
I sure as hell still wasn’t going to go after him, though.
If anything was going to happen here, he needed to come to me.
And, boy oh boy, has he come to me.
Here he is, arms wrapped all the way around me, smelling delicious, and whispering, “I love you,” in my ear.
My whole body softens into him, finally feeling like I can actually let myself go, believe in someone, believe in myself, believe in the future that’s slowly emerging from the fog before my eyes.
It’s like a sense of calm has enveloped me.
But while I’m shrouded in a protective layer of peace, my insides are buzzing with excitement and joy and hope and desire, because, oh dear God, I want to get this man’s clothes off.
Is that what love is? This combination of peace, security, desire and a feeling that you can be yourself?
Miller moves his mouth from my ear toward my lips, and everyone around us disappears, fades away into a hazy background as he kisses me lightly enough to be decent in front of people, but firm enough to feel like a promise.
Highly indecent sensations immediately ravage my body, my nipples tightening, panties getting damp, and knees wobbling.
I’m so overcome, it takes a second before I’m aware of a hubbub in the crowd.
Miller lifts his mouth from mine, and we both look toward the audience, most of whom are now standing and facing away from us, some holding their phones high over their heads to film or take pictures. There are gasps and ooohs, a certain degree of giggling, and the occasional little squeal.
“What’s going on?” Miller asks, his arms still around me.
“No idea.” I’ve definitely not planned anything to happen about now.
The two high-schoolers I’ve hired to capture social media content come belting into the back of the barn breathless, phones raised.
The crowd slowly turns as one, clearly following the path of someone walking around the outside of the seats and heading toward us.
“What the—” I dig my fingers so hard into Miller’s shoulder that he flinches. “Is that—”
“Oh, yes,” he says with a bright laugh. “That is Prince Oliver. And let me guess who might be behind him.”
Holy shit. Following the Prince are Leo Johanssen from Lions’ Den, and oh my God, knock me dead and bury me in a bucket right now, Chase freaking Cooper.
“Is that really…” I’m unable to form any more words.
“Yup. It’s them too.” Miller slides his arms down my back as the men approach, sneaking in a stroke of my butt on the way.
“What’s going on?” I ask, along with everyone in the crowd.
“Hi, folks,” Prince Oliver says, striding right up to me and offering his hand. “I’m Oliver, and I guess we’re a bit late.”
“Late?” While I shake his hand, my brain hops around like a rabbit on crack, wondering if I should bow or curtsy or say Your Highness or…
Jesus, what the hell do you do when an actual prince walks into the barn on your donkey sanctuary where your grandpa’s just given a talk on the history of the property to a crowd of locals in the hope we can raise enough money to keep the place going?
“Yeah.” Prince Oliver beams from ear to ear and slaps Miller on the shoulder. “But it looks like this chap did okay on his own after all.”
“You mean you guys are here to help me out?” Miller asks all three of them.
“Yup,” Chase Cooper says. Chase freaking Cooper. “Ol was worried you might need some character references.”
Ol? They call him Ol?
My brain might as well be pea soup in a blender. Turned to full power. And without the lid on.
“Of course I was.” Prince Oliver puts his arm around Miller’s shoulders and turns him so they’re standing side-by-side facing me.
“We heard our friend here created a bit of a bad first impression,” the only member of a royal family to ever set foot in this barn says to me. “So we thought we’d come to let you know that he really doesn’t make a habit of going around impersonating farmhands to seduce women.”
I don’t know how to turn off the blender.
“You guys are…friends?” I manage.
“Yeah,” Miller says. “We own a soccer team.”
“Oh, shit. Yes.” And now I remember Paige telling me that, when I was so filled with anger I was barely absorbing what she was saying.
But even if that fact hadn’t fallen out of my head amid all my hurt over everything that’s happened, combined with the frantic preparations for today and the stress over whether it would be a success, it would never have occurred to me that they might be actual close pals.
Certainly not charging-over-here-to-convince-me-he’s-a-good-person close, at any rate.
