Rowan #2
I got a peek at it last night, and I’m still flabbergasted by how it’s filled with drinks and barely any food. Milo opens one of the drawers and lets out an “aha!” when he finds a carton of liquid egg whites.
“And there’s a pan here somewhere as well,” Milo mutters to himself and starts rifling through the drawers in his kitchen.
When he finds it, he does an adorable happy dance that has his butt wiggling much too seductively for my self-control. I look toward the living room and the cityscape outside the window.
I’m used to loud sirens, horns honking, or even the laughter and conversation of groups hanging out on the stoop of my building. Noise is the heart of New York City, but here in Milo’s world, there’s nothing but silence and Milo muttering, “How do you turn this on again?”
I jolt back toward the kitchen to find him fiddling with the range and stride to his side. “Uh, Milo. Quick question.”
“Yeah?” He turns to face me while still trying to turn the knob. I grab his hand without thinking, because the last thing we need today is to have a kitchen fire. I can’t be the guy who lets his client burn down his house within the first week.
“Do you know how to cook?” I ask cautiously.
He shrugs. “Sure, it can’t be that hard. I just have to figure out how to turn the damn thing on first. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Oh god.
I’m starting to get an even clearer sense of why Ray calls him goblin. Maybe the reason Milo needs a bodyguard isn’t to protect him from others, but to protect him from himself.
“How about I cook?”
“Oh, I couldn’t have you do that.”
“I insist. I would love to cook for you,” I say through a tight smile. I’m not the best chef, but I’m confident I won’t burn the place down.
“Well, all right,” Milo concedes, then he lowers his gaze to our hands, where I’m still tightly clutching his hand, which is dwarfed in mine.
I quickly drop it and mumble an apology. Milo continues to stare at his hand like it’s a foreign object. “Sorry, did I hurt you? I forget my strength sometimes.”
That pulls him out of his daze. “Nope, don’t believe you can ever hurt me,” he says cheerfully. “In fact, I don’t think you have a single mean bone in your body.”
“I think you forget what I do for a living,” I say with a snort and gesture for Milo to step aside so that I can get started on cooking. Milo gives me space but opts to hover nearby. He watches as I fire up the range with little issue and add oil to the pan.
“That only proves my point. You protect people for a living! That’s like the complete opposite of mean. You’re an angel, aren’t you? Sent from the heavens to grace my life.”
I snort again and add the egg whites. The only way I know how to cook them is scrambled, so that’s what we’re having for breakfast.
“I mean it. You have meals with me, and you’re even cooking for me! And you stayed.”
The emphasis on the last word makes my heart pang again. I clear my throat and move the spatula around so the egg whites don’t burn.
“I’m sure any number of people would kill to do any of those things with you. And I mean, they might actually commit murder if it meant they could have a simple meal with the Milo Tobitt. Just take my niece, for example.”
Milo chuckles. “Reagan, right?”
“Yeah,” I say roughly. My throat is choked by the fact he remembers her name when I’ve only mentioned her in passing. “She’s your biggest fan.”
Milo’s laugh is musical, but it still sounds a little hollow in my ears. “We can most definitely grab a meal with her sometime,” he says lightly.
There’s something in his tone that has me pausing. I turn off the burner and plate the finished eggs before turning to him.
“While that would make Reagan’s day, I didn’t say that to force you into doing it. You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
“No, that’s not it,” Milo reassures me.
He shifts and chews on his bottom lip again.
I always thought he used some kind of lip product for them to always be so red—after all, it’s not uncommon for men to wear makeup these days—but now I think his lips are red because he’s always nibbling on them.
And if so, does that mean he’s nervous a lot?
It’s hard to reconcile the confident, full-of-life, almost chaotic person I’ve gotten to know these past few days with the one in front of me now. The one who seems uncertain and lost.
I doubt it’s a side many people see, and the fact he’s showing it to me tickles something inside of me that’s stirring up my protective instincts.
I hate that he feels uncertain, but I’m also honored that he’s comfortable enough to show it in front of me. It’s a contradiction of feelings, if anything, and just more proof that Milo has me all mixed up inside.
“It’s just… It’s not really me they like, you know?” he says.
“How do you mean?”
“It’s all fake, you know? A show of what is marketable, of what the fans want to see. It’s not me. Not really.”
The air of loneliness that surrounded him last night returns, and it takes everything in me not to pull him into a hug, because…it’s totally inappropriate, even if I want to say screw it all right now.
“I think nobody is one-dimensional. We all have different sides, and we all act differently depending on the situation. Everyone acts differently at work than they do with their friends. It’s like—what did Reagan call it?
—oh, right, a customer-service voice. You put up this cheerful front because it’s your job. ”
Milo laughs. “I can’t imagine you having a ‘customer-service voice.’”
“That’s because I don’t.”
“Why, because you’re Mr. Big Baddy and you only need to use your muscles to talk?”
I roll my eyes at him, but I’m glad he’s teasing me and laughing with his heart again.
“Anyway, my point is that it’s still a part of you. Sure, you might be leaning heavily into some people’s fantasies, but I’ve heard you sing. That’s all you. Your heart and your chaotic energy. It’s you people fell in love with,” I conclude, and Milo is quiet again.
He’s staring at me with an intensity that could knock even a big guy like me off my feet. And then his face morphs—no, blossoms—into a smile that buries itself straight into my heart.
It’s not a customer-service smile that’s full of straight teeth and even form. It’s pure teasing and chaos and all Milo, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.