Miller's Time (Southern Charmers Series Book 2)

by Ahren Sanders

  Her jaw drops, and she shoves at me; this time I let her go. "You and I are definitely setting boundaries." She stomps past me, and I adjust my cock to hide the bulge.

  "Something to look forward to," I call to her back, my eyes on her ass.

  Her grumbling sounds through the house until her door clicks shut. I grab all the paper off the floor, using the time for my dick to relax, and take it to the dumpster outside. Rod is already working with his measuring tape.

  "Be right back," I tell him on the way through the kitchen out back.

  My phone rings with Pierce's name on the screen. "Hey," I answer, walking further into the yard, surveying what needs yanking out.

  "I need a favor," he clips coldly.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I just dropped the kids at their schools and am headed to the bakery."

  "Something up?"

  "Darby's hiding something. She left the house so damn early the kids weren't up yet. I tried to fast track getting them ready for school. Now she isn't answering her phone, which is pissing me off."

  "She may be busy."

  "Too busy to answer the fucking phone? That shit will not fly. She's avoiding me until she can pull herself together and pretend nothing is wrong."

  "Are you always this unreasonable?" This is a rhetorical question because everyone who knows Pierce is aware of his obsession with Darby. If she shows the slightest sign of distress, he is out of his mind.

  "Not the morning to fuck with me, Miller."

  "What do you need from me?"

  "I'll message you a list of things that need attention this morning."

  "You think your shit will take all morning to handle?"

  "Hell if I know, but my wife's upset, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to fix it."

  "All right, send it over."

  "Thanks."

  I end the call and head back into the house. When I hit the kitchen, my entire body tenses at the scene. Ashlyn and Rod are huddled close over the small table in the middle of the room, and she's walking him through her design drawing. Her hair hangs in loose waves, her face is made up, and she's covered the tank with an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder.

  She raises her face to mine, and the businesswoman is in place.

  "Rod offered to take me to an appliance showroom this morning," she informs me.

  Rod's a good enough guy. Reliable, low drama, and one hell of a subcontractor. But he's also my age and a red-blooded male. "Is that right? That was generous."

  Rod picks up on my tone, raises his eyes to mine, and his lips curl as he takes a side step away.

  She rolls her eyes, straightening her stance. "Yes, it was generous."

  "Thanks for the offer, Rod. I'll roll by there after Ashlyn and I finish up rounds this morning."

  "What rounds?" she throws back.

  "Pierce had an unexpected change to his schedule, and he's on his way to Darby. I'm helping him out."

  "Is Darby okay?"

  "She will be once my brother gets to her. Now grab your things. As soon as Rod's done, we're headed out."

  "Headed out where? I have plenty to do here."

  "You're done for the day. A crew is coming to finish clearing the upstairs."

  "All the more reason for me to stick around since you have to help your family. I'll supervise your team."

  "My guys are competent. Get your bag and pack up your samples."

  Her face stays passive, but her eyes flare with defiance. "You go ahead with your day, Miller, I'll be in charge here."

  "Princess, get your damn stuff, and let's go. We're wasting time."

  "No, you're wasting time with this useless conversation. And don't call me Princess!" She scowls, crossing her arms to make her point.

  Rod coughs to cover his amusement, and she whips her head to him. "Something funny?"

  "Not at all, I'm enjoying the entertainment."

  "Nothing about this is amusing."

  "You're not standing in my shoes. What I'm seeing is fucking hilarious."

  "It will not be hilarious when I fire you both for insubordination."

  His eyes dart to mine and his expression tells it all. He's waiting to see how I'll handle this. It's my turn to chuckle.

  "What are you laughing at?" she snaps.

  "Good to know the bitch comes out when you don't get your way."

  "Did you call me a bitch?"

  "Nope, made an observation. We need to finish this and get going."

  Her glare grows scorching, and splotches of red creep up her neck. Tension floats in the air between us as I hold her stare.

  "As fun as this has been, I'm done. I'll email you later with the final numbers. Let me know about the appliances. My offer to go with you stands." Rod reaches around her to get his notebook.

  "I've got it covered," I answer him.

  "That's what I figured. Looking forward to seeing how this turns out. Nice to meet you, Ashlyn. Sure I'll see you again."

  Ashlyn slices her eyes to him, some of her irritation thawing.

  "You are one crazy fool," he mumbles, passing by on his way out.

  When we're alone, she remains quiet, staring into space as she works through something in her mind.

  "You have something to say—go for it."

  "I should have known this would not work. It's impossible to have a professional relationship with a man I've slept with. It's best if we cut our ties and move on."

  It's not what she says, but the way she says it. Her voice is steady and removed, her expression no longer flushed with irritation but reflective in part. She's resigned, and when her eyes meet mine, I don't like the vacancy brewing in them.

  "That's bullshit and you know it."

  "No, really. This morning is a perfect example."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "It started with you chastising me for using a ladder, bossing me around, and ended with you embarrassing and undermining me with one of my workers. I won't stand for it."

  "Won't stand for it?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Bury the bitch, Ashlyn. She's not needed here."

  "Stop calling me a bitch."

  "Then open your eyes to what's happening and stop being defensive. I didn't like you on the ladder, not because you aren't capable, but because you were alone. Accidents happen, even to professionals, and since you're not a professional, it's a higher likelihood you could get hurt. That was me showing concern.

  "There's nothing to be fucking embarrassed over. Rod didn't think twice about what happened here. You need to understand these workers, as you refer to them, they work for me, not you. Therefore, there is no undermining. They have their jobs, and they do what's expected. You do not factor into that. I told you last week I'm not cutting you out, but we all have jobs to do and roles to play. Your role is to choose what's replacing all the shit we tear out. That way, when we're ready to install we're not standing around wasting fucking time waiting for back orders. Stripping wallpaper, spackling walls, painting—you'll get your shot to contribute."

