Cinnamon Roll Set Up (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

27. Georgia

Chapter 27

Georgia

This party is the antidote to Ava’s. Blankets and camp chairs are spread out across the sprawling lawn, a picnic table displays tons of treats and classic movie theater snacks, and steel ice buckets hold drinks. Not a fairy godmother or a fancy Jack Skellington pi?ata in sight.

Miles and I walk across the gravel drive in front of the barn where an assortment of cars and trucks are parked. I’ve got his hand held tight in mine, a plastic container of cookies in the other. Pretty sure both hands are sweaty.

I was thrilled when Harper invited me to this—I love her extended family, and an outdoor movie night sounded like the perfect way to wrap up October. But as we approach the six or so other couples already mingling around the food, this feels an awful lot like hard-launching a relationship.

Nerves skitter through my stomach, but I’m not quite sure what they’re for. All the gazes surreptitiously dancing over us? The inevitable questions I won’t know how to answer? Or the fact that I’ve never had any kind of relationship to share before?

I hope Miles knows what he’s getting himself into. I sure don’t .

Sam watches us walk over like a cat with a canary stuffed in his mouth—the canary being every single sassy thing he can think to say about Miles and me. Luckily, Harper gets to us first.

“We’re so happy you two could join us. Here.” She takes the cookies from me and adds them to the snack supply. “I think you know everybody.”

All the women here have been to romance book club at least once, and I consider them friends. I don’t know their husbands as well, but I’ve met them at some holiday event or another.

Like June’s husband, Ty, who’s holding their baby while he talks with one of her brothers. Little Lucy’s wearing a hat that looks like a pumpkin top, and her face is nothing but dark eyelashes and chubby cheeks. He’s got her cradled to his chest like his whole world is right there in his hands. It’s too dang cute to see the big rancher so happy.

Or Eliza’s husband, Dean, who’s listening to some animated story she’s telling. He’s a little like Miles—he doesn’t seek out the spotlight in groups like this. But he watches Eliza like she’s got a light all her own.

And then there’s Eden’s husband, Booker, who’s heading straight for us. Because there’s plenty of cuteness to go around, he’s also carrying a baby. Noah’s got a tiny tuft of black curls on the top of his head and the biggest brown eyes you ever saw.

Baby fever is a myth. A myth that’s got me in its grip, urging me to smell both of those babies’ heads, gently press their rounded cheeks, and touch the tiny divots in their sweet little hands. I will not. But only because their fathers are huge, and unsolicited baby-touching feels like a quick way to get thrown out of the party.

Eden joins us with their toddler, Bee, on her hip. “Miles, you know my husband, Booker.”

Miles nods, and the two men shake hands. Booker’s pretty much always got a smile on his face, but this one feels like a kid finding out he’s going to Disneyland.

Or a Disney adult going to Disneyland. I don’t judge.

“I have to ask—are you really the Miles Forrester who wrote the Quantum Station series? I heard it from Eliza, and it feels like the kind of thing she’d say to try to wind me up.”

Miles laughs softly. “It’s true.”

Booker shifts Noah in his arms, and I get the full force of the baby’s adorable, toothless smile.

“Does it make me too much of a fanboy if I tell you they’re two of my favorite science fiction books I’ve ever read?”

Miles’s expression flickers from high to low like a newfound thrill is duking it out with his humility. “Not too much of a fanboy at all. I appreciate hearing that.”

Oh my gosh, this man doesn’t know how to take praise. He struggles enough when I tell him he’s a great boss or when I compliment an idea he’s had for the bookshop. But it’s so much worse when the praise is for his writing.

“I’ve been reading science fiction since I was a kid. I genuinely couldn’t believe the Quantum series is your debut. Nothing against debuts,” he adds quickly. “It just reads like so many of the greats. Not that you lifted anything from them. Your books are totally unique. But familiar, do you know what I mean? But fresh.”

He glances to Eden, and his shoulders sag. “I’m doing the thing, aren’t I?”

She runs a hand over his arm. “A little bit.” She turns to Miles. “We’re just really excited to know…well, that we already know you. Booker because he’s a big fan, and me because I’d love to have you speak at the library sometime.”

“I hadn’t thought about, uh…speaking engagements.” Looks like humility’s winning out again.

“It’d be very casual. We have several writer and reader groups I’m sure would love to hear from you. And we’d be happy to host a meet and greet to feature your books.”

“Well…” My man is lost in a sea of uncertainty.

