Chapter 21 Milo #2
We eat. We talk. She tells me about finding Honeyridge—how she drove through on a road trip three years ago and something just clicked. How she’d been drifting from city to city after aging out of the foster system, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots. Until here.
“I didn’t have family growing up,” she says quietly, twirling pasta around her fork. “Foster care. Aged out at eighteen with nothing but a garbage bag of clothes and a lot of trust issues.”
I set down my wine glass. “Tessa...”
“I’m not telling you for sympathy.” She meets my eyes, and there’s a fierceness there I recognize. The kind that comes from surviving. “I’m telling you because you shared something real with me. Seems fair I do the same.”
“Thank you.” I mean it. “For trusting me with that.”
She shrugs, but there’s a vulnerability underneath. “Honeyridge is the first place that ever felt like home. The first place people actually... stayed.”
I reach across the table, cover her hand with mine. “We’re not going anywhere.”
She laughs at that one. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m stressed about an event.”
“I’ve seen you stressed about events for three years.
Still here.” I steal a bite of her tiramisu—she insisted on sharing—and grin when she swats at my fork.
“That’s what I love about this place. Everyone’s got history with everyone.
Gramps used to say the bar wasn’t really his—it belonged to the town. He just kept the lights on.”
“So you stayed to keep the lights on.”
“I stayed because it mattered. Because the people here matter.” I set down my fork, look at her across the candlelit table. “Never regretted it. Especially not lately.”
She holds my gaze, and something passes between us. Not just attraction—though that’s there, god knows it’s there—but something quieter. Deeper. The start of something real.
“I’m glad you stayed,” she says softly.
“Yeah.” I reach across the table, run my thumb over her knuckles. “Me too.”
The drive back is different—darker, quieter, the mountains swallowed by night. The only light comes from my headlights cutting through the darkness.
Tessa’s turned toward me in her seat, and at some point her hand found its way to my arm. Just resting there. Warm through my sweater.
“I had a really good time,” she says softly.
“Yeah?” I glance at her, catch the warmth in her eyes. “Good enough for a second date?”
“Maybe.” There’s a hint of teasing in her voice. “Depends.”
“On what?”
She doesn’t answer, just smiles and looks out the window at the stars.
I know this stretch of road. There’s an overlook about five minutes ahead—the one where everyone in town has parked at least once. Usually it’s full of teenagers, but on a cold February night, it’ll be empty.
I shouldn’t. I should take her straight home like a gentleman.
But when the turnoff appears, I slow down.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Showing you the view.” I pull onto the overlook and cut the engine. The valley spreads out below us, lights from Pine Valley twinkling in the distance, stars scattered overhead.
Tessa looks out at the view, then back at me. “The view, huh?”
“Best one in the county.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, turn to face her properly. “Also, I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night, and I didn’t want to do it while driving.”
Her cheeks flush. “That would be dangerous.”
“Very dangerous.” I reach over, brush a strand of hair from her face. Let my fingers linger at her jaw. “Is this okay?”
She nods, and I close the distance between us.
The kiss starts soft. Tentative. Just a brush of lips, giving her space to pull back if she wants. She doesn’t. Instead she leans in, her hand coming up to rest on my chest, and I take that as permission to deepen it.
She tastes like wine and tiramisu. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her properly—slow, thorough, savoring every second. She makes a small sound against my mouth, something between a sigh and a hum, and warmth spreads through my whole body.
“Milo,” she whispers against my lips.
“Mm?” I don’t stop kissing her. Her jaw. The corner of her mouth. That spot just below her ear.
“We should...” She trails off when I find a sensitive spot on her neck.
“Probably.” I pull back just enough to look at her. Her eyes are soft, her cheeks flushed, her lips pink from kissing. She looks dazed. Beautiful. “You want me to stop?”
“No.” She says it immediately, then seems surprised by her own honesty. “I mean—I don’t know. This is...”
“A lot?”
“Yeah.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m not usually... I don’t usually...”
“I know.” I press my forehead to hers. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I meant what I said at dinner. We’ve got time.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she kisses me again—quick, sweet, almost shy.
“One more,” she says. “Then you should probably take me home before I forget to be careful.”
I smile against her mouth. “Would that be so bad?”
“Milo.”
“Okay, okay.” I steal one more kiss—longer than she probably intended—then make myself sit back. “Home it is.”
The rest of the drive is quiet, but it’s a good quiet. Comfortable. Her hand finds mine on the center console, and she doesn’t let go until we pull up outside her apartment.
I make myself get out. Walk around. Open her door like a gentleman.
She takes my hand and leads me up the narrow staircase to her door. When she turns to face me, back against the wood, the look in her eyes almost undoes me.
“I had a really good time tonight,” she says. “Best date I’ve ever been on.”
“Yeah?” I step closer. Close enough to catch the lavender in her scent. “Me too.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I never just say things.” I brush her hair back, tuck it behind her ear. Let my knuckles graze her cheek. “Everything I say to you, I mean.”
“Milo...” She’s barely whispering now.
“I want all of you, Tessa. Not just the heat. Not just the biology. Everything—the spreadsheets, the color-coding, the way you forget to eat when you’re stressed. I want the mornings and the boring stuff and the arguments about where to put the throw pillows. I want it all.”
Her eyes are shining. “I want that too. I just... I’m scared.”
“I know.” I lean down, press my lips to her forehead. “That’s okay. We’ve got time. We’ve got Ben and Elijah. We’ll figure it out together.”
“But right now?”
“Right now...” I tilt her chin up with one finger. “I’m going to kiss you goodnight.”
She rises up on her toes and kisses me.
Softer than before. Sweeter. A goodnight kiss that somehow says more than words could.
Her hands curl into my sweater, pulling me closer, and I press her gently back against the door.
She opens for me, and I let myself sink into it—the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she fits against me like she was made to be there.
When we finally pull apart, she’s smiling.
“Goodnight, Milo.” Her voice is soft.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” I steal one more kiss—just a brush of lips—and make myself step back. “Lock your door. Drink some water.”
“Think about you?”
“Only if you want.” I wink. “But I’ll be thinking about you, so it’s only fair.”
She laughs softly and fumbles with her keys. When the door swings open, she pauses on the threshold and looks back at me with a smile that makes my chest ache.
“Thank you,” she says. “For tonight. For all of it.”
“Anytime.” I wait until she’s inside, until I hear the lock click. Then I head back down the stairs, heart pounding, lips still tingling, her scent clinging to my clothes.
Best date I’ve ever been on.
And we’re just getting started.