LOVE IS HERE TO STAY ━━ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
summary: growing up in a town where people looked up to you is fulfilling, given to the long political history of your family but then your peace was interrupted when a man named joel miller is opinionated to how you lead and decide, making you to hate him. but then of course, hate is a strong word when you slowly realize that he's more than to how you perceive him.
author's note: #rip to my other joel miller one shots (tho i will finish them soon) but i'm planning to finish this right away because this is out of nowhere and i just want the reader to be an ultimate rage baiter and modern!joel is just patient and lowkey pathetic for the reader hehe!!! so this mini series is split in two and this is basically slowburn. its enemies to lovers (based to taming of the shrew by william shakespeare and pride & prejudice by. jane austen) andddd tension/angst yall!!! and just a note! reader is in her late twenties/early thirties.
“Seriously, can you just step away from your pride for one second?” your sister said, arms folded as she hovered by your desk.
You didn’t look up to your sister. The soft clack of keys filled the room as you pushed through the last paragraph of the report. “Do you think I have time for that?” you muttered, eyes fixed on the screen.
On the corner of your desk sat the manila envelope. Joel Miller’s proposal that is unopened and it's still placed exactly where you’d left it a week ago.
It was about the tree across the street from Mrs. Lewis’s house wasn’t just some hazard to you. It was one of the last old ones on the block and basically, one of the few things that reminds the past. It cooled the street in summer, soaked up rain when the storms came hard, and stood there quietly while the town rebuilt itself piece by piece. Cutting it down felt like another unnecessary loss.
Your sister followed your gaze. “You’re really not gonna read it?”
“I already know what it says,” you replied. “Remove the tree. Problem solved.”
“Joel says it’s dangerous.”
“Joel says a lot of things.”
That earned you a look. “You’re letting that meeting get to you.”
Your hands paused over the keyboard.
The board meeting came back in flashes where you saw Joel standing near the back at first, arms crossed and jaw tight as he’s biding his time to speak, until everyone asked his opinion about the tree.
“With all due respect,” he’d said, voice calm but edged, “That tree is a liability.”
You’d met his stare without blinking. “It’s been standing there longer than any of us.”
“And it’s already caused damage,” he shot back. “The last tornado took half of Mrs. Lewis’s roof clean off. You line it up with the tree, it’s not hard to see why.”
“Correlation isn’t causation,” you said sharply. “We don’t start cutting down trees every time there’s a storm.”
Joel exhaled through his nose, like he was trying not to lose patience. “Lightning hits the tallest thing around. That tree is the tallest thing on that street.”
“And removing it fixes everything?” you challenged. “What happens next time? Another tree? Another house?”
Someone at the table cleared their throat. “Let’s keep this civil.”
Joel didn’t take his eyes off you. “I’m just saying, this decision doesn’t feel objective.”
The room went silent and you could feel the eyes of the board members looking at you, waiting for you to reply. It’s quite ironic that the only person who has the guts to give their opinions out loud and without fear is Joel Miller, the rest would just agree. Well, you have a long history of successful charity drives, community work and projects, so there’s no doubt that people do trust you despite you being the youngest.
You leaned forward then, palms flat on the table. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“I’m saying you might be too close to this,” he replied. “You don’t like me. That’s fine but this affects everyone.”
That was when it tipped you over.
“I’ve been taking care of this community since the day I was born in here,” you said, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck. “While you were passing through, I was organizing with the government, securing resources, and helping families who are in need.”
Joel’s jaw tightened but you kept going. “Every project I’ve led has worked. So forgive me if I don’t jump the moment you decide something needs fixing.”
He finally looked away, shaking his head slightly. “This ain’t about me.”
“Then stop making it sound like I’m failing,” you snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, the only solution you ever seem to offer is tearing something down that is valuable in the community.”
Silence followed in the room. You can hear the heavy sigh of your sister who is sitting near you. In all of the community meetings, both of you and Joel Miller would head butt, so most board members are urging them to be civil as they might begin division inside the community. Well, Joel Miller is relatively new in your town for a few years, but then, he’s much more vocal to how things should happen but of course for a woman like you who basically did everything without any help from anyone, you felt he’s overstepping your boundaries and to how you lead.
Back in the present, your sister sighed softly. “You really went for the throat.”
“And you accused him of being useless.”
You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. “I didn’t say useless.”
Your sister’s voice was calm, almost too calm, like she was trying not to step on something fragile between you. She didn’t move from where she stood, just watched you the way only someone who knew you inside and out could.
You let out a breath through your nose, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard now. “He implied I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said. “In front of the entire board.”
“That’s not what he said.”
“That's what he meant.” You said defensively.
You finally turned in your chair, the report forgotten. “He’s been here three years. And suddenly everyone’s looking at him like he’s the authority on how this place should run.”
Your sister tilted her head. “And that scares you?”
“It pisses me off,” you shot back.
Joel Miller hadn’t grown up here. He hadn’t sat through town halls as a kid, watching your mother argue for funding with a calm, steady voice that somehow always won people over. He hadn’t spent weekends hauling donated supplies or watching neighbors rebuild each other’s homes after storms. He arrived already grown, already opinionated, and acted like that was enough.
Your family name meant something in this town and you know damn well that your family earned it.
Your mother wasn’t just a mayor; she was the mayor. She led for three consecutive terms and up until now, people still compared every new official to her like a measuring stick no one could quite live up to. She remembered birthdays, knew which roads flooded first, which families needed help but were too proud to ask. When she stepped down, people cried. Because of your mother’s reputation, your family was still asked for an opinion like it carried hers by default.
And yet, you never wanted that seat.
You’d choose NGOs and community-focused work that didn’t require shaking hands or running campaigns. Corporate consulting paid the bills, and working from home gave you freedom to stay rooted here, to help without turning it into a performance. You weren’t a politician like your mother but you made sure that you were always present.