He’s always willing to step up and help out everyone else, but he doesn’t know how to handle it when someone wants to give some of that attention and support back. He deserves to be celebrated—for his creativity, for his success, for himself .

I slip my hand into his. He looks down at me, and I try to convey all the encouragement and affection I can into my smile. I can be his champion, too.

“No pressure,” Booker adds, adjusting his wiggling baby. “We’re just psyched that you’re part of the family.”

Eden nudges him with her elbow, eyes wide. Her correction is probably more obvious than his blunder.

“Ah, I mean the Magnolia Ridge family,” Booker says.

Nice save, coach.

“I’d like that,” Miles finally says. “We should talk more about it.”

Eden’s soft smile reappears. “That’s great news. We’re not staying long tonight because of these little ones, but I’ll talk to my director at the library and get in touch with you soon.”

Booker leans closer. “If you’re up for it, we started a sci-fi enthusiasts club at the high school a couple of years ago. We mostly talk Star Trek and Star Wars, but it’d be a big thrill for them if you have a chance to join us some night.”

“Really? They know my books?”

Booker’s got a teacherly “duh” face on. “Everybody’s looking forward to book three. We need to know what happens to Aster in the end.”

“You’re going to love it. Best of the trilogy.” I can’t resist sharing a tiny bit of book gossip, however vague. And maybe I want to brag that I’ve already been allowed to read it .

Perks of being Miles Forrester’s…best friend. Slash girlfriend.

“Yeah? So it’s a happy ending?” Booker jokingly narrows his eyes on me. “Sad? Ends on a mystery that will never be solved?”

I put on my most solemn face. “No spoilers.”

“All right, keep your secrets.” He turns back to Miles. “You can think about it and get in touch. We’d love to have you anytime.”

“I will. Thank you.” Miles looks like he’s not quite sure what he’s agreeing to, but he’s willing to try. That’s the most important part.

“Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to go change my little man.” Booker and Eden wander away, heading for the farmhouse across from the barn.

“It’s our turn now.” Eliza’s got her husband by the hand and leads him closer as if they’ve been waiting in line all day. “This is Dean. He loves your books.”

“El,” he says softly.

“You do,” she counters. “You’ve read them both like four times.”

“Three.” He turns to Miles. “My wife is enthusiastic.”

He gazes down at her as if her enthusiasm is his very favorite thing.

“Three reads is a lot to me,” Miles says.

“I can’t believe I bought them from the man who actually wrote them.”

Eliza pipes up. “Miles is sneaky. Like someone else I know.”

“I don’t want to make this weird?—”

“I’m more than willing to do it for you.”

Dean smiles down at her before turning his attention back to Miles. “I don’t read a lot of fiction. Booker makes recommendations now and then, and…well. I’m glad I read yours.”

Eliza shakes her head. “We should have rehearsed this. He means your books are hilarious and twisty and impossible to put down and full of super cool characters and a couple of really awful villains who we hope get theirs in the end.”

Dean nods. “What she said.”

“Also, is Aster ever going to get with his second in command or is that just a merciless tease at this point?”

Miles laughs.

“No spoilers,” we say at the same time.

“Talking in unison already? That’s fun.” She bobs her eyebrows at me. “We’re going to go snag the best blankets before Harper and Sam get there. We’re glad you’re here, Miles.”

They grab some snacks and head into the yard on the shortest route to the set of blankets farthest from the screen.

“Can the babies come back and talk to me?” Miles says when they’re gone.

He looks adrift at sea, like his cruise ship sailed away without him, and he’s all alone on the vast ocean on an inner tube. I step closer to his side and put a hand on his chest.

“Are you okay with all this?” This man needs to be clapped and cheered, but I don’t want to make him actively uncomfortable. I just want him to see how much he’s adored.

“Yeah.” His stunned expression breaks, and his sweet smile peeks out. “I’m…processing.”

“Which part?” Hopefully not the “Welcome to the family” bit Booker accidentally threw in there. Premature much?

“Having readers? Writing’s a lonely job sometimes. I talk to the people in my head and make them come alive on the page, but that’s solo work. I have some online writer groups I’ve connected with and a critique partner I trust. I hear from my editor and my agent now and then, but I’ve mostly been removed from the reader experience. This is…new.”

“Good new or bad new? ”

Honestly, he still looks pretty stunned. “Awkward, but really good.”

“Can we please plan a meet and greet at the store? I know you’ve got more local readers who would show up just to say hi and get a book signed. Put yourself out there a bit. Give people a chance to show how much they love you and your books.”

