Free New Point by Olivia Luck Page B

making?”
    He playfully nudges me with his shoulder. “Why don’t you go over there and check it out.”
    Two cuts of steak and corn cook inside the stainless steel grill. They’re not ready quite yet. I settle the lid closed and whirl around to find Miles standing next to the same table I had breakfast with Blake yesterday. It’s been set for two, down to the placemats and cutlery.
    “Beer? Wine?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle chilling on the table.
    “You were pretty confident I’d give you another shot,” I state, walking over and tugging two longneck bottles from a cooler near his feet. He swipes the beers away and opens them. Secretly I’m impressed he went to all the trouble.
    “What woman can resist homemade brownies?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
    “Brownies, you say?” I shift around him to inspect the table. He’s not lying, there’s a complete dinner; a green salad, horseradish dipping sauce for the steak, and, yes, brownies.
    “Made them myself. I had plenty of time to plot how to get back in your good graces while I was cooking.”
    I cross my arms over my chest and settle my hip against one of the chairs. “Business owner, super uncle, chef… Is there anything you don’t do well?”
    He reaches out, tangles our fingers together, and lifts my hand to brush his lips across the back of my hand. My knees wobble slightly, and I lock them in place.
    “Apparently, when it comes to romancing you, I’m not so smooth. That’s about to change, though.”
    “How?” He hasn’t let go of my hand, our fingers linking us together in the space between our bodies.
    “Once you eat my brownies, you won’t be able to resist me.”
    I snort (very unladylike) out a laugh, dropping his hand to cover my nose. “We’ll see about that.”
    “You’re cute. Especially when your snort.” He shakes his head, muttering something unintelligible. “Sit. Our dinner should be ready.” He gently pulls my body away from the chair then grabs the back to pull it out for me.
    “Such a gentleman,” I murmur.
    “It’s new for me too,” he says mysteriously.
    Miles plates the food, grandly presenting the dinner at my place setting. I giggle at his grandiose gesture.
    Yes, I giggle. I can’t remember the last time I shared my laughter freely.
    “Are you always like this?”
    “Like what?” He sits in the chair opposite from me.
    “Silly.”
    “When I’m around you I feel…light, so I guess playfulness is part of that.” He shrugs and lifts his beer.
    I nod. It makes sense because whenever he’s near, I lose sight of the dark cloud that’s been my perpetual shadow.
    Miles’ eyes meet mine. “To silliness and new beginnings,” he says huskily, all humor out of his voice.
    Since Clinton Smith stared me down at Clarkes Elementary School, I’ve avoided direct eye contact with others. I didn’t want to find pity in my brother’s worried expression or curiosity in the eyes of the security team assigned to watch out for me. Even Dr. Greene watched me with unchecked sympathy at times. I hated that Clinton changed the way people looked at me, so I kept eye contact to a minimum. With Miles, I can’t help but stare into the depths of his cocoa-colored eyes. Instead of looking at me like I might collapse from a stiff wind, Miles watches me attentively. He draws me in, and I’m unable to escape his hold.
    I don’t want to escape.
    “Cheers,” I finally reply, tapping my bottle to his.
    Miles takes a swallow of his beer, and instead of doing the same, I admire the strong column of this muscular neck.
    “Is there something on my face?” he teases.
    Dang it. I’m caught.
    “No,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat when I swig from the bottle.
    “I stare too,” he admits without shame. “When I caught you unaware on your deck, when I spotted you across the bar with your brother… I couldn’t help but watch you.”
    “Oh,” I stutter, almost dropping the serving spoons into the salad bowl.
    He