"I shouldn't have said this was a date."
"But you said it, can't take it back now."
"A date would imply you asked me out. You didn't give me a choice."
"Maybe that's my way of asking."
"It's not very romantic. Women like to be asked."
"Are you teaching me the etiquette of dating, Princess?"
"I'm not sure you'd be a good student."
"I bet with you as my teacher I'll be an exceptional student."
My stomach clenches at his fun-loving mood, and I stare out the window to avoid him. "I'd be a horrible teacher. I haven't been on a date in almost ten years unless you count business dinners and late-night functions with the scum-sucking asshole I used to work for."
Shut up, Ashlyn! Why the hell did you just spew that out like it was a casual comment? Now he has every right to ask me more about my past.
Instead of questioning me, Miller stays quiet for a few seconds. Then he reaches over and covers my hand with his own, bringing it to rest on his knee.
"Good thing for me I'm a quick learner. Get ready."
I try to smother that little sliver of hope that churns inside. Then I find a bit of my old self, and before I can help myself, I blurt, "Not sure I'm the one to try your moves on."
"Baby, if I wanted to try my moves, we wouldn't have left your house with your bed six feet away from where I could definitely prove you had many choices of what happened next."
"You have to quit."
"Nope, not happening." He runs his thumb along my wrist. "But for now, look around."
I do as he instructs and gasp at the scenery. We are in one of the historic districts you see on any website or visitor brochure highlighting Charleston. I love Pierce and Darby's home, but this area is a different old Charleston beauty.
"Wow." My eyes dart around furiously, not wanting to miss a single house.
"In two weeks, you won't recognize these homes. They will be decorated for the holidays."
"Why so early?"
"They like to finish by mid-November to kick off the season. Many of these are part of the historical society and take part in events to benefit local charities."
"I bet it's breathtaking." I can picture the extravagant and elegant décor.
"It's not exactly my thing, but it's popular. I figured you might be into it."
"I am, Christmas is my favorite. I can't wait to decorate next year."
"Why next year?" He parks along a sidewalk and twists in his seat.
"The house won't be ready this year."
"The house will be ready."
"Let me rephrase. The house won't be ready for the way I envision it. I barely had room for a tree in my apartment in Chicago. Now I have an entire home to fill top to bottom. Wreaths on the windows, lights strung on the porches, candles, and Christmas villages to set up… an enormous tree in the living room visible from the street. Faux snow covering my bookshelves filled with holiday knick-knacks. The mantle on the fireplace with my stocking surrounded by hanging holiday cards." I sigh happily.
I turn to find him staring at me with a thoughtful expression. "Your house will be ready," he repeats.
"I won't hold you to that promise. I expect some challenges along the way. Plus, I need to buy most of these things."
He lifts our joined hands and kisses across my knuckles. "Let me rephrase. I'll make it where you can have your huge tree in the corner, your wreaths on your windows, your faux snow—whatever the hell that is, and anything else you want to make the first Christmas in your house memorable." The determination in his voice makes me believe him.
"I would really love that."
"You can start shopping."
I nod, giving him a grateful grin and look around to avoid leaping over the console to thank him. "Why are we stopped?"
"You're almost done with the inside. Now it's time to decide about the outside." He squeezes my hand before getting out and coming around the truck to my side. "You think you can walk a few blocks in those shoes?"
"I can do almost anything in these." I kick out my leg and model the wedges. "Don't forget I made it over the studs last night with ease."
His smile dies as his lips form a tight line. "Yeah, that wasn't smart."
"I'm perfectly capable of balancing on two feet."
"Don't do something like that again."
"I see you're back to being bossy."
"If you consider bossy watching out for your safety, then yes."
"That's twice you've insinuated that I'm a klutz or unable to handle simple things."
"Baby, you want to walk a beam, I'll set up a dozen in your living room. Last night, you could have fallen through the frame and broken your neck. My fucking fault that I got so caught up in Pierce's shit that I didn't finish the plywood first. But you should have the sense to walk around."
There's no time to argue and no time to brace because, by the time I catch the intention in his eyes, I'm out of my seat and in his arms with his mouth covering mine. The tip of his tongue slides in and rolls through my mouth once before he pulls away, setting me on my feet. I sway in a daze, latching onto his arm for balance.
He's full out smiling when I regain my footing.
"What is wrong with you?" I squeak.
"Not a thing."
"I told you no more kissing."
"I must have missed that."
"You didn't miss it."
"Keep arguing, Princess." He raises an eyebrow, licking his bottom lip.
I open then snap my jaw tight.
"Now that I have your attention, it's time to make some more decisions."
"About?"
He takes my hand, walking us forward. "Landscaping."
"We're ready for that?"
"I've scheduled a crew in a few weeks. Thought today would be a good time to get an idea of what you'd like. It'll make things easier."
"I have a folder of ideas at the house."
"Do you think a collection of magazine photographs is the way to make