So when people started turning to Joel, it felt like erasure.
He fixed roofs. He reinforced fences. He showed up with tools and a no-nonsense tone that made people feel safe. And somehow, that was enough to make them listen when he spoke in meetings.
“You know what annoys me?” you said quietly. “They ask him for opinions. Like that’s all it takes. He says something confidently and suddenly it’s gospel.”
Your sister sighed. “He’s helpful.”
Instead, she said, “You don’t like how easy it is for him.”
Joel Miller didn’t charm people with speeches but he did it by standing there, arms crossed, saying things like they were simple truths. And people just trusted him, men trusted him, women trusted him and even the older folks who were usually suspicious of newcomers nodded along like he’d always belonged.
It made you uneasy. People who slid in that smoothly always did.
“I don’t trust him,” you admitted. “I don’t trust someone who gains influence that fast.”
Your sister gave you a look. “You sound paranoid.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been suspicious of him since day one.”
Because he questioned you. Because he didn’t defer like everyone else on the board. Because he didn’t soften his tone when he spoke to you the way most people did, aware of your family and your history.
And for some reason, he treated you like an equal and sometimes like an obstacle.
“And then there’s the way he talks in meetings,” you continued. “Like he’s correcting me. Like I’m missing something obvious.”
“He was making a safety argument.”
“And I was making an environmental one,” you snapped. “But somehow his opinion gets framed as practical and mine as emotional.”
That earned a pause from your sister. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. All those years watching your mother fight to be taken seriously, learning how to speak clearly, firmly, and without giving anyone an opening to dismiss her, you’d internalized every lesson.
And still, Joel Miller walked in and made you feel like you were being challenged in your own house.
“He oversteps,” you said again, more quietly this time. “He doesn’t get to do that.”
“You’re not wrong to protect your leadership. But you are wrong,” she added gently, “if you think this is just about a tree.”
You let out a breath that sounded more like a scoff. Slowly, you turned your chair toward her. “Then what is it about?” you asked. “Because the way you’re talking right now—” you gestured vaguely at her “—it sounds like you’ve gone soft on Joel Miller.”
Her lips twitched, and then she laughed. “I wouldn’t say soft.”
She pushed herself off the desk and leaned against the wall instead, arms crossing loosely. “I talked to him,” she said.
“When he first came to town. Three years ago.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t anything dramatic. He came by asking about the neighborhood and the school. Wanted to know where he could get supplies without driving an hour out.”
Your chest tightened. “And you never told me?”
She met your stare, unflinching. Then she gave you that look—the one that said she already knew exactly how that conversation would’ve gone.
“You wouldn’t have liked it,” she said simply.
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it was my choice to avoid a fight.”
You shook your head, pacing now, the floor creaking beneath your steps. “So you just decided on your own that he was fine.”
“I decided he was harmless,” she corrected. “Actually, more than that. He’s a good man.”
You stopped short. “You don’t know him.”
“I know enough,” she said. “He’s a single father. A really good one.”
That made you pause. She continued, softer now. “Sarah, his daughter, is close to Lily. They spend half their time together and Joel has no problem letting my daughter have sleepovers with Sarah.”
You swallowed, irritation mixing with something uncomfortably close to doubt.
“And if that wasn’t enough,” she added, “Joel and my husband grab beers sometimes. Just at the house, nothing fancy.”
You turned to her slowly. “You’re telling me my own family has been bonding with him and no one thought to tell me?”
She sighed. “Because every time his name comes up, you tense. You shut down.”
“Because I don’t trust him.”
“Because you don’t like him,” she countered gently.
You opened your mouth, then closed it. Your jaw tightened instead.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she went on. “He helps and shows up. He doesn’t pretend to be more than he is.”
“And yet everyone asks him for advice,” you snapped. “About things I’ve been handling since before he ever set foot here.”
Her gaze softened. “That’s what this is about.”
You crossed your arms. “I’ve earned my place here.”
“No one’s taking that away from you.”
You stayed silent but she stepped closer now, lowering her voice like she was afraid the walls might hear. “You don’t like that someone new has a voice. I totally get it because you’ve carried this place on your back for years but pushing him out because of that? That’s not fair for him.”
You shook your head. “I don’t have time to be friends with Joel Miller,” you said flatly. “I’ve got deadlines, NGO work, community planning which I remind you, are the real responsibilities. I can’t afford to play nice and drink beers with someone like Joel Miller.”
Her mouth curved into a sad smile. “Being open doesn’t mean being careless.”
“And being cautious isn’t arrogance.”
She studied you for a long moment, then nodded. “I just don’t want you fighting ghosts.”You looked past her, out the window. The tree stood there, tall and rooted, branches rustling quietly in the wind. But the idea that Joel Miller had already woven himself into your family, your beloved town without you noticing? That unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.
It was Friday night when you finally finished your work, the report was sent and the last email answered. You closed your laptop and leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling for a long moment while the quiet atmosphere settled in. Your shoulders ached from sitting the whole afternoon, you damned the head office for asking the figure right away when it's not yet half of the year. Your head throbbed, too many decisions, too many people pulling at you from every direction.
You needed a drink for tonight, maybe one bottle of beer that would help you sleep.
The town bar felt like the easiest escape so you grabbed your jacket right away and decided to walk. The night air was cool, carrying the low hum of cicadas and the faint glow of porch lights lining the street.
You didn’t realize where you were until you reached his block.
Joel Miller’s garage was open, light spilling onto the driveway. He was bent over the hood of his pickup, sleeves rolled up, hands buried in the engine. Metal clinked softly as he worked and you could smell oil hung in the air.
You slowed down your steps, you wondered if his house is the only one that you haven’t visited. Then you noticed that he wore a gray shirt, darkened with sweat and streaked with grease. Smudges marked his neck, his jaw and his forearms. And your eyes looked through his hands, they were rough and calloused, moved with practiced ease.
