Miller's Time (Southern Charmers 2)

It’s her turn to giggle. “Only my daughter could make one of the swiftest moves in history and get excited about living in squalor.”

“I’m hardly living in squalor.”

“Give me the tour. Show me what’s new.”

I switch to FaceTime and walk her through the house, beginning with the upstairs. I’ve kept her up to date on what’s happening, but it’s been a week since I’ve shown her the progress. She chats along, visualizing the outcome with me.

On the way downstairs, I scan the aerial view, explaining the wall coming down next week. The phone pans the front entryway, and it doesn’t register that Miller’s leaning against the inside frame, watching me with a grin. Too wrapped up in my conversation, I don’t think twice, giving him a short wave and continuing throughout the main floor.

When I’m done, Mom has gone unusually quiet, her commentary stopping.

“That’s the progress this week. Something else, right?”

“Something else indeed… That’s exactly how I’d put it.” Her eyes are gleaming, her smile wide, and her expression loaded with humor.

“What is so entertaining?”

“Who’s the hunk at the front door?”

Realization washes over me, and I squeak at the same time Miller can be heard laughing. “That’s my contractor. He’s probably stopping by to drop off something.”

“That’s the contractor? Now I can imagine why you were excited about the porch being ripped out. Mmhmm, oh yeah.”

“Mom!” I juggle the phone, trying to lower the audio before she says something else embarrassing.

Not my luck.

“No wonder you were too preoccupied to call me back last night.”

“Stop talking!”

I tap the button over and over but don’t get it switched before Miller is behind me, stepping in close.

“Hi, Mrs. Rhodes.” His voice is smooth, the scent of his cologne washing over me and setting my pulse on overdrive. Especially when my mom’s eyes pop out at a close-up of him.

“I wish we’d have done this tour on my iPad so I’d have a bigger screen.”

My face flames, and I drop my arm so the phone is facing the concrete flooring.

“I much prefer the view up there than the floor, Ashlyn,” she scolds through the line.

“Mom, I need to go. I’ll call you later.”

“No need to rush. Things just got interesting.”

“Bye, love you.” I disconnect and close my eyes, not wanting to face him.

“She was right. There was no need to rush off the phone on my account.” He’s so close his breath tickles the side of my neck.

“You have no idea what you did.” Twisting to face him is a mistake because now our bodies are pressed together.

“I said hello to your mother. Is that a crime?”

“Yes! That was anything but a normal hello. That was a Miller Kendrick, smooth-talking, sexy-looking, deep-throated greeting. Not to mention, it’s Saturday, and she’s not buying my excuse that you’re dropping something off. Right now, her imagination is going wild, and I will have to endure an inquisition.”

His blue eyes dance, brightening with each passing second. My knees go weak, and I hope like hell I don’t melt under his gaze.

“There is a lot there, Princess, but let’s start with the fact that you think I deep-throat my words.”

Oh my God, did I say that? My heart races, and I can’t hold his stare. “You know what I mean.”

“Actually, that’s a new one for me. In my book, the term deep-throating has a whole different meaning.”

That does it. I can’t handle the embarrassment and drop my head to his chest. “Can we forget it?”

“I’m a man, baby, and when the term deep-throating comes out of a mouth as sexy as yours, my mind goes places. Especially knowing what your mouth is capable of.”

“That’s it! Date is off. We can’t do this.”

One arm goes around my waist, holding me steady, while his other hand cups the side of my face, nudging it upwards. “Our date is only beginning.”

He sweeps his lips across mine gently as I realize that I am the one that labeled this. He never used those words before now, which means I am at fault. Dammit!

“You look beautiful,” he says softly, kissing from corner to corner.

It takes all the willpower in my body to not throw myself around him and recreate the kiss from yesterday. As if he senses my dilemma, he breaks away and gives me a little space.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be without knowing where we’re going.”

He takes my hand, still grinning, and leads me to my room, handing me my purse from the side table.

“Thanks.” I drop my phone in the bag and glance up to find him smirking.

“How bad did those words burn?”

“Barely a singe.” I bite my lip to keep from grinning.

“Told you it would get easier.”

“Don’t be smug.”

He bends down again, but I sway to avoid him. “You have to stop. No more kissing.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I said so.”