Forever Wilde in Aster Valley (Forever Wilde 9)

Miller nodded. “It’s overwhelming. I’m an only child, and so was my mom. But then we found her biological family and… it’s like…” He let out a soft laugh. “Enormous. And truly… unbelievable. They’re wonderful, and very welcoming. But I’m not used to being around so many people all the time, especially people who are trying so hard to include me in everything. And… well… my mom died earlier this year, so it’s… weird.”

I wanted to pull him into a big bear hug, but that sounded like the opposite of what he wanted. And since he didn’t know me from Adam, it would have been completely inappropriate anyway. The vulnerability in his eyes gave me the impression that he didn’t share much about himself, especially his burdens, easily. So, how could I help ease his burden another way?

“I’m so sorry about your mom. What an amazing gift she gave you before leaving, huh? A big nosy family. A blessing and a curse, if you ask me.” I tried to keep things light to ease his burden rather than asking him to expose his heart to a stranger. “First of all, the trick with a big family of busybodies is to dish their shit right back. They hassle you? Hassle them right back. Stand up for yourself and claim your space. They’ll respect you for it.”

“I’m not exactly the hassling type,” Miller said with a sweet smile.

I grinned right back. I couldn’t help it. “No, I don’t imagine you are. What you need, then, are some activities that keep everyone busy. Idle chitchat while you’re doing something else is much easier to handle than sitting around being interrogated by well-meaning family members.”

“We’re going Christmas tree shopping today,” he said. “Apparently there’s a Christmas tree farm nearby.”

I nodded. “I haven’t been out there yet, but I’ve heard great things about it. It’s on a ranch, and the rancher offers horse-drawn sleigh rides, too. Are there any little kids in your group?”

“A few. They’d love that. Heck, I’d love that. Thanks.”

“There’s also the ice rink over in Steamboat. And you can ask Mikey to be sure, but I think they have the main ski lift running now even though the slopes aren’t open yet. There’s a log road you can hike down. And if your crew is more into doing stuff indoors, there’s a great used bookshop down the street that has a board game room in the back. What else?” I tried to think, which was hard to do with Miller’s big eyes staring up at me in something like wonder.

He reached out tentatively to brush a clump of flour off my apron, but his fingers rested over my pec for a second longer than strictly necessary. Time seemed to stand still for a beat. I clenched my hand against the desire to grab his and pull him into an embrace.

“And, uh…” I continued, trying to focus on anything other than the brush of his masculine hand over my chest. “Art galleries? There’s a paint your own pottery place next to the library. I haven’t tried it yet, but… but I’ve been meaning to. And, um…”

My phone beeped in my pocket. I fumbled to pull it out and noticed a text from Hannah asking for help packing up another large catering order.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I need to get back in there, but… will you promise to come back and let me know what you think? About the pastries, I mean?” I realized too late I was just another person putting pressure on him. “Or not. Whatever makes you happiest. Have fun, okay?”

His face was flushed pink from the cold, and his sad eyes were a little brighter. He was stunning.

“Thank you…” he said, lingering as if trying to recall my name. I realized I’d never given it to him.

“Darius,” I said. “Darius Grant. It’s nice to meet you, Miller.”

His smile was radiant. “You too.”

When I returned to the bakery, I jumped right back into work. We were slammed with holiday and catering orders like the one from Rockley Lodge, which meant Hannah and I didn’t stop moving until we closed at three. Instead of jumping right into prep for the next morning’s baking, I went to the gym in time to join a kickboxing class. It was just what I needed to work out the jittery feeling I’d had all day.

On my way home, I got a call from my mom.

She always opened with the same line. “Why are you avoiding my calls?”

It felt good to laugh.

“Because you deliberately call me in the morning when you know that’s the busiest time for me. And we both know you do it on purpose so you can leave a voicemail and get credit for the call.”

“That’s my lunch break at work,” she said with fake indignation. “My boss is very strict with personal phone calls, as you know.”