Joel miller

He watches as you read your book, the sun warming your skin. It’s the first truly nice day of the year—warm enough that you can sit on the porch of Joel’s cabin, only wearing one of his flannels over your cotton dress. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, and a slight crease forms between your brows as your eyes scan the pages.  The sight alone is enough to send Joel’s blood further south than it should be.