  There's a slight flinch as she opens her mouth, but I keep going.

  "You left out the most important part of this morning and that's when I was about five seconds from peeling you out of that flimsy top and fucking you on the bathroom floor. We aren't cutting ties because you don't get your way, Ashlyn."

  "You don't get to make that decision."

  "I sure as hell do because, unlike you, I'm not ignoring our past. We'll find that woman I spent days with and bring her back. You’ll work through whatever shit is in your head and the baggage you brought from Chicago."

  Her face pales right before she snaps. "That's none of your business."

  "You're wrong because the minute I pulled up in your driveway and met Ashlyn Rhodes, you became my business. Like it or not."

  "This is infuriating. I'm firing you."

  "Not today, you're not. Now, will you get your goddamned things so we can start our day? I'd like to h
andle Pierce's morning schedule, go by the bakery to make sure my sister-in-law is okay, then pick out your appliances so we can move onto the fixtures."

  Her entire stature changes and her eyes grow lax. "You're checking on Darby?"

  "Hell yes. Whatever happened this morning has Pierce on edge. In case you haven't picked up on it, with their history, Pierce doesn't like her upset. I need to go by and step in as the voice of reason if needed. At the very least, carry her some lunch."

  She seems to think about this and glances down at herself. "I need to change. This is not appropriate."

  "It's perfect. We aren't headed to court. We're headed to job sites, a bakery, and another showroom. Leave your power clothes on the hangers."

  "Will you stop being bossy!?" She flings her hands in the air. "I'm still not convinced I'm going with you."

  "If we had more time, I'd find this stubborn streak sexy. Definitely see the lawyer in you coming through."

  Her nose crinkles as she studies me, dragging her lip through her teeth. "Why are you so interested in going appliance shopping with me? You've obviously got a full schedule."

  "Before this issue with Pierce, you were my schedule today. Taking you to a wholesale warehouse a friend of the family owns. He's got stock that you can't necessarily find anywhere local that won't cost a ton or special delivery. He's also reasonable and won't break your budget. I made a call, so he's expecting us."

  Her eyes grow wide, and she drops her arms, the tension fading. "That was considerate of you."

  "If you'd stop fighting me at every turn, you'd see I am considerate in a lot of ways."

  "I don't fight you. I don't take kindly to being bossed around."

  I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes, searching for self-control.

  "I'll get my things now." She gives in after a minute.

  "That would be good," I speak to the floor.

  There's no immediate movement, and I lose my patience. "You have sixty seconds before I throw your ass over my shoulder and haul you to my truck. I'm hoping your time expires."

  There's a shuffle, and she's gone, smartly taking the long way around the kitchen to avoid being within my reach.

  Clever move, but I'll get my chance.

  Chapter 4

  Ashlyn

  My thoughts are scattered in a thousand different directions as I pretend to admire the houses as we pass through. In reality, the only thing on my mind is Miller. The events of the day replay over and over. Today, I saw a preview of the man I had no idea existed.

  The boss who everyone loves and respects.

  The contractor that patiently waited as I wandered through a warehouse, openly offering advice when needed.

  The brother and brother-in-law whose love and protection shined through when there was something wrong with Pierce and Darby.

  Since walking away from that hotel room, I locked away the memories he gave me of him as the passionate and gentle lover. With all the mess happening in my life back then, I only allowed myself to think of him as the man who eased the slashing pain and humiliation. His life, career, family, and interests had no place in my head. Too much was at risk to lose focus.

  Today, that all changed.

  After seeing this side of him—it's official; Miller Kendrick is the kind of man a woman could lose herself in. I'm that woman.

  And it scares the shit out of me.

  I don't know how long passes before I realize we're stopped in a driveway. My eyes drift along the landscaped property, admiring the beauty in the simplicity until they land on the grey and white home.

  "Where are we?"

  "My house."

  "This is your house?" I swivel to him.

  "Is that so shocking?" His eyebrows arch.

  "Well," I try to find my words that won't come out rude, "I'd never pictured you as a bungalow type of guy."

  "What did you picture?"

  "I don't know. A condo or townhome."

  "I'm going to regret this, but I'll ask anyway. Why would you think that?"

  "I don't know. You seem like a low maintenance and easy upkeep type of guy."

  "I am. But I'm also a big fan of my space and style. This didn't take as much work as Pierce's place, but it's all mine."

  "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 t
he 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."

  "No, you're interested in Lily. The reckless and impulsive woman from the bar that went back to your hotel room. She was an imposter."

  "I don't believe that. You may have amnesia, but there was nothing reckless about her. You were passionate, seductive, and wild. Everything about that weekend was fucking remarkable."

  "You need to get it through your thick head, that woman doesn't exist."

  "I will find her, and in the process, I'm going to find out what fucked up shit happened to you."

  "My 'fucked up shit', as you so eloquently put it, is in the past."

  "Whatever you say, Princess."

  "Stop calling me that!"

  "Why does it bother you so much?" he pushes, and the tickle in my throat builds.

  My control slips, and before I can get a grip, I blurt out, "Because I know what it means! I held that title for years. Prada Princess, Dior Diva, Gucci Gal, Burberry Bitch… all the ways people referred to me while I was busting my ass up the corporate ladder. I told myself what they thought didn't matter. Those people wanted to be me, so I ignored the snide comments and owned my success. When the truth came out, I swore no one would ever call me that again. I left that behind in Chicago." My face flames in humiliation as the last sentence comes out squeaky.

  In the next moment, Miller has me in his arms. Fingers fisting my hair as he brings my face to his.