Chapter 21 #3
Miles sets his drink down with an ease I envy, his posture relaxed but alert. “Yes, sir. Been here since I was a kid. Bounced around a little before that. But this town’s home now.”
Dad gives a thoughtful nod. “And you do bull riding full-time?”
“Yep,” Miles answers with a small grin. “Been on the circuit a while. Got a competition in two weeks.”
“Bull riding.” My dad whistles. “That sounds like a quick way to land in a hospital.”
Miles chuckles, taking it in stride. “It’s not exactly a walk in the park, no.”
“But you like it?”
“I love it,” Miles says simply.
I smile at Miles before turning to Riley to make sure she is eating her veggies, but of course, I catch her trying to be cheeky and hide them in her napkin.
“Riley.” I raise an eyebrow and give her the mom look.
She freezes and her cheeks go red as everyone at the table looks at her, trying to keep a straight face.
“You know the rules,” I tell her.
She groans. “No veggies, no ice cream.” Then plops a cherry tomato in her mouth and chews on it.
“Good girl.” I smile. “I’m eating mine too, see?” I bite into a cherry tomato myself.
As she looks around the table, we all show her that we’re all having vegetables too, which encourages her to have more.
“So how long have you and my daughter been…getting to know each other?”
I nearly choke on my tomato thanks to my dad. I grab the fresh lemonade in front of me to wash it down.
Mindy cackles into her drink. Greg’s looking rather serious. Riley, bless her, is entirely focused on picking off the seeds from her burger bun like its brain surgery.
Miles glances my way like he’s trying not to smirk, that stupid grin deepening. “Well…” he says slowly. “We’ve met up a couple of times here and there. We all spent time at my ranch and went to the lake. I’d say a couple of weeks, maybe a month.”
Dad smiles. “The girls were telling me about the day at the lake, seems like you all had a great time.”
Miles nods, swallowing his bite. “It was.”
I shoot him a look. He smirks.
Greg snorts into his drink. Mindy’s watching the exchange like it’s better than TV.
Dad leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “And what exactly are your intentions, Sanchez?” His tone is teasing, but I know that look. That’s his I may be joking but also I will break your kneecaps look.
Miles plays it cool. “Right now? Survive your interrogation and still get to try those sticky sweet ribs you’re cooking up.”
That earns a laugh from everyone, even my dad.
“I’m just teasing,” my dad says with a casual shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to grin.
“You seem like a nice lad. And if my Bean and little Riley enjoy your company, then you’re doing something right.
” He finishes his sentence with a nod before sinking his teeth into his burger.
I glance at Miles, trying not to look too soft or too obvious, but my smile slips out anyway.
And when he catches it, he gives me one back—slow, warm, and a little crooked.
Greg clinks his beer bottle against Mindy’s lemonade and winks, and she practically glows under the attention. Meanwhile, Riley is dramatically explaining to the ketchup bottle that she will not be eating “slimy green burger circles.”
“I can’t believe you let her call pickles that.” Miles leans over to whisper, his voice low.
“Because she’s stubborn and I’ve learned to pick my battles,” I reply with a smirk.
“I like that about her,” he says, watching Riley with a softness in his eyes that damn near melts me. “She’s fierce.”
“She gets it from her mom,” my dad says suddenly, catching us both off guard.
The conversation picks up again—talk of childhood memories, town gossip, and when we’ll all go to the lake and even bring my dad along, but I can feel Miles’s presence beside me like a low hum.
Every now and then, he leans in to murmur something only I can hear. A quiet compliment about how I look tonight. And every single time, my heart races just a little bit faster.
By the time we’re finishing up dinner, the sky is painted in streaks of gold and lavender. Riley’s giggling as she chases bubbles in the grass, Greg and Mindy have somehow ended up on dish duty. Greg doesn’t look too mad about it, and my dad’s relaxing with a beer in his chair, content.
Miles moves closer, his arm brushing against mine.
It’s innocent, barely even a touch but my body reacts like he’s just whispered something filthy in my ear.
A hot thrum pulses low in my belly, curling between my thighs.
It’s not subtle. It’s sharp and real and leaves me with this restless ache I haven’t felt in so long, I almost forgot what it was like to want someone this bad.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about kissing him again. About the heat of his mouth against mine, the way his hands held me like I was something he needed, the way our tongues tangled and everything else around us just…disappeared.
That kiss made me feel alive. Like someone flipped a switch inside me I had turned off.
And now—now, with his arm brushing mine and his scent invading every corner of my brain—I’m struggling to breathe.
God, he smells like sin in denim. That same rugged, warm scent I’ve come to recognize in an instant: sun-warmed leather, a hint of cedar wood, something spicy and masculine that settles low in my lungs like a slow burn. And something else—smoke and salt and heat—something that feels like him.
The kind of scent that buries itself in your pillow, your sheets, your memory. That sticks to your skin and makes you crave more.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, dragging me back to earth. “You okay there?”
I blink, realizing I’d been staring straight ahead like a deer in headlights. I swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
His eyes flick down to my lips, just for a second. Barely there.
But I see it.
And now I’m definitely not fine.
He knows what he’s doing.
“Just making sure, Bambi,” he says before getting up and heading inside.
I let out a breath of relief because I was struggling to hold myself together.