“Too right we own a soccer team,” Prince Oliver says. “The bloody Boston Commoners.”
“They were shit,” Leo says. “But now they’re good.” He checks his watch. “We’re not needed here, right? So we’re done?”
Miller steps away from Prince Oliver and casually takes my hand, like we’ve been together for about ten years and this is just how we stand.
And it does feel like he’s been by my side forever. But it also feels like the new and exciting thing that it is. Either way, it definitely makes my belly go all warm and fluttery.
I wrap my other hand over the top of his and lean against him to steady myself.
“Sorry,” I stammer to the three men standing in front of me. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just a bit shocked and trying to process how come you’re here. Are you saying you knew Miller was coming to talk to me, and you followed him to be his character witnesses?”
“Pretty much,” Chase Cooper says. Seriously.
Chase freaking Cooper. And he really looks exactly as he does in the movies.
“Miller told us he was on his way here. And it didn’t take long to figure out there’s only one donkey sanctuary in Warm Springs.
So we hit the road because we weren’t sure you’d believe him. ”
“But we thought you might believe us.” Prince Oliver gestures to all three of them.
“Didn’t think I’d believe what?” I ask.
“That he’s not a lying liarson who lies all the time,” Oliver says.
“I know he lost his mind over the whole revenge on the arsehole who virtually left them homeless when he was a kid thing. And that’s what made him do the whole pretending to be someone else so you’d sell the land to him thing.
But that’s really not something he’d usually do. ”
“Yeah,” Chase says. “He’s usually a complete asshole.”
The crowd, which I’d forgotten was still here, dissolves into laughter as Oliver holds his hand up for a high five and Chase slaps it.
“Oh, I knew he was made of good things the night he slept with Petunia,” I say to reassure these men who’ve gone to quite some extreme lengths to stick up for their friend.
“I beg your pardon?” Leo’s face darts up from his phone.
“She’s super nervy,” I explain. “And there was a thunderstorm, and she was terrified and shaking. So Miller petted her. And sang to her. And fell asleep with her.”
The three of them look from me to Miller, deep concern etched on all their faces.
“Petunia is a donkey,” Miller clarifies.
“Oh,” they all say with sighs of relief.
“Never had you down as a sleeping-with-a-donkey kind of guy,” Chase says.
“Neither did I.” Miller drops a kiss on my forehead. “Turns out I didn’t really know what kind of guy I was till a few days ago.”
“Anyway, the long and the short of it is that Oliver made us come here,” Leo says, going back to flicking through his phone.
“Thanks, pal.” Miller pats the prince on the shoulder.
And apparently I’m already used to not only having a boyfriend, but a boyfriend who’s best buds with three world-famous people who’re standing in my barn while a bunch of visitors hang around taking pictures of them.
“And now I’m starving,” Leo continues, “because it meant we had to cancel lunch. And Oliver was so worried about getting here quickly that he wouldn’t stop to pick up food.”
“Oo.” I pull away slightly from Miller. “I’ll go get you some pastries and coffees.”
“Hold on,” Miller says. “No point in these guys coming all the way up here for nothing.”
He turns to the crowd, rubbing his hands together with purpose.
“Okay, folks.” His voice is raised to reach the back.
“Let’s get everyone outside enjoying the fun.
And there’s a new attraction. Have your photo taken with a donkey and one of my three friends here.
For a donation, of course. They’ll also sign anything you want for another donation. ”
Leo glares at Miller. “Will I have to touch them?” he mutters.
“The people or the donkeys?” Miller’s comment gets a laugh from the people at the front who’re close enough to hear.
“I promise you,” Miller continues. “You’ll get used to them quicker than you think.”
Oh my God, pictures of the donkeys with Prince Oliver, Chase Cooper and Leo Johanssen? They’ll blow up our social media.
That will definitely give me something good to talk about in my interview for VP of digital marketing when I get back home.
Oh.
The VP job.
And Chicago being “home.”
Those two things suddenly feel utterly meaningless.
And so utterly not me.