“She’ll do anything to help out.”
I reached over underneath the table and gave his thigh a warning squeeze. I knew what he really thought of that particular trait of mine. Quick as a blink, his left hand reached over and grabbed mine, keeping it there, resting against him. For a moment, I struggled but finally had to relent when it was clear I wasn’t getting my hand back without a fight.
He continued. “Sometimes she can be too nice, but her heart’s in the right place.”
That wasn’t true either. I did things for people, but rarely was my heart in the right place about it. I mostly just wanted to avoid drama. Keep the peace.
“But one of my favorite things about Olive is that her students, even the boys, come out of her class feeling alive.”
I stilled. My heart began pounding, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to stop talking or keep going.
“She has them read books I’d never have the guts to bring into my classroom, but by the end, they all love her for it. It takes a special kind of teacher to read Jane Eyre to a bunch of teenage boys and have them enjoy it. But she does it. She’s the kind of teacher her students will come back and visit in twenty years because she meant so much to them.”
The room evolved into silence for a few moments. I was fighting a stinging hotness in my eyes that I could not, for all the holy love, allow to slip past. For all I knew, Miles was singing a tune for his parents. Playing our cover like a fiddle. Feeding our lie. Fanning the fake flame.
And…well done.
Miles cleared his throat and removed his arm from the back of my chair, his hand brushing across my shoulders as he did so. Good heavens, what was with the shoulder thing? Suddenly, it was hotter than a blaze in this house.
“Has anybody beaten my score yet?” he asked casually.
The weird feeling between us eventually dissipated as his family broke out the card games. Apparently, the Taylor family were big card sharks. My family had played more board games than cards, but I picked up the games quickly. They were the kind of players who teased and joked with others but never got angry when things didn’t go their way. It made settling in with this family easy and enjoyable, and I even found myself teasing Jack about not giving up the card he wanted. I didn’t tease much with Miles, however. Every time he shot a look or a teasing smile my way, I felt my face go hot. It was as if the conversation earlier had broken me. I had shown too much.
There was a natural rhythm between the four of us that made my heart ache. How many nights, growing up, had my family sat around our own table, playing Monopoly, or Risk, or my personal favorite, Scattergories? The joking back and forth, the camaraderie, the fake-outs…it made me miss my dad so much it hurt. But more than missing him, it made me miss us. The four of us together. Our family unit.
The hour grew later, and Sandy, ever the hostess, brought out a cheese-and-cracker platter and put on soft Christmas music as she ushered us into the living room. I had missed seeing the tree when we first arrived but now beheld it in its full glory, decorated in reds and golds with twinkling white lights and situated proudly in front of the window.
She and Jack sat on the sofa, leaving only the loveseat for me and Miles. He led me to sit down and sat next to me, leaving no separation between us. Miles Taylor was pressed up against the side of my body, his arm around my shoulders again like it was the most natural thing in the world. It should have felt natural at this point with how much we’d been touching, but it still sent a shock straight to my nerves. I tried to slink further into my seat, playing at a more casual pose without actually touching Miles, but couldn’t find the right fit. Sandy was watching me with a questioning smile on her face, so in the name of fake dating, I placed a tentative hand on Miles’s thigh. His lower thigh. It was mostly his knee. He flexed his leg under my hand.
“I don’t want to call you a chicken, but I will.” His whispered breath puffed into my ear. “You’re stiff as a board.”
I gave him a sardonic smile before snuggling more deeply into his side. His finger curled against my shoulder, and we sat that way while I listened to Miles and his dad talk about his plans for his latest book.
“I’m close to being able to start drafting with all my ideas so far, but I’ll get started writing after Christmas. I wanted to give myself a breather for the holidays,” Miles said.
“Have you read his books?” Sandy asked me, eyes shining.
I stiffened, but before I could cobble together an answer, Miles squeezed me closer to him. “If I can get her nose out of the classics, mine will be the next on her list.”
I relaxed into his grip and leaned forward to pick up a picture album from the coffee table in front of me.
“Ohhh, you’ll love that one. I just pulled it out the other day. Miles as a little boy was about the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” Sandy beamed.
And he was. Literally the cutest kid I had ever seen. It wasn’t fair, actually. He had been as skinny as a beanpole. His teeth as an adolescent youth had been janky and crazy, but I loved how he smiled wide and proud in his pictures. His eyes were bright and held the same twinkle they did now. The impish smile and messy brown hair did something to my maternal instincts. I forced myself to not linger there. For his part, he took me seeing his formative years all in stride, laughing good-naturedly about his braces and the headgear, all the while holding me close with one arm and laughing late into the night with his parents.
And when it was all said and done, Miles walked me back to my cabin.
“So, your mom kissed me on the cheek.”
He laughed. “You gotta watch her. She’ll drop one on you before you even know it’s coming. Did you have fun?”
I smiled. “They’re really nice. They seemed pretty happy we were there.”
“They’re just excited I brought a girl home.”
That phrase felt so out of place with what I had always imagined about Miles. While he didn’t seem like a Casanova, per se, he was…to nearly quote Pride and Prejudice…one of the most handsome men of my acquaintance. And that wasn’t me having any sort of crush on him. That was me stating pure, platonic fact. He had perfect hair that repeatedly fell into his eyes. The man could wear a five o’clock shadow like a cowboy could wear a tight pair of jeans. And his jeans…well…I won’t go into the way they fit him like a glove. Thank goodness I was so completely disinterested or else I could have been in trouble. Plenty of women in my position would probably fall for a man just like him.
“Huh. That surprises me, actually.”
“Why?” The look he gave me seemed genuinely curious. And now I wondered if I should have kept my mouth shut.
“I just always imagined you bringing home beautiful blonde women who probably eat kale regularly and hike Mount Everest on the weekends.”