Page 81 of Bragg's Love

He sighs. “Darling girl, I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

I widen my eyes. “What am I doing?”

“Trying to distract me.”

“Distract you?” I bat my eyelashes. “Distract you from what?”

“Taking you out on a date. Showing my girl off to the world.”

Hisgirl? “I’m not your girl.”

He growls and I ignore how the sound causes sparks to ignite in my veins. I’m supposed to be angry at him for claiming me. No, not supposed to be. I am angry.

“You’re definitely mine.”

I huff and he kisses my nose. “It’s okay. I understand you need time to understand that if you’re mine, I’m yours.”

He’s mine?My stomach warms at the idea of Miller being all mine.

He steers me toward my bedroom. “Now, get changed. The garden show closes at seven.”

I pause. “Garden show?”

“Yes, garden show.”

“The garden show in White Bridge?”

“Is there another garden show I don’t know about?”

“Why are we going to a garden show for our first date?”

“Because you love plants and flowers.”

“But you don’t.”

He shrugs. “Making you happy makes me happy.”

I don’t melt at those words. And I certainly don’t melt at a man going to a garden show on a date to please me even though he’ll be bored out of his skull. And I most certainly don’t melt at the idea of a man knowing exactly what I want to do and giving it to me.

“I’ll get changed,” I mutter before rushing off.

I don’t want to examine my feelings for Miller. It’s bad enough we had sex twice and I agreed to give dating him a chance. I don’t need the man to burrow his way into my heart any more than he already has.

Any more than he already has? Whoa. What? Am I falling for Miller the grumpy brewer? My chest warms. Shit. I am.

I put those thoughts in a box where they belong. Now is not the time. Garden show to attend, remember? Not any old garden show.Thegarden show. The one I’ve been dying to attend but haven’t because the ticket price is outrageous.

I kick off my heels before grasping the hem of my dress and dragging it up and over my body. It’s not an easy task. This dress defines tight. I manage to get the dress up to my shoulders but when I try to get it over my head, it snags on my hair.

“Ouch.” This is what I get for wearing my hair down to impress a man. Never try to impress a man.

Deep breaths, Eden. You got this dress on without any help, you can get it off without any. Although, I was counting on Miller’s assistance removing my clothes. I rub my legs together as I imagine Miller ripping my clothes off before having his wicked way with me.

There’s something seriously wrong with me. First, my inner hussy took a long ass sabbatical and now I can’t seem to get enough of sex. Sex with Miller. There I go again. I need to remove my dress and quit daydreaming about more sexy times with Miller.

I try pulling the dress over my head again but my hair is good and stuck. I can’t do this alone.

“Miller!” I shout.

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