Summary: When Miles makes a wish at the Chinease Wishing Well, he doesn't expect it to come true almost immeadiately.
After the Rina situation Miles swears off dating. Being set up and almost murdered by the Eastern Front will do that to a man. He deletes the apps, ignores the badge bunnies, focuses on himself and his career.
Life is good, in fact it’s great, he just wishes he has someone to share it with especially when everyone is coupled up.
It’s why he tosses a coin in the ‘Wishing Well’ in Chinatown one Sunday afternoon. He’s finally getting around to doing a little sightseeing in the city he’s been living in for the best part of a year.
He doesn’t expect for it to come true almost immediately, to literally run into a girl with cowboy boots that remind him of that little boutique back in Sugar Land, the one with the handstitched designs he’d ruined the night he jumped off the roof of that building.
“I think I owned something like that once.” He drawls when you manage to untangle yourselves from one other. His palm rests on your waist, steadying you and you can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the white summer dress you’re wearing as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “They were the comfiest damn things I ever wore.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You smile as he releases you. You put your foot on the edge of the well, hiking the dress up another couple of inches so he can see the rest of the design. “These are part of the new line, I’m trying out the prototypes before we open up our first pop up shop in LA next month.”
“Wait, you made these?” His hand captures your calf as he leans in close to examine the craftsmanship. His fingertips lightly trace over the butter soft tanned leather, gently caressing the stitchwork. “This here, it’s a thing of beauty.”
“Are you talking about me or the boot?” You tease and his cheeks redden slightly as he lets out a self-depreciating laugh.
“Now ma’am, if I may be so bold as to say, you most certainly outshine any old cowboy boot, even ones as fine as these.” He returns, the edges of his mouth turning up into a smile.
“I like you.” You say openly, tipping your head towards the restaurant behind you. “You wanna get a bite to eat and tell me what happened to those boots you used to own?”
“Why ma’am…” He says holding out his arm like a good Southern gentleman to escort you to the eatery. “It would truly be my pleasure.”
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