One Night: Unveiled, Page 22

  ‘What I’d actually like to do is sink my teeth into that gorgeous, cute arse.’

  All breath leaves my lungs and sexual anticipation devours me. The bastard. He has no intention whatsoever of finishing what he’s started. But that doesn’t zap my craving or my need. Damn him!

  He nears, slowly, like he’s on the prowl, my eyes following him until he’s breathing down on me. ‘Sweet Nan isn’t in any fit state to be brandishing a carving knife.’ He wiggles a suggestive eyebrow. It’s probably the most unlike-Miller action of all the unlike-Miller actions I’ve experienced as our relationship has grown. I can’t help myself. I fall to pieces before him, but he doesn’t recoil in offense like I expect him to. He starts laughing, too, and while my desperate desire for him has faded somewhat, the overwhelming happiness coursing through me is a good compromise.

  ‘Don’t be so sure.’ I chuckle as he takes my waist and turns me in his arms, starting to guide me down the hall with his chin resting on my shoulder. ‘I think her sass has multiplied as a result of all that medication.’

  He pushes his mouth to my ear. It has me closing my eyes and soaking up every delicious piece of him touching me. ‘I concur,’ he whispers, nibbling at my lobe.

  I don’t need to fight the flames of desire from my veins because they turn to flames of madness the moment we fall into the kitchen and I catch Nan filling the kettle at the sink. ‘Nan!’

  ‘I tried!’ George gasps, throwing exasperated arms into the air as he sits. ‘She’s having none of it!’

  ‘Me too,’ Gregory interjects, just to put me firmly in the picture, his arse dropping to a chair at the kitchen table. He looks over at me, shaking his head. ‘I’m not up for a verbal beating down. I’ve had enough physical ones.’

  Guilt plagues me for a split second as a result of my best friend’s curt quip, before I’m reminded of my grievance when the kettle clatters against the edge of the sink. ‘For God’s sake!’ I shout, zooming across the kitchen when she totters slightly. Miller’s in quick pursuit, and I hear the scraping of two chairs, indicating Gregory’s and George’s quick movements. ‘Why can’t you just listen?’ I yell, anger and worry all mixing together, making me shake as I hold her.

  ‘Stop fussing!’ she barks, trying to bat my grappling hands away. ‘I’m no invalid!’

  It takes every modicum of strength not to scream my frustration at her, and I turn my helpless eyes to Miller, surprised to see annoyance rife on his lovely face. His lips straighten, which would usually be cause for concern, but right now I’m silently willing him to help rein in my stubborn grandmother.

  ‘Here,’ he mutters impatiently, removing the kettle from her hands and slamming it down before taking possession of Nan. ‘You will sit, Mrs Taylor.’ He guides a bewildered Nan past a stunned George and Gregory and sits her in a chair. She’s looking up at Miller from her seated position with wary eyes as he towers over her, daring her to defy him. She’s speechless, her mouth dropped open in shock. Miller drags in a long, calming pull of breath, hitches up his trousers slightly at the thighs, then lowers to his haunches before her. Nan’s eyes follow him down until they’re level. She remains silent, and so do the rest of us.

  ‘You will do as you’re told,’ Miller begins, quickly raising a hand and placing a finger over her lips when she inhales, ready to fire back some sass. ‘Nuh-uh-uh,’ Miller cuts in firmly. I might not be able to see his face, but I can see the slight warning cock of his head, and I know for sure she’s also being held in place with equally warning eyes. Miller slowly, carefully removes his finger and she immediately purses her lips indignantly.

  ‘Quite the bossy man, aren’t you?’

  ‘You have no idea, Mrs Taylor.’

  Nan’s eyes flip to mine, searching for . . . I don’t know what, but I know I’m giving her something, even if I’m trying my hardest not to. My cheeks are flushing furiously. I damn them to hell for letting me down and shift under her curious gaze.

  ‘Mrs Taylor,’ Miller says quietly, saving me from further probing eyes when she returns her attention to him. ‘I’m quite familiar with the Taylor sass.’ He jabs a thumb over his shoulder in my general direction, making me want to announce that it’s only utilised in special circumstances. But I refrain. Wisely. ‘I’ve become quite accustomed to it, in fact.’

  ‘Bully for you,’ Nan mutters, raising her nose in the air insolently. ‘What you gonna do? Spank me?’

