Chapter 28
Vivian
The soft morning light spills across the living room floor like warm honey. I slowly blink awake, confused by the unfamiliar weight behind me…until I feel it.
A strong arm draped across my waist. A firm chest pressed against my back. And the steady rise and fall of someone’s breathing.
Miles.
My breath catches.
We’re still fully dressed, thank god, but that doesn’t change the fact that I fell asleep on the couch with him. Wrapped up in his big arms.
I shift slightly, and his arm tightens around me for a moment before going slack. He doesn’t wake. His face is soft in sleep, jaw relaxed, lashes resting against his cheek. That boyish vulnerability tugs at something inside me.
We watched The Proposal, then How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days came on, and somewhere in between his arm pulling me closer and my head resting on his chest, I passed out. Completely.
A buzzing on the coffee table jolts me back to reality.
My phone.
Greg: 3 missed calls.
Greg: Viv, where are you?
I carefully lift Miles’s arm and slip out from under it. His brow twitches but he doesn’t stir. Quietly, I grab my phone and tiptoe to the kitchen, firing off a rushed reply.
Vivian: Sorry! Overslept. On my way now!
I glance at the clock. 9:32 a.m.
Shit.
Then…three knocks at the door.
I freeze, then bolt to open it.
Mindy stands there, coffee in hand and an arched brow that could win awards.
“Well, well, well, I’ve been in my car for almost an hour!” she says then brushes passed me and into the living room when she holts. “Should I come back later or…” She’s eyeing me and Miles.
I glare. “Shut up.”
She steps inside anyway, handing me the coffee. “I can come back in ten. Give you time to crawl back into his arms.”
I groan.
“I mean it. You’re a lifesaver. Just, please, don’t look too smug while you’re saving me.”
“No promises.”
She glances toward the sofa, where Miles is now stretching with a yawn and blinking awake.
“Oh, hey, Cowboy,” she says with a wink. “Sleep okay?”
Miles rubs his eyes, his voice still raspy. “Better than okay.”
I down half the coffee in one gulp, grab the stair rail, and say over my shoulder. “If you need me, I’ll be upstairs trying to pull myself together before Greg kills me.”
“Take your time,” Mindy calls sweetly. “I’ll keep him company.”
I give her the finger as I head upstairs.
But I’m smiling as I take the stairs two at a time. I toss my phone on the bed and rush to the bathroom like my life depends on it.
To be fair, it kind of does.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to shake the flush that’s still clinging to my cheeks. My reflection stares back—eyes puffy from sleep, hair an absolute mess, a little bit of mascara under my eyes.
A breath escapes me as I brush my teeth in record time, pulling my hair into a messy bun with one hand while I rinse with the other.
There’s no time for a full outfit crisis.
I yank open my dresser, grab a pair of black jeans and a blouse I hope doesn’t smell like last week’s chaos, and shimmy into them like a woman possessed.
I hurry downstairs and hear Mindy tormenting Miles with questions like, “So cuddling now, are we?”
Shoving my feet into boots and grabbing my bag. “Okay, I’m ready,” I call out as I round the corner, brushing past the kitchen.
Miles and Mindy both look up from the couch as I rush back into the living room. Mindy’s already made herself at home—feet kicked up on my coffee table like she pays rent, a mug of coffee in one hand, and a smug smile on her face.
Miles is sitting next to her, holding his own mug, looking entirely too comfortable in my living room. There’s a third takeaway cup on the table—mine. Steam still curling from the top like it’s been waiting for me.
I raise an eyebrow and glance at him. “You made me coffee?”
He sips casually, like it’s no big deal. “Would’ve been rude not to.”
Mindy lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head like she’s personally offended by the sweetness of it all.
I roll my eyes and nudge her feet off the table. “Seriously?” I mutter, pointing at her with mock sternness before grabbing the coffee. It smells divine, and I hate how much I want to melt into the moment. But I don’t have time to bask in it-not when I’m already late.
I check my phone and nearly choke. “Shit. Okay, I’ve got to go! Bye!” I grab my keys and my bag, shooting Mindy a grateful look. “You’re the best, Min. Lifesaver. Literally.”
I’m halfway to the door when Miles stands, mug still in hand. “I’ll drive you.”
I pause, hand on the doorknob, and give him a look. “Do you want Greg to spontaneously combust? Because that’s how we get Greg to combust.”
He chuckles, but doesn’t argue.
I swing the door open, head out, and slide into my car. I turn the key.
Nothing.
I try again. Dead.
“Oh, come on,” I groan, banging my forehead gently on the steering wheel. “Not today. Not now.”
