Page 49 of Love in Bloom

Miller relaxed and tucked her head under his chin. This had nothing to do with them, but with Wren’s baggage. Baggage he wished she’d lose.

“Wren, what’s it going to take for you to realize I’m not him? We’re not them?”

“Who’s them?” she asked.

“Them. Who you and Michael were. You’re not the same woman now that you were with him, so in my mind that makes you a separate person, makes you a them.” Miller knew he wasn’t expressing himself clearly. He added Wren’s ability to drop his substantial I.Q. to her list of flaws. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes, in a way. And I know you’re not Michael, even though you share a lot of similarities.”

“Because we’re both lawyers.”

“And you’re both good-looking. But you’re off-the-scale scorchingly hot.” He was desperate enough to take the compliment. Wren reminded him of his flaws often, so when she said something nice, he took it.

“Wren, law is my job, it’s my interest, but it’s not who I am. I think you know me better than that.”

“I know. I just panicked. I’m sorry.” She reached up and touched his face. Her fingers were cold. Miller covered them with his hand.

“And just so we’re clear, you are not a liability. If the Wren I know had shown up tonight, she’d have been a huge asset for me.”

“I need more faith in myself. I should probably call my therapist and make an appointment. I’m obviously still struggling. Broken.” He heard the disappointment in her voice.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Miller said as he turned his head and pressed a small kiss on her icy palm. She dragged her hand away and tucked it underneath the blanket. “Did you know, in Japan they sometimes patch a broken bowl with gold?”

“Is this a pottery lesson?”

“No, it’s a life lesson so pay close attention. They see the gold, or the flaw, as an important piece of the bowl’s history that adds to its beauty.” He slid his hand to her chin and tilted her face so she had to look at him. Her eyes looked like she’d been crying earlier.Sadist, Miller acknowledged to himself. He was glad she’d cried over this. It was proof she cared about their relationship. “Your flaws make you beautiful, but you do need to work on patching them. And you need to have more faith in us.” Wren nodded her head in agreement.

She pulled his head closer and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. Miller slipped his hand to the back of her neck and fisted his hands in her thick hair urging her closer. He angled her head and took full possession of her lips. They quickly warmed under his. Wren slipped her arms around him and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Remembering they were sitting on his illuminated front step, Miller reluctantly broke the kiss and tucked Wren’s head against his shoulder.

“By the way”—he shifted and tried to create some space between them —“where did you get that dress?”

“It was in the back of my closet. I should have tried it on before committing to wear it. Last time I wore it, I was really thin. It was a tough squeeze tonight. Now I know how a sausage feels.”

“Well, if that’s the case, you were the hottest sausage there.”

“You cleaned up pretty good, too.” She rubbed her palm against his chest. He nuzzled her ear and nipped the lobe. Wren squirmed on his lap.

“I want that dress,” he growled.

“I don’t think it’s in your size.” Miller lightly pinched her butt, and she laughed.

“Do you like the dress?” he asked.

“No, and I didn’t really like it when I bought it either,” she confessed.

“Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to burn it at the first bonfire of the summer.”

“I don’t think fabric like that burns, it just melts. But we could shred it with scissors,” she suggested, getting into the spirit of it. Miller liked the sound of ‘we.’

“Good plan. We’ll kill the dress before it creates more havoc.”

“Evil dress,” Wren agreed.

“Keep the shoes, though,” Miller commanded. “The shoes were great. With shoes like that, you wouldn’t need to wear anything else.”

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