  I cough to conceal my laugh, as do George and Gregory. She’s a gem!

  ‘Not my style,’ Miller replies flippantly, not biting to her sass. It only spikes more huffiness from Nan and snickering to the point of tears from the rest of us. This is just priceless, and I desperately avoid George’s and Gregory’s eyes, knowing they’ll have me doubling over should I catch a glimpse of their own amusement.

  ‘Do you know how much I love your granddaughter, Josephine?’

  That soon brings all of the uncontrollable tittering to a rapid halt, and Nan’s face softens in an instant. ‘I have a good idea,’ she says quietly.

  ‘Well let me confirm it for you,’ Miller says formally. ‘It hurts like hell.’ I freeze and watch Nan’s face over Miller’s shoulder practically burst with happiness. ‘Right here.’ He takes her hand and lays it over his suit jacket. ‘My sweet girl has shown me how to love, and that just makes me love her all the more. She’s everything to me. Seeing her hurt or sad, it cripples me, Josephine.’

  I remain quiet in the background, just like Gregory and George. He’s speaking to her like they’re alone. I don’t know what this has to do with Nan being obedient, but he seems to be in his stride and I trust it has some relevance.

  ‘I know that feeling,’ Nan murmurs, forcing a sad smile. I could cry. ‘I’ve felt that before.’

  Miller nods and reaches up to brush a stray grey curl from her forehead. ‘Olivia is besotted with you, dear lady. And I’m quite fond of you, too.’

  Nan gives Miller a shy smile and claims his hand. I’ve no doubt she’s squeezing it hard. ‘You ain’t so bad yourself.’

  ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’

  ‘And you have good buns!’

  ‘So I’m told.’ He laughs, leaning in and kissing her cheek. I crumble on the inside with happiness, when I should probably be rolling on the floor with laughter as a result of her cheeky remark.

  Miller’s never had anyone. Now he not only has me, but he has my nan as well. And the extent of his appreciation is suddenly so palpable. He loves Nan, too. On a different level, of course, but his feelings for her are strong. Very strong, and he’s proved it in every word and action since we’ve returned from New York.

  ‘Now –’ he stands, leaving Nan seated, looking all content and dreamy – ‘Olivia is going to tuck you into bed. I’ll help Gregory make tea, and George is going to deliver it to your room.’

  ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I do.’ Miller looks across to me, giving me an interested look when he catches my watery eyes. ‘Chop-chop.’

  I mentally pull myself together and collect Nan from her chair, eager to escape the presence of my beautiful man before he has me wailing all over the kitchen. ‘OK?’ I ask as she takes slow steps out of the kitchen, up the corridor towards the stairs.

  ‘Never better,’ she answers with total sincerity, tugging painfully at my heartstrings. My contentment is soon stolen and replaced with dread because no matter how far down I bury it in my head, there’s one thing that I can’t hide from her forever.

  Gracie Taylor.

  I’m struggling to come to terms with it myself. Nan would never cope.

  ‘He’ll marry you one day,’ she muses to herself, snapping me from my wandering, agonising thoughts. ‘You mark my words, Olivia. I’ve never felt love so rich and pure in my eight decades of life.’ She takes the stairs gingerly, me following and holding her from behind, my mind in a whirlwind of conflict – indescribable happiness and overshadowing sadness. ‘Miller Hart loves you to death.’ />
  Chapter 16

  It takes me over an hour to tend to Nan, and I relish every moment, from helping her bathe to tucking her into bed. I dry and brush her hair, help her slip on her frilly nightie, and plump her pillows before helping her climb in. ‘I bet you’re loving this,’ she muses quietly, patting down the bedding around her. She’s sitting up, her grey curls perfectly swishing around her shoulders as she gets cosy.

  ‘I like looking after you,’ I admit, refraining from tagging on the end that I prefer looking after her when she really doesn’t need it. I want her well, back to normal. She may have regained her spunk, but I’m not delusional to think that makes her fully recovered.

  ‘You needn’t think I’ll allow you to slip back into that empty world you chose to hide in before Miller came along,’ she tells me, keeping her attention on the sheets. I pause with my fussing and watch as she looks at me from the corner of her eye. ‘Just so you know.’

  ‘I know,’ I appease her, ignoring the dash of doubt nibbling at the corner of my mind. It would be easy to hide again, rather than deal with all of the challenges ahead.