This is karma. It has to be. For letting Miles stay over. For falling asleep next to him on the sofa. For enjoying it way more than I should’ve in a house where I once built a life with someone else.
Before I can spiral further, there’s a knock on my window. Miles.
He leans down, voice soft but insistent through the glass. “Come on, Viv. Let me take you.”
I hesitate. Just for a second.
Then I pop the door open and slide out with a sigh. “Okay, fine. Thank you”
He grins—the kind that makes my stomach flip—and opens the passenger door for me like a damn gentleman.
I hate how much I love it.
I don’t have another option—and there’s no way in hell I’m driving Mindy’s lemon-yellow Volkswagen Beetle.
She’d lecture me about everything: how to adjust the seat, when to shift, how the A/C’s “temperamental,” and that I “shouldn’t brake too hard or the glove box will pop open. ” No thanks. No time for that.
So now I’m in Miles’s truck, freshly caffeinated, flustered, and very aware of the fact that I’m wearing a barely-there bun and yesterday’s mascara.
He opens the passenger door for me like some country rom-com dream and helps me in with a hand at my waist like it’s second nature. It sends a jolt straight through me.
Once he’s in and starts the truck, he glances over with that cocky glint in his eye. “You know…you could’ve just said yes the first time.”
“Well, I didn’t think my car would let me down today.”
He chuckles, eyes on the road now, one hand draped over the wheel, the other casually resting on the gearshift. His fingers drum against it.
“Do you want to stop for anything?” he asks, completely nonchalant. “A cold shower, perhaps?”
I glance at him, narrowing my eyes. “Did you just suggest I need a cold shower?”
He smirks. “Just saying, you were the one giving me flirty eyes in a towel, Bambi. Not complaining.”
“God, you’re annoying,” I say, nudging his arm but he doesn’t budge, kind of like a brick wall.
He laughs. “And yet…here you are.”
I roll my eyes and stare out the window, praying for red lights to be kind and not give him more time to tease me, but I can see him beside me gripping the steering wheel, eyes glancing at me again.
It does something to me.
My heart’s doing something uncoordinated and traitorous again. And I’m afraid if I speak, it’ll come tumbling out before I’m ready.
Instead, I smile, and wonder how the hell did we get here.
* * *
After eight long hours, most of which were spent listening to Greg ramble while pretending he wasn’t secretly thrilled to talk about Mindy, I’m finally closing up. The bar is quiet now—just me, the soft buzz of the cooler, and the low hum of closing time.
Greg had taken care of most of the restocking, but I double-check everything anyway.
Talking with Greg didn’t feel like work today.
That’s the thing about him—underneath all the protective older-brother energy, he means well.
He asked about Mindy. Not the dramatic version, just curious.
I told him the truth, or at least my version of it.
The Mindy I first met wasn’t the woman she is now.
She’s stronger. Wilder. And after what she’s been through, it’s a miracle she still lets herself laugh like that.
The sound of tires crunching gravel pulls me to the front window.
Miles.
His red truck slows to a stop in front of the entrance, and there he is, leaning against the driver’s side door like he was born to wait for trouble in the form of a woman. Arms crossed, expression relaxed, he’s a little too good at looking like sin wrapped in patience.
I lock up and step outside. The moment our eyes meet the ache I’ve been ignoring all day flickers to life.
“Hey, Miles,” I say softly.
He pulls me into a hug without hesitation, his arms wrapping around me like they belong there. “Hey, beautiful.”
My head rests against his chest. He smells good, aromatic vanilla mixed with a hint of tobacco.
When I pull away, there’s that look in his eyes again. That look that says he sees through me without even trying.
“Thanks for picking me up.”
“Anything for you, Bambi.”
Inside the truck, “Every Breath You Take” by The Police is already playing. It’s one of my favorite songs.
“You always play this kind of music when I get in your car?”
He gives me a knowing look. “You say that like you’re surprised I have taste.”
“I’m just saying…it’s good taste,” I murmur, smiling as I turn the volume up slightly.
The world outside blurs into soft light and quiet streets. Stars scatter across the sky like confetti, and for a second, it feels like we’re the only two people in it.
The lyrics echo in my head as I watch him.
He glances at me, and something clicks. The pull is too strong, too inevitable.
My breathing increases rapidly.
When we stop at a red light, he looks at me, and suddenly my lips are on his.
His hand tangles in my hair, my fingers pressing against his chest, trying to keep myself grounded. Our kiss is fevered and hot, like a match to gasoline.
“Pull over,” I breathe, lips brushing his jaw.