He looked disheveled, tired and unfairly attractive. Goddamn it.
You frowned at yourself for thinking such things and kept walking.
But like he sensed it as if it was his sixth sense—Joel straightened and looked up.
Your eyes met, it lasted barely a second, but your heart slammed hard against your ribs, sudden and violent. You looked away immediately and picked up your pace, annoyed at yourself for reacting at all.
You were almost past his porch when you heard him calling your name.
“Hey,” he called. “—hey. Wait.”
You stopped at the sidewalk. You sighed heavily, shoulders dropping as you turned back. Joel wiped his hands on a rag as he stepped closer.
For a moment, you were stupidly aware of how close he was. Of the grease on his skin. Of the way his voice sounded different out here.
You cleared your throat. “What do you want, Miller?”
Straight to the point and in typical fashion from you, Joel knew that your tone is expected.
His mouth twitched slightly. “Have you had a chance to read the proposal I gave you last week?” he asked. “I haven’t heard anything.”
You crossed your arms. “I’m busy. I’ll let you know if I’ve read it at the next meeting.”
“If,” he echoed, one eyebrow lifting.
Your eyes snapped to his. “Don’t push it, Miller.”
“I’m not,” he said calmly. “I just need to know where you stand.”
“I’ve made my position clear.”
“You’ve made your opposition clear,” he corrected. “Not your reasoning.”
That struck a nerve with you. He surely knows how to push the right buttons to you.
“You don’t get to interrogate me on my street,” you said sharply. “Especially not after the way you spoke to me in that meeting.”
His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t trying to undermine you.”
“You questioned my judgment.”
“I questioned the decision.”
“In front of everyone.” Silence stretched between you, thick and charged from the tension that is already brewing between the two of you. The truck’s engine ticked softly behind him.
Joel scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, smearing grease along his skin. “Why don’t you like me?” he asked suddenly.
The question caught you off guard.
“That’s none of your business,” you replied instantly, almost defensive.
He didn’t flinch. “It affects how you hear me. So yeah, kinda is.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “You really don’t know when to stop.”
“I’m tryin’ to understand,” he said. “Because from where I’m standin’, you decided you didn’t trust me before I ever gave you a reason.”
Your chest tightened. “You don’t get trust by default, Miller.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you don’t get suspicion either.”
You stepped closer without meaning to, heat creeping into your voice. “You walked into this town and people started listening to you like you’d earned it. Like I hadn’t already put in the work.”
“You overstep,” you cut in. “You speak like you know better. Like I’m reckless for disagreeing with you.”
Joel’s eyes darkened. “I speak because people could get hurt.”
“And I speak because I care about what happens after,” you shot back. “About the consequences you don’t stay around long enough to see.”
He studied you carefully now. “So you don’t trust me,” he said. Not accusing you but stating it.
You hesitated only a fraction of a second but he noticed your reaction.
“No,” you said finally. “I don’t.”
Joel nodded slowly, absorbing it. “Alright.”
That calm acceptance unsettled you more than anger would have.
“I’m not your enemy,” he added quietly. You raised your eyebrow, “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m not gonna stop speaking up.”
You turned away, heart racing. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I figured.”
You walked off before he could say anything else, the tension following you down the street like a weight between your shoulder blades.
You told yourself you were annoyed.
You told yourself he was frustrating.
You absolutely did not let yourself think about the way his voice had lowered when he asked why you didn’t like him—or how closely he’d been watching your face when you answered.
You silently thank that you arrived at the bar as you can finally forget what just happened earlier. As usual, the bar was already buzzing when you pushed the door open.
Warm light spilled over worn wooden tables, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a song playing on the jukebox. It smelled like beer and citrus cleaner and something fried. It felt way too familiar and comforting, the one of the main reasons you don’t want to leave this town.
You slid onto a stool at the bar and ordered a beer, shoulders finally loosening as the cold glass touched your palm. For the first time all day, you let yourself breathe.
That was when you heard your name.
You turned slightly and saw them, three women at a corner table, faces you’d known since scraped knees and borrowed clothes. They were your childhood friends and the ones you’ve been with in grade school.
You gave a small wave and they immediately beckoned you over.
“Come sit,” one of them called. “You look like you’re about to implode.”
You took your beer and joined them.
They looked tired but happy after a long weekend. One wore a wedding ring she kept twisting absently. Another had her phone face-down on the table, probably filled with pictures of her kids. The third leaned back in her chair, relaxed and confident, as you already knew that she has a new boyfriend, and you hoped at the back of your head that this might be the person for her.
Still single and rooted here. You’d had boyfriends in high school and college, enough to know what didn’t work. Somewhere along the way, dating had started to feel like another obligation you didn’t have the energy for. So, helping the community felt easier because it was clearer and it didn’t leave you guessing. Of course, for that purpose you grow to love and nurture.
“So,” one of them said, lowering her voice slightly, eyes glinting. “You heard about Jenny Jacobson?”
Your stomach sank before you even knew why. “No,” you said carefully. “What about her?”
They all exchanged looks.
“She slept with the Joel Miller,” another said, barely containing her grin.
You took a slow sip of your beer, forcing your expression to stay neutral.
“Oh, yeah,” the first one continued. “Apparently it was—” she waved her hand vaguely, “—the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”
“She said he was really attentive,” someone added, eyebrows wiggling. “Like, he knew what he was doing.”
You stared at the condensation sliding down your glass, jaw tightening just slightly. You remembered his hands earlier, how they were large and covered with grease.
“And how exactly is this town still capable of keeping secrets?” you asked dryly.
That only made them laugh harder.
“You’re acting like teenagers,” you said. “Gossiping like this.”