  ‘I’ve told you before, Olivia,’ she continues. I don’t like where this conversation is heading. ‘Falling in love is easy. Holding on to it is special. Don’t think I’m silly enough to believe everything is perfect. I see a besotted man. I see a besotted girl.’ She pauses. ‘And one thing I can see even clearer than that are the demons Miller Hart is harbouring.’

  I lose my breath.

  ‘I can also see his desperation. He can’t hide from me.’ She watches me closely. I’m still holding my breath. ‘He’s depending on you, my darling girl. Help him.’

  A light rapping at Nan’s bedroom door startles me and I rush across her room to open the door, my mind racing, the need to escape making me panic. I find George looking slightly reluctant as he balances a tray of tea in his hands. ‘OK, Olivia?’

  ‘Yes,’ I squeak, standing back to give him access.

  ‘Is she up for visitors? I have tea.’

  ‘Take me dancing, George!’ Nan yells from behind me, making George grin.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ George slips in, his grin widening when his eyes find her, all neat and tidy in her bed. ‘You look spectacular, Josephine.’

  I’m surprised not to hear a scoff or sarcastic retort. ‘Thank you, George.’ Nan taps the bedside table in a signal for him to set the tray down, which he does promptly and carefully. ‘Let’s see if his tea is up to scratch.’

  ‘No one makes tea like you, Josephine,’ George says happily, popping a sugar into each teacup.

  I observe them for a few moments as I hover at the doorway, smiling when I catch Nan smack the back of George’s hand and George laugh delightedly. He’s happy to have her home, and though she’ll never admit it, she’s as equally happy with George back under her roof. The role reversal may bring on more bickering than usual between the two of them.

  ‘I’ll be downstairs,’ I say, backing out of the room, but neither acknowledges my announcement and Nan continues to give George precise instructions as he attempts to make the tea to Nan’s standards. He’s attempting in vain. No one makes tea like Nan.

  Leaving them to their comedy act, I take off down the stairs, relieved to be out of Nan’s radar, soon finding myself in the kitchen, where Miller is leaning against the worktop and Gregory is slumped in a chair. Both men look at me as I enter. I’m under close scrutiny, but while I’m uncomfortable, it’s a relief not to find them at each other’s throat. That relief soon fades when I take all of the anxious vibes being thrown my way and conclude why Miller and Gregory look so apprehensive.

  Miller’s told him about my mum. Every defence mechanism loads, locks, and gets ready to fire at whoever decides to hit me with their thoughts first, but after a long painful silence and neither man has spoken, I take the situation into my own hands.

  And bury my head a little farther.

  ‘She’s settled and George is with her.’ I head for the sink and plunge my hands into the soapy water. ‘She seems quite bright, but she needs to stay in bed for a week or so.’ I wash and place the few dirty mugs on the drainer and then swirl my hands around in the sink, vainly trying to locate something else to wash. ‘She’s going to be hard work.’

  ‘Olivia?’ Miller’s footsteps approach behind me. My eyes close and I give up blindly grappling in the water for nothing. ‘I think you’re done.’ He takes my hands from the sink and starts to dry them with a tea towel, but I shrug him off and grab a dishcloth.

  ‘I should wipe the table down.’ I slap the sopping material on the table, making Gregory shift back. I don’t miss the cautious look he tosses over my shoulder in Miller’s direction. ‘I need to keep the house spic-and-span.’ My hand works furiously across the pristine wood, wiping up a mess that isn’t even there. ‘She’ll only moan or try to clean up herself.’

  Strong hands wrap around my wrists and hold them still. ‘Enough.’

  My eyes climb his bespoke suit, up his neck, and onto his shadowed jaw. Blue eyes are sinking into me. Sympathetic eyes. I don’t need sympathy. I need to be allowed to get on with things.

  ‘I’m not ready,’ I whisper, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat, my eyes begging him to let me be.

  ‘And I don’t want to expose you to more pain.’ He pries the cloth from my hand, folding it neatly, while I silently thank him and breathe in some composure. ‘I’m staying here tonight, so I’ll need to pop home and collect some things.’

  ‘OK,’ I agree, busying myself by brushing down the front of my sundress.

  ‘Yeah, I should be going,’ Gregory pipes up, standing and putting his hand out to Miller, who accepts immediately, nodding sharply. It’s a silent message – something to reassure my best friend.

