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“Why are we here?”
“You’ll see.” He gets out and comes around to open my door, offering his hand.
I take it, and like this morning, the instant our skin touches, my stomach twists, and flutters of excitement bubble inside. He leads me across a path of cobblestone pavers and up the porch steps, keeping our hands linked.
“Look at the lock.”
I do as he asks and recognize the locking system. “I’ve seen this before.”
“We’re putting these on your new doors. The deadbolts are good and serve a purpose, but this system is digitally state-of-the art. It’s a safer option, and the functionality goes beyond a door lock.”
“I want it,” I blurt, without thinking of the research I should do.
His lips curl, and he dips his chin. “I’ll order it.”
“Should I get two?”
“I’ll take care of what you need. Let’s give it a try. Type in four-six-nine-two- enter.”
I try to free my hand, but he grips tighter until I use my other hand. There’s a beeping followed by a click, and he opens the door, nudging me ahead of him. The instant I step foot into his home, my heart goes into a frenzy in my chest.
“Oh, my…” I trail off, my eyes flying around the open space excitedly. He finally lets me go when I spin to take it all in. There’s so much to see, but when my gaze catches Miller’s, I freeze.
“You did all this?”
“I did.”
“What about the interior?” It’s basic but in a stylish, masculine way.
“Infrastructure was all me. Decorating was help from my mom.”
“It’s incredible.”
“I like it. Take a look around. After a day like today, I’m getting a beer. Want one?”
“No, thank you.” This is an auto-response, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth, my mind changes. “Actually, yes, I’d like a beer.”
He studies me for a split second before smirking then leaves me standing in the middle of the main room. I take him up on his offer to look around. Some people would walk into this house and take in the beauty, never understanding the work. Considering I’ve spent months educating myself on the process of full-scale renovations, it’s obvious the craftsmanship and detailed work that went into it. When I come to an open door and see a king-sized bed with rumpled sheets and clumps of pillows, I stop, taking in the space. It feels intimate, knowing this is his room and where he sleeps at night. In my head, I’ve always thought of him lying in that hotel room, his body tangled in the stark white sheets. The deep blue of his comforter instantly replaces that image, and I can see him sleeping in this massive bed.
The scent of him hits me, and I force myself to move, knowing I shouldn’t invade his private space.
He’s leaning against the counter holding a bottle in his hand when I get to the kitchen. He reaches behind him and hands me my own opened bottle.
It feels foreign, so I place it on the counter to keep it from slipping. My skin prickles under his stare with the awkward silence.
“Do you know why I brought you here?”
Realization washes over me, and I nod slowly, my gut now winding with embarrassment and shame. “Your home is beautiful, Miller.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“In your line of business, I hope so.” Instead of coming out with an edge of humor, the statement comes out bitchy. I clear my throat and try again, “You definitely know what you’re doing.”
“Shit like this morning needs to stop. You will get the house you want, I promise. But ditch the attitude. I have no idea what kind of life you lived in Chicago, but it won’t fly down here.”
I take a sip of the beer to avoid responding, knowing he’s right. My actions this morning were over the top. “Maybe I acted a bit haughty.”
“You have to let go of some of this control and trust in the process.”
“You mean I have to trust you.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“Why’d you take on this project?” I peer up at him. “Watching and seeing you on the commercial sites today is proof that my house isn’t your typical job.”
“Not exactly true. We work in residential construction.”
“Stephanie told me this isn’t your style.”
“You know why I took the job.”
I take another sip of the beer, trying not to flinch at the burn scaling down my throat.
“It was you,” he confirms what I secretly hoped he’d say, and at the same time know it’s wrong.
“But why? You obviously resent me. Is taking this project a way to get back at me? Boss me around and embarrass me?”
His blue eyes darken, and his lips form a tight line as he studies me. “I don’t want to get back at you, Ashlyn. I think we’ve established I’m interested in you.”