“Oh please,” one of them shot back. “You’re just mad because you’re too uptight to make a move.”
“Yes,” she grinned. “You wouldn’t even look at him if he walked in here right now.”
“That’s because I have standards and plus, I don’t even like him,” you replied flatly.
Another friend leaned forward, studying you. “Okay, but seriously,” she said. “Not even a little? Just a fraction? You don’t find Joel Miller at all attractive?”
“Even if the world ended,” you said, voice firm, “and we were the last people left alive, I would not, under any circumstances find him attractive.”
There was a beat of silence then all three of them burst out laughing.
“That’s a bold statement,” one said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Be careful because life likes to humble people who talk like that.”
You rolled your eyes and took another drink. “I’m not worried.”
You leaned back in your chair, finally letting yourself settle into the buzz of the bar. The three friends were laughing and sharing stories, and for a while, you let the noise and familiarity distract you from the workweek, from Joel, from the report you still hadn’t touched.
You were halfway through a bite of fries when movement at the door caught your eye. Of course it was him. Joel stepped in, casual as ever, his hair combed from the back as it looked like he came out of the shower. He scanned the room briefly, then moved toward the counter. You looked away instantly, taking a deliberate sip of your beer, hoping no one noticed your flinch.
“Uh-oh,” one of your friends said, voice low but teasing, “Miller’s here.”
The other two snickered, and suddenly the conversation turned back to him as if you hadn’t even tried to ignore him.
“You know,” one began, “he got a girl pregnant when he was younger. And did it all on his own.”
“And he’s amazing at it,” the other added. “I’ve seen him with Sarah. He doesn’t just show up, he does everything. Homework, school drop-offs, baseball practice—you name it.”
“Yeah, the whole contracting business and full-time dad,” the first friend continued. “I don’t know how he manages. Most men can’t even handle one of those things properly.”
You rolled your eyes, setting your beer down a little too forcefully. Collective psychosis, you thought. Everyone in this town suddenly swoons over Joel Miller.
“Honestly,” you said, voice sharper than intended, “if your husbands heard you talking about him like this, they’d be jealous.”
The women leaned back, defensive but grinning. “They won’t get jealous,” one said. “We admire him. He does all that work and still manages to be a present father. That’s rare.”
You shook your head, taking another sip, eyes drifting toward Joel at the counter. He was ordering a beer now and didn’t glance toward you.
You shrugged, letting out a quiet exhale.
“He’s…” one of your friends started again, “he’s just… well, you know, impressive.”
“And you,” the first friend said, smirking at you, “you might be the only woman in this town who doesn’t like him.”
You smirked back, raising your bottle of bear slightly. “At least one person is still sane,” you said.
The three of them laughed, shaking their heads like you were the punchline.
You took another sip of your beer, eyes flicking back to Joel, who was now chatting quietly with the bartender, completely unaware or deliberately ignoring the effect he had on the entire table behind him.
You rolled your eyes again and muttered under your breath, “Hands-on single dad, contractor extraordinaire and still somehow insufferable. Color me impressed.”
No one at the table heard you, and that was exactly how you wanted it. But then you had reached your limit, the three of your childhood friends were still gushing over Joel Mille, you picked up your beer, weighed it in your hand, and shook your head.
You stood, brushing your hair back, and told your friends, “I’m going to the bar for a moment. This—” you gestured vaguely toward their table “—is getting on my nerves.”
“Don’t be like that,” one of them teased. “He’s fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” you repeated dryly, “is exactly why I need to get away from this conversation.”
They laughed, but you ignored them. Your plan was simple: grab a second beer at the bar, sip it slowly, and then go home to rest. Sliding onto a stool at the bar, you caught the bartender’s smile. “What’ll it be?” he asked.
“One beer,” you said, gesturing toward the bottle, your tone light but tired.
As you waited, letting your eyes drift, something in your peripheral vision caught you.
You blinked. He was standing beside Joel, leaning casually, eyes flicking in your direction.
Between the Miller brothers, you’d always found him easier to talk to. Unlike Joel, he listened. Even in board meetings, he treated your decisions with respect, something his older brother often ignored. Tommy leaned toward Joel and whispered something. Your ears caught it clearly enough: “I’ll talk to her for a minute.”
Joel glanced toward you, where you can see his expression unreadable before looking away to take a swing of his beer.
Tommy stepped toward the bar, and by the time he reached you, the corners of his mouth were already lifted in that easy, approachable smile that made him so disarming.
“Hey,” he said softly, leaning slightly so he wasn’t overheard by the crowd. “How are you?”
You returned the smile, a genuine one this time. “I’m alright. Work’s been stressful,” you admitted. Then, realizing politeness required a return question, you asked, “How about you?”
“Same,” he replied with a tired shrug. “Been running around all day with work. And… well,” he added, voice lowering a little, “I have to say, you look better when you smile more.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Better when I smile?”
“Yeah,” he said simply, sincerity in his tone. “I usually see you frowning or serious in meetings.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You mean the side that’s annoyed at your older brother for getting on my nerves?”
Tommy chuckled, leaning just slightly closer. “Yeah, I figured as much. But honestly, it’s kind of cute.”
You almost choked on your laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “Cute?” you echoed, mock horror in your voice.
“You heard me,” he said, grinning. “Trust me, not many people get to see you like this.”
You shook your head again, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “Well, maybe that’s for your eyes only.”
“Fair enough,” he said, laughing softly. “I can respect that.”
You took a sip of your beer, letting the warmth settle in your chest, feeling a strange, calming contrast to the irritation from before.
For a moment, you just watched him, standing there casually at the bar, and couldn’t help but think that, somehow, Tommy made this chaotic town feel a little easier to navigate. You laughed at one of Tommy’s stories about a minor mishap at the construction site where finally, the tension of the week slowly melting off your shoulders. You almost forgot why you’d come to the bar in the first place. The second beer, now cold and untouched, sat in front of you, but you didn’t reach for it.