  Their polite exchange at any other time would be so satisfying to see. Not now, though. Now it’s like they’ve teamed up as a last resort . . . to deal with the fragile waif. I can’t help the wave of resentment I feel. This is just a show. They’re not being courteous because they know it’s what I would really love, for them both to be friendly and actually like each other. They’re acting like this for fear of tipping me over the edge.

  Gregory approaches and pulls me into a hug that I struggle to return. I suddenly really do feel fragile. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, baby girl.’

  I nod and break out of his hold. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  ‘OK.’ His reply is drawn out, and he moves to the kitchen door, raising his hand to Miller in goodbye.

  I don’t see Miller’s response, or whether any more exchanges are passed because I’m halfway up the hallway.

  ‘She’s a firecracker!’ George laughs, and I look up to see him plodding down the stairs. ‘But exhausted. I’ve left her to have a kip.’

  ‘Are you going, George?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll be back tomorrow at noon sharp. I have my orders.’ He reaches the bottom of the stairs on a huff, his big chest pulsing from the exertion. ‘You look after her,’ he says, giving my shoulder a little squeeze.

  ‘I’ll take you home, George.’ Gregory appears, waving his keys. ‘As long as you don’t mind sharing a seat with a few tools.’

  ‘Ha! I shared space with far less desirable things during the war, lad.’

  Gregory passes me on a strained smile and opens the door for George. ‘You can tell me all about it on the way home.’

  ‘It’ll make your toes curl!’

  They’re both off up the garden path, George rabbiting about his war days, Gregory laughing tightly every now and then in response. I close the door, shut the world outside, but soon realise that I can’t shut my mind down. I’m fooling myself. Being here, smelling our house, knowing Nan is safe upstairs and Miller is floating around in all of his perfection, isn’t working as I’d hoped. Nan’s shockingly accurate conclusion has only added to it.

  The distant ring of my mobile makes me moan, and I make no rush to go in search of it. Anyon
e who I would like to talk to is either here or just this moment left. I pad back to the kitchen, finding no Miller. Locating my bag, I rummage through it until I find the source of the persistent sound. I hit Reject and notice six missed calls, all from William. I turn it off and toss it to the side, glowering at it.

  Then I go in search of Miller. I find him in the lounge, seated on the edge of the couch. He has a book in his hands. A black book. And he’s engrossed in the pages.

  ‘Miller!’

  He visibly jumps and the book snaps shut as I hurry over and swipe it from his hand. ‘Where did you get this?’ I ask angrily, holding it behind my back, hiding it . . . ashamed of it.

  ‘It was tucked down the side of the couch.’ He points to the edge, provoking a mental image of me dumping it on the sofa when I last tortured myself by reading a passage. How could I be so careless?

  ‘You shouldn’t have read it,’ I spit, feeling the horrid thing burning my hands, like in a weird sense, it’s coming back to life. I shake that wayward train of thought away before it takes too much more of my attention – undeserved attention. ‘Reminiscing, were you?’ I ask. ‘Reminding yourself of what you’re going to be missing?’ I regret my vicious attack before Miller’s face twists with hurt, even more so when that hurt morphs into anger. That was unnecessary and spiteful. I didn’t mean it at all. I’m lashing out, being unreasonable and cruel to the wrong person.

  He slowly rises to his full height, his face falling into his signature impassiveness, and busies himself by pulling at his jacket sleeves before straightening his tie. I’m shifting on my feet, searching my brain for something to redeem myself. There’s nothing. I can’t take that back. ‘I’m sorry.’ I drop my head in shame, resisting the urge to toss the book into the fire.

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ he retorts with zero genuineness, striding past me.

  ‘Miller, please!’ I reach out to grab his arm, but he dodges me, stealthily removing himself from my reach. ‘Miller.’

  He swings around, physically knocking me back when his fierce eyes land on me. His jaw is pulsing, his chest expanding fast. I wilt under every hard-cut plane of his face and telling sign of his current state of mind. He points directly at me. ‘Never throw that in my face again,’ he warns, beginning to shake before me. ‘Never! Do you hear me?’ He storms out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me immobilised by his raw fury. It’s never before been directed solely on me with such intensity. He looked like he could smash something to pieces, and while I’d put my life on him never laying a finger on me, I fear for anyone else who may cross his path right now.