“On second thought, I think I’m about to come down with that violent stomach bug.” I tugged against his arm as we stepped onto the pathway that led toward the farmhouse.
Miles didn’t even slow, just kept pulling me along beside him. “You’re so strait-laced at school. I had no idea you were such a liar.”
“I don’t want to be with your parents like this. They think we’re really dating.”
“So do your parents.”
I didn’t know why that was different, but it felt different. My mom wanted to set me up with Glenn Foster. Miles’s mom was a sweetheart who probably chained herself up to save trees in her spare time.
“I just don’t want to lie.”
Finally, he stopped and turned to me. “Then don’t lie.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “We’re here together, so technically we’re on a date. We hung out all day. We were together last night, so this is basically our third date. We’re dating.”
“But we’re not,” I insisted.
Laughter sprang into his eyes as he moved closer, leaning toward me slightly. “Should I do something to make it more official?”
My mouth suddenly filled with moisture at his words. Or perhaps it was the way he kept glancing pointedly toward my mouth. Or maybe it was the quirk of his teasing lips while he was, no doubt, watching me internally freak out. I took a step back and placed a hand on his chest to keep him from moving closer.
He only chuckled. “Listen. It’s just ice cream with my parents. There won’t be a lie detector test, I promise. They probably won’t ask us anything about it.”
For the record, that was a bold-faced lie.
SIXTEEN
“Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while.”
L.M. Montgomery - Anne of Green Gables
From the moment Miles ushered me through the front door, we were greeted with hugs and smiles from his parents and a surprise cheek kiss from his mom. A passerby would have never guessed we had just seen them all day at the lodge. The Taylor home was earthy and inviting. Soft browns and creams and greens trickled seamlessly through each room. Though not the latest styles anymore, the house felt comfortable. Clean and tidy, but also lived in. The kind of home you could bring children to and not worry about them touching every little thing. In the living room, Miles tossed our coats onto the back of a couch and followed his parents toward a swinging door. We passed by several inviting picture frames filled with images of a young Miles that I vowed to examine closer upon our exit. Miles leaned forward to push the door open for me, pressing his hand lightly against my upper back to propel me forward.
Heat zinged my skin. He kept his hand there, guiding me into the kitchen and into a well-loved chair. The rustic oak table in front of us was littered with ice cream cartons and every topping imaginable. He sat next to me as he stretched his arm out across the back of my chair. His thigh brushed against mine and stayed there so casually, shooting electrical shocks up my veins. His parents took the seats across from us and began dishing up ice cream. Jett wandered into the kitchen from another doorway and grinned at me as he grabbed a bowl of ice cream and loaded it with crushed cookies and chocolate sauce before sauntering back out of the room, in true teenager fashion.
“We’re so happy you came, Olive,” Sandy said, beaming at me. “It’s been years since Miles brought a girl home. Not since—" She broke off abruptly, her eyes flitting toward Miles briefly before she recovered quickly. A look passed between the two, but the moment was gone as quickly as it started. “I just think it’s so fun that Miles hid the whole thing from you. And us.”
Jack laughed. “I was even quizzing her on our tractor ride about setting her up with my son, Miles. Had no clue they were already dating. Call that intuition. I had a feeling about her the second I saw her.”
“So did I,” said Sandy.
I gave the best smile I could muster. Their words were causing me to fidget and rendered me unable to meet Miles’s eyes.
“How did you hear about us, if not from Miles?” Sandy asked, scooping a carton of ice cream.
I chuckled lightly. “A scheming mutual friend.”
“Remind me to give Millie a hug when we get back,” Miles said, looking over at me with an expression that could only be described as sweet, which reminded me that we were now acting.
“How’s the blackout going?” Jack asked while his wife filled my bowl with four large scoops of vanilla ice cream. I mean, I loved ice cream as much as the next girl, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had that much. I was a polite, one-scoop-only type of girl in a public setting.
Once finished, she passed me the bowl. “Help yourself with whatever toppings you’d like. Don’t be shy now.”
“So far, we’re right on track,” Miles said, accepting his bowl—five large scoops in his. “Olive was begging to do the polar plunge last night, so everything else should be easy.” I smiled and poked him hard in the leg as I contemplated between slathering my ice cream with caramel sauce or maple syrup. “And she’s excited to drink fresh chocolate milk straight from the barn.”
“No, I’m not!” I announced boldly, making them all laugh.
“You’re not excited? It’s our special chocolate milk for guests,” Jack said. Though his words sounded hurt, he had a delighted twinkle in his gaze that reminded me of his rascally son.
I tentatively poured a tiny bit of maple syrup on my ice cream. Another nudge from Miles made my arm pour about three times the amount I had anticipated into my bowl.
At my withering stare, he only grinned boyishly, whispering, “Trust me.”
We settled in to enjoy our dessert. Miles and I sat on one side of the table with his parents lounging across from us. He had removed his arm from my chair so he could eat, and it felt like something was missing. Which was crazy. I also hated to admit it, but the extra maple syrup really took the ice cream to a whole new level. I eyed the extra candy bar toppings and whipped cream sitting in the middle of the table with fondness but refrained.
“Do you make your own maple syrup?” I asked.
Jack beamed at me. “We used to, but it became too hard to keep up when we expanded. We buy most of what we use here from Morse Farm down the road. Has Miles taken you there yet? You can walk all through their trees and see the whole process. ‘Course now, everything is covered in snow, but you can still tour the place and try some samples. Make sure Miles buys you a maple creme.”
I smiled. Growing up in New Hampshire, I wasn’t ignorant of the process of making maple syrup, but for some reason, I had always found the maple farms fascinating. “It sounds amazing.”
Miles looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “It’s a date.”
I swallowed and looked down at my now dwindling bowl. Miles reached across the table, his arm brushing mine for a second while he added more crushed cookies to his ice cream. Tentatively, I waited for him to put the spoon back before adding a few to my own bowl.
“So, Miles told us a little about how you two met, but how did it officially happen?” Sandy asked me, beaming.
The smile on my face froze as I glanced at Miles. He raised his eyebrows at me and nodded toward his parents as if to say, Go right ahead and tell the story, Celery Stick.