For once, you didn’t even care because talking to Tommy was different.
“You really think the board will listen if you push this project?” Tommy asked suddenly, tilting his head as he studied you.
You froze for a fraction of a second, then frowned. “Which project?” The question caught you off guard, and you didn’t like the way his gaze lingered.
“The tree. Joel’s proposal to remove it,” he said, his voice casual, but not casual enough. There was a hint of amusement under the surface.
Your brow furrowed. “And why exactly are you asking me that?” you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice.
He shrugged lightly, eyes twinkling. “I don’t know, I just thought it was interesting. Seeing how passionate you get about it.”
You stared at him, and it hit you like a bolt.
He’s trying to get me to change my mind.
The realization made your stomach flip. That subtle tilt of his head. The careful attention he gave to every word you said. The way his eyes held yours just a little too long when you answered. This wasn’t just casual curiosity. Tommy wasn’t asking to make conversation. He was maneuvering, steering, and testing you, in fact, trying to tempt you into reconsidering.
Your initial warmth toward him curdled into annoyance. You set your beer down on the bar a little too hard, feeling the condensation slip through your fingers.
“Tommy,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”
He blinked, surprised, a small frown tugging at his mouth. “I’m just—”
“No,” you snapped, standing abruptly, cutting him off. “You don’t get to flirt with me under the guise of asking about something I actually care about. Not when you’re trying to get me to change my mind about the proposal.”
His smile faltered, replaced by an expression that was almost genuine concern. The way he looked at you hurt more than you wanted to admit. You had let yourself enjoy talking to him for the past hour. You’re quite fond of him, even for a moment and now you were standing here, tense, flushed, and furious—not at him, exactly, but at yourself. For letting it happen because you know yourself that you should know better for men like him.
“I—” he started again, but you shook your head, cutting him off.
“No,” you said firmly. “I need to go.”
You slipped past him, ignoring the soft, “Wait,” he muttered under his breath. Your jacket felt heavy on your shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the weight in your chest—the mixture of irritation, disappointment, and the sting of ego that came from realizing you had been so easily read.
The cold air outside was sharp and cleansing. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, walking fast, ignoring the laughter spilling out of the bar behind you. The night felt quieter than usual, though your mind was anything but calm.
The Millers. All of them. Infuriating, infuriating Millers, you thought, silently cursing. Joel with his charm and Tommy with his subtlety, both somehow managing to get under your skin in ways you didn’t appreciate.
By the time you reached home, the warmth of your apartment did little to soothe you. You leaned your forehead against the door, exhaling sharply, trying to shake off the frustration and the embarrassment.
Pouring yourself a glass of water, you sat on the edge of the counter, letting it run cold in your hand. You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, and instead of dwelling on anyone else, your mind went back to Joel Miller. Tomorrow, you told yourself, you’d read that damn proposal so you can get back your peace of mind.
And with that, you went to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you, determined to get some rest and to push Joel Miller out of your head for at least a few hours.
It was another calm morning, and you had agreed to help your sister with groceries. Her husband had left town on business, and the chaos of managing two kids alone was a little overwhelming for her, even with your help, well, you didn’t mind.
Luke clung to your side as soon as you arrived, his chubby hands tugging at your sleeve. You scooped him up easily, letting him rest against your chest, his small body warm and soft. He wriggled slightly, kicking his legs in delight, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was something comforting about being needed in this simple, uncomplicated way.
Her older daughter, Lily ran ahead toward the cereal aisle, chattering nonstop about school and friends. You followed Luke in your arms, making your way through the aisles, picking up fresh produce, snacks, and the necessities for the week.
You were enjoying the easy rhythm, helping your sister, chatting quietly, laughing at the toddler’s antics when a familiar voice cut through the hum of the store.
You froze mid-step, the small bag of apples in your hands forgotten.
You looked up, scowling instinctively. Joel Miller was standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the cart, and arms crossed. Somehow, he had a way of appearing exactly when you didn’t want him to.
“I’m fine,” you said sharply, trying to mask your irritation. “We can manage.”
Joel’s eyes flicked toward your sister, who was unloading a basket of cereal.
“You sure?” he asked, tone easy but his gaze lingering.
Before you could answer, your sister smiled warmly. “Yes, actually. Thank you, Joel.”
You turned toward her, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. What the hell are you doing? You wanted to shout, but you only managed a tight-lipped glare. Your sister didn’t even notice or didn’t care.
The toddler in your arms, apparently more perceptive than either of you, pointed at Joel and gurgled excitedly, “Uncle Jol!”
You froze. Christ, what the hell is happening to your family?
Joel’s face softened instantly, his smile broadening as he crouched slightly to the child’s level. “Hey there, buddy,” he said gently, reaching out a hand.
You could feel your jaw tighten as you watched him, every part of your body screaming with irritation. He wasn’t just helping—he was charming your family, even your nephew, without even trying.
“Come on,” your sister said, patting Joel on the shoulder as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Why don’t you drop by for lunch later? Bring Sarah too.”
You whipped your head toward her, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly, expression unreadable, before he looked back at your sister. “I don’t know if I’m really welcome,” he said.
Your sister waved a hand, dismissing his hesitation. “Of course you are. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Joel hesitated for only a second longer before nodding. “Alright… we’ll come by,” he said, a small, easy grin tugging at his lips.
You turned sharply to your sister, your voice rising in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?”
She laughed, utterly unfazed by your fury. “Relax. It’s just lunch,” she said lightly, ruffling the toddler’s hair.
You set the child down carefully, your hands still trembling slightly from frustration. “Just lunch?” you repeated. “Are you out of your mind?”
She shrugged, still laughing. “Come on, you’ll survive. Just try not to scowl the whole time, okay?”
