Chapter 9 #2
I groan loud enough to draw a few glances from nearby tables. Milo lets out a quiet, rumbling chuckle. The sound vibrates through his chest, and I feel it more than I hear it, goosebumps rippling across my arms.
The pavilion gradually fills with easy chatter as more guests drift over.
I try to follow the conversations, but my focus keeps drifting to the man beside me.
My knee starts bouncing under the table—its usual restless rhythm.
Before I can stop it, Milo’s hand settles lightly on my thigh, fingers curling as his thumb traces soothing circles over the jittery muscle.
The touch is so casual it could almost be accidental… except nothing about Milo feels accidental anymore.
He leans in, his voice low against my ear. “Your knee is wandering again.”
I press my lips together to hide my smile, then turn toward him, lowering my voice. “I told you last night it has a habit of doing that.”
His lips curve into that almost-smile that makes my breath catch. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping things in line.”
The words are innocent enough on their own, but the way he says them—low, rough around the edges, his thumb still moving in lazy circles across my thigh—sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
I arch a brow and lean closer, our shoulders brushing. “Careful, Milo. You keep talking like that, and I’ll think you’re flirting with me.”
His thumb pauses for a beat, then resumes with a little more pressure. “Would that be so terrible?”
My mouth goes dry. Before I can answer, Aria’s voice rings out from the front of the pavilion.
“Okay, okay! Everyone, eyes up here!”
She and Ethan stand on the small, raised platform, both grinning as they hold identical A4-sized laminated cards. Beside them, a tall easel is draped in a cream cloth.
“Is everyone ready for what we’ve got planned?” Ethan calls, his voice booming with mischief.
The pavilion erupts in hoots, whistles, and scattered shouts of “let’s goooo!” Aria and Ethan laugh, lock eyes, and launch into a theatrical countdown as they each grab a side of the cloth and slowly tug.
“Three… two… one!”
They pull the cloth away, and it flutters to the ground, revealing a large “Wedding Week Bingo” card with twelve brightly colored squares, each with an activity.
I quickly scan the squares, heart already picking up speed. So this is the chaos Aria was talking about earlier.
Matching temporary tattoos (on visible skin)
Karaoke duet (full song, no lip-syncing)
Accept a surprise dare from the Bride and Groom
Give each other a couple’s massage
Selfie with a local animal
Sunset yoga
Couples painting (paint a portrait of your partner)
Slow dance to a song neither of you likes
Dress the other person in the most ridiculous outfit you can find (don’t hold back!)
Find the coolest waterfall
ATV treasure hunt (details announced before you do the task)
Write a poem about your partner
Aria claps sharply. “Wedding Week Bingo! Your partner is your partner—no swaps, no trades, no ‘my ankle hurts.’ I’m looking at you in particular, Dad.”
Dad presses his lips together and raises both hands in mock surrender, earning ripples of laughter. “It was one time.”
“Photo or video evidence is required for every square,” Aria continues, grinning. “The first team to complete the whole card wins a private sunset catamaran sail.”
Ethan steps closer, smirking. “Tasks can be done in any order. But you do everything together. One bails? Card’s void. No exceptions—unless one of you ends up… dead or something. Which we’re hoping doesn’t happen.”
“And to keep you from turning this into a 24/7 frenzy,” Aria jumps in, her eyes sparkling. “We’ve added one more rule: a maximum of three tasks per day. That means wedding week bingo runs for exactly four glorious, chaotic days.”
“Are we ready to find out who your partners are?” Ethan grins enthusiastically.
They begin announcing the couple’s, and surprise, surprise—I get paired with Milo. He’s already watching me, one brow raised in quiet amusement. His hand is still resting on my thigh under the table, steadying the bounce I didn’t realize had returned.
Everyone begins pairing up with their partner as Aria and Ethan walk around the pavilion, handing out transparent wallets containing A4 versions of the bingo cards.
Milo pulls the card out and places it between us so we can both see it. We lean in at the same time, and our heads bump with a soft thunk. Neither of us moves to pull away. It instantly reminds me of when we bumped our heads on the plane.
“So… we’re really doing this then?” I murmur, my fingers reaching out to brush the edge of the card.
“Seems that way,” he replies, his voice low.
“We should decide what we’re each day—strategically—so we’re not having emotional breakdowns every morning at breakfast,” I suggest.
He snorts. “Speak for yourself. I’m well-versed in keeping my emotional breakdowns to a minimum.”
My eyes roll. “Yeah, right. Mr. Controlled-and-composed probably has a color-coded spreadsheet for his feelings.”
