Miller's Time (Southern Charmers 2)

I bolt up, my heart racing and gut turning in sync. Throwing the sheets to the side, I run my hands through my hair, trying to calm down. This is not the first time memories of that weekend have plagued my dreams, but it is the first time it’s ended this way. Usually, it ends with me carrying her to the shower or one of the many other ways we spent our time together.

But this morning, it’s that damn phone ringing that interrupted. What was it about that call? She refused to answer, silencing her phone for the rest of our weekend. It didn’t bother me at the time because she used her power of seduction to sway my attention.

Why now? Why did it pop into my head this morning? The answers slam into me.

“You’re too good for me.” Her words and admissions in my kitchen reel through my mind. Whatever happened to her has seriously fucked with her head. Her gorgeous green eyes swelling with tears awakened my protective instincts. It took all my control not to pick her up, take her to bed, and prove to her the woman I met in Chicago still existed.

My cock jerks, dragging my attention down to see the confusion of the dream did nothing to my raging hard-on.

“Jesus, I need to get laid.” The words echo through my dark room, sounding pathetic.

The days of Pierce and I jetting out of town to blow off steam are long gone. Even before he laid eyes on Darby again, our schedules were tight. It was better to leave town to have some fun since Connie made his life hell. No complications with local hook-ups. I liked the anonymity of the deal as well. Until Ashlyn. She’s the one woman who turned around my thinking. The thought of running into her again didn’t make my skin crawl with possibilities.

And now, talking into a dark room about getting laid, I know it’s not happening until a stubborn redheaded woman gives in.

I expected a fight on Tuesday night when I suggested she spend the rest of the week picking out materials for her house. She surprised me by agreeing to do all the legwork and help keep our timeline on track. I called in an extra crew to help, and things are happening fast. The only contact I’ve had with her is a few text messages with updates and the purchase orders coming through the office.

Her early morning disappearances don’t fool me. She let down her guard during our dinner, showing me exactly why she is worth the effort. I gave her the time, knowing she was avoiding me on purpose. But two days is enough for her to build up her shields and resistance again.

I climb out of bed, wincing at the throb in my dick, and head to the bathroom. After I take care of this, I’m going to find her.

Her time is up.

•—•—•—•—•

“What are you doing here?” I ask my brother, who’s barging through the door, looking like hell. “It’s Friday afternoon. Don’t you have a family to get home to?”

“I need some physical work this afternoon,” he snaps.

“How much time do you have?”

“All fucking night. The kids are at Connie’s, and Darby has a meeting she conveniently forgot to mention this morning.”

“Maybe you should cut her some slack since she is preparing her team to lose her for twelve weeks.”

He glares at me with a tick in his jaw that speaks for itself. He hasn’t settled the issue bothering Darby.

“Think you got it in you to rip off the front porch?”

“The way I’m feeling, I could rip it apart, have the new one built, and still beat Darby home.”

“Good, helps my labor budget.” My joke goes unappreciated when he doesn’t even crack a grin, spinning on heel and stomping back through the house.

A minute later, the loud, unmistakable sound of cracking of wood as it splinters apart booms from the front windows. I finish tearing out the rest of the molding from the last room and go to help. He barely glances my way when I pop up planks. We work in silence, with the exception of his grunts, until every board is removed.

“Where’s the plywood?”

“On the side of the house. Need to check the integrity of these first.” I tap a hammer on the joists.

He jerks his head and starts his inspection. After a few minutes, he announces, “This section is solid.”

“This too.”

“I’m getting the plywood.”

“Before you do that, I want your opinion on an issue in the back.”

He sidesteps over the open frame and through the house without a word. I take my time, tossing the few tools into a bucket before joining him on the outside deck.

“What’s the problem?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” I reach into the cooler and pull out two bottles, handing him one. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Ashlyn has added ice recently.