You let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through your hair. You knew that you’d be silently cursing the Millers all the way home later but for now, you just followed your sister toward the checkout line, keeping one sharp eye on Joel as he chatted casually with your family, wondering how anyone could make him seem so harmless.
After paying for the groceries, you scooped the toddler into your arms, feeling his little legs kick and his soft laughter as he wriggled happily against your chest. Joel helped your sister to carry the heavier bags, trying to lift the milk and bulkier items into the car.
You and Luke are the last ones who got out of the supermarket and as Joel settled the items, he quickly went to you as you’re still carrying small items.
“Here, let me take that,” he said casually, as he offered to carry the small plastic bags you’re carrying. You didn’t speak and let him carry it. You wanted to snap, to remind him that this wasn’t his business, but your sister was beaming at him as though his sudden presence were a blessing.
“Thanks, Joel,” she said cheerfully, already arranging the bags without hesitation.
You muttered under your breath sarcastically, “You’re too helpful.”
Joel glanced at you, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing,” he said lightly as he’s carrying a sack of potatoes at the back of the car. “I’ve got this.”
Your hands itched to intervene, but you kept them folded across your chest, glaring instead. He moved with practiced efficiency, balancing bags and gently buckling the toddler into your sister’s car seat then he told your sister.
“I’ll just pick up Sarah,” he said, glancing back at your sister. “I’ll be there in just ten minutes..”
“Perfect. Thanks, Joel,” your sister replied, utterly unconcerned by the way your jaw was likely clenching. Both of you watched him go to his truck and left.
You let out a long, frustrated sigh, sliding into the driver’s seat with the toddler now strapped in safely behind you. The car smelled faintly of fresh groceries and for a moment, you almost allowed yourself to relax. As you pulled out of the parking lot, you glanced at your sister, still humming quietly while arranging the grocery bags on the passenger seat.
“Do you really plan to make me go soft with him?” you asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Your voice carried that mix of exasperation and disbelief that always emerged when she teased you.
She laughed, light and carefree. “What? Joel Miller?”
“Yes,” you said, flatly. “You know it’s out of the question.”
“You’re afraid of him,” she teased, glancing at you with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m not afraid,” you snapped. A little louder than intended. Not afraid. You repeated it in your head like a mantra, though the truth was, it wasn’t fear—it was irritation, disbelief, and maybe a little grudging respect you weren’t ready to admit.
She tilted her head, watching you like she always did when she found your stubbornness amusing. “If I’m being honest, you kind of fit him.”
You nearly swerved at the words, your eyes widening in disbelief. “That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.”
She shrugged, unfazed. “I can’t wait for the day a man can manhandle you.”
You snorted, shaking your head, gripping the wheel tighter. “That would be a miracle.”
She laughed again, the sound warm and teasing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I’m perfectly aware,” you replied, dryly, forcing yourself to focus on the road.
The drive back to your sister’s house was quiet, save for the occasional squeals and giggles from the toddler in the backseat. He was humming a little tune he’d picked up at the grocery store, tapping his small hands on the car seat tray in rhythm, and you forced yourself to focus on the road rather than the storm brewing in your chest.
Pulling into the driveway, your eyes immediately landed on Joel’s truck, parked neatly in front of the garage. Of course he was here early. Of course he wanted to help. The sight of that truck made your jaw tighten instinctively.
Infuriating, as usual, you muttered under your breath.
When you stepped onto the porch, Joel and his daughter Sarah were already unloading groceries. Sarah moved like a little whirlwind and completely at ease carrying the smaller bags inside, her hair bouncing as she went. Joel, on the other hand, handled the heavy items with that casual ease he always had, balancing boxes, lifting bags, and somehow keeping a relaxed, almost amused expression on his face the entire time. You felt your teeth grit with frustration.
Your sister, naturally oblivious to your growing irritation, was giving instructions as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Stay put,” she said lightly as she set the toddler down on the floor. “I’ll handle the cooking, you just relax with him.”
You blinked at her, incredulous. “I want to help,” you said firmly, moving toward a bag on the counter.
“No,” she insisted, waving a hand as if brushing off your protest. “You’ll be with the guests.”
You froze, your arms dropping to your sides as your sister casually invited Joel into the house without asking your permission or even warning you. “Guests?” you repeated, your voice tight with disbelief.
She glanced at you briefly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and then turned to Joel. “This is perfect, she’ll stay with you, Joel .”
Your jaw tightened as you processed the words. She’s making me sit here and watch him? You could feel a low hum of frustration rising in your chest, but you didn’t move. Instead, you folded your arms, glaring at her like she’d just committed a crime against your pride.
Inside, the groceries were quickly being put away. Lily and Sarah, carefree and energetic, dashed upstairs, squealing and laughing as they disappeared into the bedroom. The quiet patter of their footsteps faded, leaving the adults alone in the living room.
Luke, however, remained in the middle of the floor, eyes wide and shining as he looked up at Joel. “Uncle Jol!” he squealed, kicking his legs with excitement, the small childlike mispronunciation making Joel chuckle.
Joel crouched down, his hands moving gently as he ruffled the toddler’s hair and leaned in close, speaking softly to him. “Hey there, buddy. How’s my favorite helper today?”
You stood stiffly off to the side, arms crossed, feeling your frustration radiate in sharp waves through your chest. The way Joel interacted so easily with the child set your teeth on edge. Every word he said, every movement he made, seemed designed to make you squirm, even if he wasn’t consciously trying.
Your sister clapped her hands lightly, drawing Joel’s attention. “Why don’t you two sit? Lunch will be ready soon, and you’ll want to be comfortable while the kids play.”