His lips twitch. “And you probably have a chaos spreadsheet titled ‘Things That Could Go Wrong Today and How to Make Them Worse,’ right?”
I grin despite myself, butterflies kicking up in my stomach. “Touché. Today we should focus on the easy ones—matching tattoos, couple’s painting, and sunset yoga.”
Milo nods slowly, his eyes flicking across the card. “Tomorrow we can do the couple’s massage, write the poems, and whatever ridiculous dare Aria throws at us.”
I groan, tipping my head back against the chair. “Her dares are painfully vanilla. She once dared me to eat a pickle in one bite. That’s not a dare; that’s an average Tuesday. I’m ready to push boundaries, and she’s playing it safe like the bedroom only has missionary and mood lighting.”
Milo lets out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrates straight through me. “She once dared me down a glass of scotch… that I was already going to do anyway.”
“Exactly,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Vanilla. She’s scared of anything that’ll actually make her blush. Me? I say boundaries are meant to be fucked with. Hard. Preferably with a twelve-inch sparkly pink dildo and no apologies.”
Sue a girl for liking to experiment. I’ve got a drawer full of fun and zero regrets—except maybe that one time I tried the giant octopus tentacle thing from that sketchy sex site.
Hard pass. My vagina filed a formal complaint afterward, and the tentacle now collects dust in a cardboard box under my bed.
Milo chokes on his coffee, coughing so hard his shoulders shake. I reach over and pat his back, letting my hand linger there.
“Easy there, Mr. Wet-Pants-Wonder,” I tease, my voice dropping. “Didn’t mean to kill you with my honesty. Or were you picturing me using that twelve-incher? Be honest—I won’t judge. Warning, though: I only brought vibrators with me. One is a rabbit, though.”
He straightens, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and glittering. I wink at him, my pulse hammering louder. I like this—rattling him. I like that he’s not running from it but engaging.
The rest of the planning continues. Leaning even closer, until his cedarwood cologne invades my senses, I keep going.
“On day three, we’ll do the selfie with a local animal—I’ve already spotted some lizards on our deck, so that’ll be easy.
Then the waterfall and ATV treasure hunt,” I take a sip of coffee, then continue.
“They’ll probably send us into the jungle anyway, so we may as well find a cute waterfall while we’re at it.
Bonus points if we get soaked—those points are purely for my entertainment, though. ”
He chokes on his coffee again. My parents glance over with curious eyes, and I press my lips into a thin line, fighting the grin that wants to break free.
“You okay over there?” I ask innocently, tilting my head so my hair falls over my shoulder and grazes his arm. “You look a little… tense.”
His stormy, heated eyes pierce mine. “You keep talking about twelve-inch toys and getting soaked like it’s nothing, and you expect me not to react?”
“I expect you to keep up, Milo,” I reply with a grin. “I’m not slowing down for anyone.”
His gaze drops to my lips, lingering longer this time, before he drags his eyes back up to meet mine. “Noted.”
I keep going like I didn’t just almost kill him.
“Then on the final day, we’ll do the ridiculous outfits, a karaoke duet, and a slow dance to a song neither of us likes,” I pause.
“I already have a playlist titled ‘I’d rather die than listen to this song one more time.’ There’s got to be at least one track on there you hate too. ”
He groans and rubs the back of his neck. “Please, whatever you do, don’t put me in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.”
My smirk turns wicked. “Oh, now I have to find the brightest, most obnoxious Hawaiian shirt just because you said that.”
He grumbles something incoherent. “I shouldn’t have given you ammunition, huh?”
“Nope,” I grin wider and lean in until my breath fans his neck. He goes completely still. “I’m already forming a vision. It’s going to be… spectacular.”
“I don’t think I own anything that’s not dark or white.” He admits, chewing the corner of his lip.
My eyes drop to his mouth instantly. Heat crawls up my back and wraps around my neck. Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking about biting that lip myself. I shouldn’t be imagining closing the last inch between us…
But I am.
Vacation chemistry is temporary, I know that. I’m not built to stay in one place for someone who might actually want to keep up with my chaos. Yet sitting here with Milo next to me, this ridiculous wedding-week bingo game feels a lot more interesting than it should.
Four days.
Forced proximity.
Three tasks a day.
Twelve ridiculous squares.
One partner I can’t outrun.
And damn, he’s already making it hard to stay focused.
My stomach flips like a roller coaster loop.
Yeah… this is dangerous.
And I’m not entirely sure I mind it at all.