Regretting You(66)

He shrugs. “Not really. Fourth place cut deep. They only post the top three finalists to YouTube. No one cares about fourth place. I decided me and you are going for gold.” He leans in and kisses me, then pulls back and takes another bite of his sandwich. “Does it bother you that I kiss you so much?” He’s talking with his mouth full, but it’s kind of adorable.

“What a strange thing for a person to be bothered by. Of course not.”

“Good.”

“I like that you’re an affectionate person.”

He shakes his head, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “That’s just it, though. I’m not. I wasn’t like this with Shelby.”

“Why is it different with me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out. I just crave you more than I’ve ever craved anything in my life.”

That comment makes me smile, but I raise a teasing eyebrow. “I don’t know, Miller. You were pretty damn stoked for your sandwich.”

He has half a sandwich still left to eat, but as soon as I say that, he stands up and walks over to a nearby trash can and tosses it inside. He sits back down. “That sandwich meant nothing to me. I’d take your tongue in my mouth over that sandwich any day.”

I crinkle up my nose and pull back. “Was that supposed to be sexy? Because it wasn’t.”

He laughs and pulls me closer to him, pressing his mouth to mine. It’s not a sweet kiss, though. This one is full of tongue. And . . . bread.

I push him away. “You still have food in your mouth!” I fake gag and take a sip of my drink.

His drink is already empty, so he takes mine from me and drinks some of it.

A moment later, he looks longingly over at the trash can and sighs. “I threw it away to make a point, but I really wanted to eat the rest of it.” He looks back at me. “Would it be gross if I dug it back out of the trash?”

I laugh. “Yes. And I’d never kiss you again.” I slide him the rest of my sandwich. “Here. You can eat the rest of mine. I’m not even hungry.”

He takes my sandwich and eats it, then finishes off my drink. He gathers all the trash and throws it away, then returns to the picnic table and straddles the bench again, sliding me closer to him. He presses his forehead to mine and smiles, then pulls back, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I think I’m psychic. I knew we would be good together, Clara.”

“You aren’t psychic. We’ve been together for less than a week. It could go downhill before tomorrow.”

“It won’t, though. I have a good feeling about us.”

“That’s just attraction. It’s not a sixth sense.”

“You think that’s all this is? Attraction?”

“What else would it be? We barely know each other.”

“I gave up half a sandwich for you. That’s way more than attraction.”

I laugh at his persistence. “You’re right. That was a pretty grand gesture.” I lean in and kiss him, but when I start to pull back, he moves forward, unwilling to break the kiss. I turn my body toward him and lean into his mouth.

I normally wouldn’t be this affectionate with him in public, but we’re the only ones out here. For a food truck that makes such amazing sandwiches, I’m surprised it’s not busier than it is.

Miller finally pulls away from me and glances at the camera. “We should stop. You’re underage, and I could get arrested if this turns into a porno.”

I love how much he makes me laugh when I don’t feel like laughing.



Before we left the food truck, Miller ordered his gramps a sandwich. He hands it to him when we walk into the living room.

“Is this what I think it is?” Gramps asks.

“One and only.”

The grin on Gramps’s face makes me smile. “I ever tell you you’re my favorite grandson?”

“I’m your only grandson,” Miller says. He takes his grandpa’s glass and walks it to the kitchen to refill it.

“That’s why you’re inheriting everything I own,” Gramps says.

Miller laughs. “A lot of air, apparently.”

Gramps turns to me. “Clara, right?” He’s unwrapping his sandwich. I take a seat in one of the green chairs and nod.

“I ever tell you about the time Miller was fifteen and we were at the school—” A hand comes around Gramps’s chair and rips his sandwich away. Gramps looks down at his empty hand. “What the hell?” Gramps says to Miller.

Miller takes a seat in the other green chair, holding his grandpa’s food hostage. “Promise me you won’t repeat that story, and I’ll give you back your sandwich.”

“Come on, Miller.” I groan. “This is twice you’ve stopped me from hearing it.”

Gramps looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, Clara. I would tell you, but have you ever had a Mac?”

I nod in understanding. “It’s okay. One of these days I’ll come over when Miller isn’t here so you can finish telling me.”

Miller hands Gramps back his sandwich. “Clara and I have a project to work on. We’ll be in my room.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Gramps says. “I was seventeen once.”