Your nephew crawled closer to Joel, eager for attention, and Joel responded instantly, tickling the toddler’s tiny tummy and making him squeal with delight. You sank slightly into the couch, arms crossed loosely, as Joel crouched beside the toddler, who was sitting on the floor kicking his legs excitedly. With effortless ease, Joel scooped the little one into his arms, holding him securely against his chest. The toddler squealed with delight, reaching up to touch Joel’s face, and Joel chuckled warmly, ruffling the child’s hair gently.
You watched him, jaw tight, pulse a little faster than you’d like to admit. As much as you want to stay silent but you broke the ice,
“By the way,” you said, forcing your tone casual and professional, “I already read your proposal.”
Joel glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. “Oh? And what do you think?”
You leaned back in your chair, careful not to reveal any reaction, and said firmly, “We’ll discuss it in the meeting next week.”
He didn’t press further. Instead, he adjusted the toddler on his hip, gently bouncing him as the little one squealed with laughter. Joel’s large hands were careful and protective, precise in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You found yourself noticing the small details: the way his arms supported the child, how his eyes softened when the toddler grinned up at him and how he spoke soothingly to calm the tiny fussing kicks.
Your gaze wandered to the photographs on the walls, snapshots of you and your sister as children, laughing in messy hair, sunshine on your faces, carefree and unburdened. Joel followed your eyes, and for a moment, he seemed to lose the playful edge, his expression turning reflective.
“You come from a wonderful family,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost sincere. “I never had anything like that. Not really. But I thank God every day for Sarah and Tommy.”
Something in his tone softened you, despite yourself. “What about your parents?” you asked gently, careful not to sound intrusive.
Joel’s expression darkened slightly, but he held your gaze steadily. “My mother died when we were young,” he said. “And my father, he was a drunkard. Never really there, never cared for me and my brother.” He shrugged, almost ruefully. “So, I got a girl pregnant early. I decided to own it. I raised Sarah while I raised Tommy too.”
The weight of his words settled over you. This was the man she called infuriating, charming and a thorn in your side for over three years but here, holding your nephew with that hint of patience in his eyes softened in you.
“You did a wonderful job raising Sarah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, letting a fraction of warmth creep in. “You really did.”
Joel’s eyes softened, a small, almost surprised smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “That means a lot.”
The toddler kicked lightly, wriggling in Joel’s arms, and Joel chuckled, bouncing him gently. “Easy there, little guy,” he murmured, looking down at the child.
You felt your shoulders relax slightly, though your chest still hummed with the familiar irritation he always seemed to provoke. But your thoughts were interrupted by your sister’s voice, as she emerged from the kitchen, “Girls! Lunch is ready! Come on downstairs!”
Upstairs, Lily and Sarah let out a chorus of giggles before racing down the stairs, their little feet padding against the wooden steps. You instinctively moved to sit beside Lily, wanting to keep her close, but your sister blocked the way gently.
“No, sit here,” she said, gesturing to the seat beside Joel. “Luke will sit beside you.”
You froze for a second, irritation flashing across your chest. “I—”
“No arguments,” your sister said, smiling. “He’s been so fond of you and Joel, and I think it’s nice for you to sit together.”
You clenched your jaw but didn’t argue further. You lowered yourself into the chair, trying to hide your frustration. Across from you, Joel held your nephew securely on his lap, bouncing him lightly as Luke clapped his small hands with delight. Your niece, Lily, and Sarah sat close by, whispering and giggling, their eyes flicking between you and Joel as if they knew something you didn’t.
Your sister leaned over, whispering softly so only you could hear. “Thank you for taking care of him.” She nodded toward Luke, smiling at Joel. “Luke really likes him.”
“I noticed,” you said dryly, keeping your tone neutral, though your gaze flicked briefly toward Joel as he rocked the toddler gently.
The lunch began, plates passing back and forth, small chatter filling the room. You handed Luke a piece of bread, and the toddler squealed with delight, waving his arms.
Joel glanced up at you, a small teasing edge in his voice. “How are you holding up with the toddler? Not too exhausting?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, lips pressed in a thin line. “I’ve survived worse,” you said flatly, though the teasing lilt in his voice made your pulse tick up ever so slightly.
He chuckled lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can tell,” he said, tilting his head as he watched you. “You’ve got patience, I’ll give you that.”
You pursed your lips. “Patience is different from letting him boss me around,” you said, nodding toward Luke as he squealed, reaching for Joel’s hand.
Joel leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice just enough to carry over the clatter of cutlery. “He likes me,” he said quietly, almost teasing. “I’m not sure you should take it personally.”
You let out an exasperated huff, shaking your head. “I don’t take anything personally,” you said. You looked at your sister who seemed amused by your predicament. If you can only wring her neck right after!
He noticed, of course, and that half-smile deepened just slightly. “Uh-huh,” he murmured, the tone teasing but subtle, not overbearing. “Sure you don’t.”
Luke reached up and grabbed Joel’s hand again, squealing, and Joel’s chuckle was soft. The girls giggled again, glancing at you and Joel with that knowing look, and for a moment, you thought about how infuriating it was that they seemed to enjoy the subtle tension you were trying so hard to ignore.
After the most treacherous lunch in your life, to how you describe it, lunch plates were cleared and your sister insisted she will do all the work in the kitchen, leaving you, Joel, and the kids in the living room. Lily and Sarah were playing some Barbie dolls, their laughter echoing through the room, while Luke wiggled slightly in Joel’s arms, still clutching a small toy your sister had given him.
Joel handed Luke back to you with a gentle smile. “Your turn,” he said, letting the toddler slide into your lap. “He’s a handful.”
You huffed, settling Luke against your chest, letting him squirm as you adjusted him. “I know,” you muttered, trying to hide how warm you felt from the proximity.
Joel leaned casually against the arm of the couch, his gaze flicking between the children and you. “You’re good with him,” he said quietly, almost teasing. “He likes you. I can tell.”
