Chapter Fourteen Prue #2
“Yeah, something like that.” I run his credit card through and slide it across the counter toward him.
“Well, you’ve already met me and survived Nadia.” He smiles crookedly, slipping his card into his wallet before folding it and placing it into his back pocket. “Sef is the only one Milo would probably want you to meet.”
“I just—” God, I’m really about to say this. “I haven’t heard from him today and we—”
Nik’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. “He’s not blown you off, right?”
“No,” I say confidently. “Well,” I add, less so.
“Oh my god, this is a very inappropriate conversation to have with you right now,” I mumble, more so to myself as Nik reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and puts it on speaker as a ringing tone begins.
“Wait, no, is that—?” I’m interrupted by the sound of the call being picked up.
“Mi, hey,” Nik says.
I fight the urge to sink down to the floor and hide behind the desk.
“Howdy, brother,” Milo returns in a silly, carefree tone. Tell the man he’s on speaker, please!
“I’m finishing up at Welch’s,” Nik returns. “I met Prue.”
Three torturously long seconds pass.
“She’s something else, right?”
“Yeah, sure. She’s also saying no to coming to ours for dinner.”
“What?”
“Sef sent me to invite her to dinner tonight, as a thank-you. Prue seems to think you wouldn’t want that. If I go back to my wife and—”
“Wait, why would she think that?”
He looks at me as if I’m supposed to answer. I will not.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “You tell me.”
“Well, what did she say?”
“That you’ve blown her off.”
My mouth opens on a soft gasp. I did not say that, I mouth to him.
Silence follows, as I hear footsteps on gravel through the phone. “All right, I’ll fix it.”
“So, she can come?” Nik asks.
“Of course, I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” Nik says, chuckling. “Is that why Sef found about twelve sketches of her laid out on your bed this morning?” He turns his attention toward me, smiling as his younger brother so often does.
But the flirtatious way Milo does it is nowhere to be found.
This is more familial. Like when Mom would tease Dad and get me to join in.
Milo sighs deeply. “I asked Sef to stop going in my room. Some privacy would be nice.”
“Yeah, like any of us are going to tell Sef what she can or can’t do…”
Twelve? I mouth to Nik, who nods with bulging, teasing eyes. I flash my eyes back at him, then suppress a giggle.
“Sef said that the way they were laid out on your bed looked like the beginning of a Dateline episode. Is Prue safe? Should we alert local authorities?”
“Why are you talking like that?” Milo asks.
“Like what?” Nik replies, his smile growing.
“Like you have an audience…”
Nik says nothing but holds the phone out to me in an offering.
“Twelve is a bit excessive,” I chime in.
Five deliciously long seconds of silence pass as Nik and I both try not to break into laughter.
“You little shit.”
“See how quickly things can be resolved when we communicate?” Nik gloats.
“Prue, if you can hear me, it wasn’t actually twelve—”
“It was,” Nik says to me, while his brother continues to speak. “See you soon, Mi,” he says, interrupting Milo’s rambling, then hangs up. “So, dinner?” Nik asks me, slipping his phone into his pocket.
I sigh, shaking my head as a smile overtakes my face. “Yes, sure, why not. Should I bring anything?”
Nik picks up his groceries. Pointing to the bag in his hands, he says, “No, I think we’ve got it all covered.”
I watch Nik exit just as I see Milo run across the parking lot, flipping off his brother as he runs toward the entrance with a handful of wildflowers in hand.
He’s at the checkout desk before the bell over the door finishes ringing, and practically tosses the collection of daisies and weeds across the counter at me.
“What else did that prick tell you?” he asks me, fighting to catch his breath.
I look between Milo and the flowers with one raised brow.
He looks good today. He’s wearing a baggy white T-shirt and black shorts that show off tattoos I’d yet to see on his knees and calves.
I cannot help but wonder when I’ll get to see them all.
And I also cannot help but wonder what story I’d have crafted for him if he’d just been a customer wandering through our shop’s aisles one afternoon.
It probably would not have been one that involved me playing a leading role.
“Oh, and,” he says, leaning on the counter as he gasps for air and points to the flowers, “happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” I smile, shaking my head. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” Milo asks, his hesitant smile settling into place as he straightens to stand. “You can say no…. I don’t know the…parameters of an agreement like ours but you can come over as my friend and not my—”
“I’ve already said yes,” I interrupt. “Did you run all the way here?” I ask, letting out a weary laugh at his expense. “You are really fighting for your life right now.”
“Yes, I did. I regret it deeply.” He swallows.
“And then…after dinner…” He stops to take in another breath.
“We’ll talk? About this?” He points between us.
I smirk, studying him curiously as his chest rises on another deep breath in, then he turns those dark eyes to mine.
“What?” he asks me, growing both visibly nervous and excited by my fixed stare.
“Twelve, huh?” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “When did those start?”
He rolls his eyes, smiling up at the ceiling. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Oh, but it already has. “Twelve,” I repeat, smirking.
He leans across the counter, smelling of sweat and that primal-urge scent only available to him. “Is that a yes to talking later? We need a plan before we can do anything”—his eyes dip down to my lips—“fun.”
“It’s a yes.” For all of it.