“I don’t know how an event like that will go. I’m used to blending into the background.”

“Well, that’s too bad, Miles Forrester. You are not a background guy. You are the main character. You’re the star of the show all the way.”

He goes on watching me like I’m the star of the show.

“Seriously. And not just because of your career or the bookshop, but because you are the kindest, most thoughtful, most generous?—”

He leans down and cuts me off with a kiss. It’s brief, but his huge smile when he pulls away says it all.

“You’re right. We should have a meet and greet. I need to get my social media started—one platform is probably all I can handle, though. But I should to be out there somewhere so I can talk to readers. And more writers. Basically, I need to stop trying to do it all on my own.”

Am I grinning up at him like a goofball? Yup. I do not care. “I should probably be jealous that I’ll have to share you.”

He dips his head closer to mine again. “You never have to share.”

Because I can’t have nice things, Sam walks over to interrupt our moment, disintegrating the butterflies bouncing around in my chest. He’s wearing the biggest smirk ever while he loads up a plate with snacks.

“Miles, I think it’s only fair to warn you.” His intro hits an ominous note. “You’ve got a reputation in the family.”

Miles looks from me to Sam. “Because of Willa’s party? ”

He nods. “I was at Grandpa’s last week, and Dad turned up while I was there. He told us how you called him out for how he talked to Georgia.”

Miles squeezes my hand tighter. “I did.”

Ooh, I do love me some defiant Miles. Super rare item, but worth a small fortune.

My brother grins again. “Well done. Dad actually thought we’d take his side in it. I think it shocked him when Grandpa said you were completely in the right.”

I wish I could have heard that, to be honest. Grandpa’s the best.

“Hopefully he’ll start to see it, too,” Miles says.

I don’t need Dad to see it anymore. Having Grandpa, Sam, and Miles in my corner is more than enough.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath. Dad’s not in the business of accepting when he’s wrong.” Sam finishes loading his plate. “But hey, Willa loves that stuffed axolotl you gave her, and Finn never shuts up about how great you are at board games. So you’ve got all of the important Donnellys covered.”

He winks at me and leaves us to join Harper.

June’s little nephews start running around, yelling at everyone that it’s dark enough to start the movie. Miles and I grab some food and select our blankets. The camp chairs in the very back would probably be more comfortable, but they don’t offer the same snuggle opportunities that being together on a blanket does.

We sit side by side, and I pull a quilt over our legs while we wait for Ty to start up the movie projector.

Miles is quiet. Not unusual for him, but it leaves my stomach unsettled anyway. I did bring him here, knowing full well he’d be accosted by a couple of fans and harassed by my well-meaning brother at a minimum. Then there’s the “welcome to the family” of it all .

“Was this a lot?” I whisper. “Did my family and friends make you question the wisdom of joining me at events like this?”

My attempt at a casual laugh comes out too high-pitched. Tell me you’re not joking without telling me you’re not joking.

Miles turns to face me. This close, we’re practically within kissing distance. Which I hope is still on the table.

He blinks, like he needs a second to process my question. “I was watching the little kids.”

He nods toward the barn, where June’s nephews are doing some coordinated move that must be the latest elementary school dance craze. Right in front of them, hogging the spotlight, their little sister shimmies her butt.

She’s actually got some decent moves for a three-year-old.

“Oh. They’re the opening act.”

“They belong to…” he prompts.

“June’s brother.” I point off to the side where Wade and Annie are already cuddled up on a blanket.

“Her other brother is over there.” I gesture toward Jed, who’s fussing over his wife and making sure she’s comfortable in her camp chair. The way he looks at her, you’d never guess the guy was once a sworn commitment-phobe. “You know Callie from romance book group.”

“Right. He’s the one from Evans Orchards. Best peaches in town. Mom used to buy from their family for her bakery.”

“Oops—forehead kiss. Time to look away before he moves on to other kiss locations.” I’ve been around them enough to know it’s inevitable.

Miles moves his arm around my back, resting his hand on my hip. “I never had this kind of big family closeness. I’ve got two older cousins, but they’ve been in Houston since college, and don’t visit a lot. ”

“I never had it either. I’m lucky all of these siblings and cousins adopted me into their group.”

Miles kisses my temple. “They’re lucky to have you be a part of it.”

I think my heart does a full cartwheel.

The movie finally starts, and Miles points out the very brief moment Jack Skellington appears as a scarecrow.

“I can’t believe I never realized that’s what he is.”

“Selective perception,” he says, snuggling me closer. “You didn’t want to see it because you already liked him. Knowing the truth would have ruined it for you.”