You crossed your arms, pretending not to notice the way his eyes lingered on you, and replied flatly, “Of course, I’m his auntie.”
Luke squealed and reached up, grabbing a strand of your hair. You yelped softly, trying to disentangle it, and Joel laughed quietly, his gaze on you. “He’s testing boundaries,” he said. “Just like Sarah.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’ve noticed,” you said, your voice softer than intended.
Joel’s smile deepened, and for a moment, he leaned slightly closer, resting an elbow on the couch beside you. “You know,” he said quietly, low enough that only you could hear, “you’re not as serious as you pretend to be. I can see it when you’re around the kids.”
You stiffened, narrowing your eyes. “I’m serious enough, Miller” you said, quickly, but your cheeks warmed.
Joel only smiled knowingly, rocking Luke gently in your lap as the toddler babbled happily. “Sure you are,” he said, voice soft, teasing but there was something else there too that you can’t decipher.
“You know,” he said quietly, almost casually, “you’re really good with children.” His eyes lingered on you, sharp but warm. “Honestly, if you ever had kids of your own someday, I think you’d be a wonderful mom.”
You froze, the words hitting a spot you weren’t prepared to acknowledge. You didn’t speak but instead, your gaze drifted down to Luke, who was beaming at you with pure, unfiltered joy. The thought of motherhood did come to your mind but having a child seemed self-sacrificing but when Lily and Luke came to your life, it’s a blessing for you as you’ve got to spoil them. But you being a mother? It seems far-fetched but to how Joel told you about it, it felt like he has seen something that you haven’t seen before, that made you confused about what he said.
You didn’t dare look at his eyes because your heart is beating so fast and just simply replied, “Maybe, someday.”
The living room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains. The kids were tucked away upstairs, finally quiet after a long afternoon of running around and playful chaos. You had set up your laptop on the coffee table, trying to focus on work, fingers moving over the keys mechanically, but your mind kept wandering back to Joel—the way he had handled Luke at lunch, the teasing half-smile, the way he’d effortlessly charmed the girls while keeping you on edge.
Your sister’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She glanced down and frowned slightly before showing you the screen. “Looks like your brother-in-law’s trip is going to be longer than we thought,” she said, leaning against the doorway. “The client in Houston extended his project. He won’t be back for another week, at least.”
You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “So, what? You want me to stay here while you handle everything?”
She gave a small shrug. “Well, yes and no. I mean, it’s nice to have some company, and you can help with the kids if you want.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Besides, I think it’s good for you to get a break from your own place for a bit.”
You exhaled, shaking your head slightly. “I’ll stay. But only because I don’t have a choice,” you said, trying to sound firm and businesslike.
Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she moved closer, leaning against the back of the couch. “I noticed something at lunch,” she said softly, her tone casual but teasing. “You and Joel… you talked.”
You froze for half a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “We didn’t,” you said quickly, keeping your eyes on the screen.
“Oh, come on,” she said, shaking her head, amused. “Don’t lie to me. I know you two have chemistry.”
You snorted, typing quickly to cover your embarrassment. “It’s nothing. Just watching him with the kids.”
Her eyes softened, and she leaned closer, voice lowering. “Honestly, he admires you. I can see it. He’s not just teasing. He actually respects you and enjoys your company. I think—no, I know—he notices everything about you. Your mind, your humor, and the way you handle yourself.”
You paused, cursor blinking on the screen, forcing yourself to ignore the small warmth that flickered in your chest. “Admiration doesn’t matter,” you said flatly, resuming typing.
She didn’t let it go. “No, I mean it. Joel’s the kind of partner you need. Mature and capable, someone who can challenge you without ever trying to put you down. To be honest, he respects you.”
You glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “I’m not interested in relationships. Marriage, it’s not even on my radar. And certainly not with the man who insists on chopping down the oldest tree in town.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, half exasperated, half amused. “Why do you care so much about that damn tree?” she asked. “Seriously, it’s just a tree. There are more important things in life.”
You shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, though your chest tightened. “It’s not just a tree,” you muttered. “It's a principle. And the fact he just barges in, thinking he can change everything without understanding what the community has built.”
Your sister softened, placing a hand on your arm. “You know why it bothers you, right? It’s not really about the tree. It’s about your pride. Someone finally questions you, challenges you and instead of bulldozing through like everyone else, he respects you while doing it. That’s hard for you to take.”
You froze, staring at your laptop, pretending to type. Yes, that was it.
Someone who could push back against you, who could make you consider another point of view without belittling you. It was infuriating, and it hurt your ego more than you wanted to admit. For all the men you’ve met, Joel Miller made it so easy and it drove you mad.
“I get that you’re independent, career-oriented, and capable of taking care of yourself,” your sister continued softly. “But I also want you to be with someone who can take care of you, who can stand beside you instead of beneath you. You deserve that.”
“I can take care of myself,” you said firmly, though your voice was quieter, tinged with something you didn’t want her to notice.
She shook her head, half sighing. “I give up,” she said, amusement in her voice but a faint note of frustration too. “I’ll leave you to your laptop and your stubbornness.”
She rose and went upstairs, her footsteps fading, leaving the living room quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the muted glow of the laptop screen.
You rested your chin in your hand, staring at the blank document. Work no longer mattered. The house was peaceful all of a sudden, but your thoughts were anything but the lunch earlier, Joel holding Luke the teasing tone in his voice, and the way he had made your nephew beam with joy without effort. The cursor blinked on the screen, but your hands didn’t move. You just sat there, silent, letting the glow of the evening sun wash over you as your mind replayed every infuriating, charming, and maddening detail of Joel Miller.
You knew very well at the darkest corners of your mind that you’re irrevocably fucked.
CONTINUE READING: PART 2 ━━ READ ON AO3
☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @alderaandors