“Okay, Mr. Science.”

He kisses my face again. “That’s Mr. Science Fiction to you.”

I lose track of the movie pretty quickly. Not just because snuggling under a blanket with Miles is an absolute delight, but because that phrase he used keeps clattering around in my head. Selective perception.

Maybe it’s true. Here I am, surrounded by a bunch of happy, committed couples. Couples who are exactly what Harper and Eliza told me a few weeks ago—each other’s biggest supports, best friends, and champions. People who see past the mess and the imperfections to the best version possible of the other person.

I rest my head on Miles’s shoulder and watch as Jack opens Sally’s gift of an ethereal butterfly.

Maybe not all love is fictional, after all.

Miles helps me carry the leftover treats Ty sent us off with into my apartment. Somehow I brought home more goodies than I took out to the ranch.

“I’m going to throw all of this into a dish and make candy casserole,” I tell Miles.

“And people say a vegetarian diet is unhealthy.”

“My dentist loves it.” I swallow. “Thanks for coming tonight and putting up with everything.”

“I had a great time. Thanks for not getting mad I ruined one of your favorite movies.”

I chuckle. “You didn’t ruin anything. You make everything better.”

And then we’re silent. Watching each other. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but it is…charged.

“Do you…” I start.

“Yes.”

No notes. Just yes.

We snap together in a hungry kiss, his hand at the back of my head, mine clutching at his shoulders. He slips his other hand around my waist, pulling me as close as possible. I love Miles for exactly who he is, reserve and all, but I really, really like it when he’s bold.

He takes charge in a way he doesn’t often let himself do out in the real world, and I’m more than happy to follow where he leads. His heated touch consumes me like a wildfire until there’s only sensation—his mouth on mine, my hands tracing down his chest, the weight of his arm around my back.

He slows the pace, relaxing his grip on me and gentling his movements. His deliberate caresses are a conversation all on their own. I care for you. You’re precious to me. This is entirely real.

Awareness spreads through me, aching and soothing at the same time. I’ve had the perfect match right here and didn’t even know. He’s better than my imagination, or a book hero, or even an actual special ops guy. I don’t want any of them—I only want my best friend.

He takes a detour along my jaw and down my neck. Curse this gloriously chunky sweater that stops him on his path before he can reach my collar bone. He traces his way back up, and when he kisses behind my ear, I think I’ve melted. No thoughts. Just a smooth brain, here to enjoy his caresses and nothing else.

He returns to my mouth for a tender kiss and then touches his forehead to mine. “I should probably go.”

I’m tempted to tell him to stay. So tempted. But we don’t need to rush. We’ve known each other five years, yes, but our bigger feelings only started developing a couple of weeks ago. We can spare a little more time to sort those out.

Plus, I am the novice to end all novices. So. Slow is good.

“Smart.” I run my hands down his shoulders to grip his biceps. That MMA training does quality work.

One of his eyebrows darts up. “Do you need a minute alone with my biceps?”

“Yes.” I squeeze them a little more. I’m brazenly feeling him up and I regret nothing.

He laughs softly. “Maybe I should return the favor.”

His hands slip from my back around to my shoulders, down past my honestly not-that-impressive biceps to land on my elbows.

“You’re right,” he says, eyes alight. “Elbows are sexy.”

I laugh and pull out of his grasp. “For that, I’m going to throw you out.”

“It was genuine. I think everything about you is sexy.” He narrows the distance between us to lightly kiss my mouth. “And beautiful.” He kisses one cheek. “And marvelous.” The other.

I cross my arms over my thumping heart. “Well. Then I suppose it’s okay. ”

He just smiles at my pretend pout. I’m not that great of an actress.

“Goodnight, my Georgia.”

But seriously, when did this man learn to be so swoony? Did he take online courses, and I never knew?

“That’s not fair, though. I can’t say ‘Goodnight, my Miles’ in return. The alliteration sounds goofy.”

Even though right now, the only thing I want to say is “my Miles.”

“How about ‘Goodnight, the Miles?’”

I put my hands on his shoulders and steer him backwards toward the door. “Goodnight, ‘skating on thin ice’ Miles.”

I pull open the door and he stops just inside the threshold. “Goodnight, ‘one last kiss’ Miles?”

I pretend to mull it over for as long as I can manage. Which is about six-point-three seconds. I lean up to press a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth.

He grins like Willa seeing her ornate pi?atas.

“Goodnight, my Georgia,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, my Miles.”