4. Connor #2
I stop dead two feet away from him, stunned into silence.
No one talks to me like that. Not in years. Not ever, really. My eyebrows shoot up, and for a second I just stare at him, this tiny slip of a boy with flushed cheeks and fire in those bright blue eyes.
To my own damn surprise, I stay quiet.
Milo takes a quick breath, like he can’t believe he just said that either, then reaches around and shrugs off his small backpack. He unzips it and pulls out a simple white box tied with a little red ribbon.
“I brought you a gift,” he says, holding it out toward me. “To say thank you. For helping me with my bike. You didn’t have to do any of that, and you did. So… thank you, Connor.”
I look at the box, then back at his face. He’s biting his lower lip, clearly nervous but determined. The sight of him standing on my land, offering me something after I basically barked at him to stay away, does strange things to my chest. And lower.
“I don’t do sweet things,” I mutter, not taking the box yet.
His shoulders drop just a fraction. That bright, hopeful look flickers, and something twists behind my ribs. Damn it. Those big blue eyes and that soft, despondent little pout hit harder than they should.
I let out a heavy sigh and take the box from his hands. Our fingers brush. His skin is warm, soft. Electricity shoots straight down my spine and straight to my cock. I ignore it.
“But…” I add, voice gruff, “I’ll make an exception for you. Just this once.”
I can’t quite believe the words that just came out of my mouth. What the hell am I doing?
Milo’s face lights up like I just handed him the moon. A delighted smile spreads across his lips, and the boy rocks up onto his toes for a second. The way his small but toned biceps flex as he moves is impossible to miss and I have to force my eyes back up to his face.
“I was really hoping you might say that,” he says, voice bubbly and sweet in a way that should annoy me but somehow doesn’t. “I made you coffee too. It’ll still be hot.”
I watch as he takes a thermos of coffee out of his backpack.
Damn, he’s got it all covered. My pot of coffee is fine, but I know that he will have actually made an effort with his. Fuck . How can I resist?
I roll my eyes and turn toward the cabin, jerking my head for him to follow.
“Come on, then. One cake,” I growl. “That’s it. Then you’re gone.”
Milo falls into step beside me, practically skipping as we head up to the deck. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way—curious, a little nervous, and something else I don’t want to name.
My mind is spinning.
I swore off this shit a long time ago.
Boys. Complications. Getting close to anyone.
After everything that went down in my twenties, I made a promise to myself: stay alone, stay safe, stay in control.
And yet here I am, inviting the most talkative, stubborn, tempting little brat I’ve met in years up onto my deck like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I set the box down on the small table next to my notebook and coffee pot. The dogs trot over, sniffing curiously. I drop into my chair and nod at the other one—the one no one has sat in for longer than I care to remember.
“Sit,” I say. It comes out harsher than I intend, but Milo doesn’t flinch. He sits, smoothing his shorts over his thighs, looking far too comfortable on my private deck.
I open the box. Inside are six perfect homemade cupcakes—chocolate, from the smell of them, with thick frosting and little swirls on top. They look ridiculous. Sweet. Wholesome. Everything I don’t need in my life.
But I pick one up anyway. It’s still slightly warm. He must have baked them this morning and hiked all the way out here. The thought does something dangerous to my resolve.
I take a bite. Rich chocolate explodes on my tongue, moist, sweet, with a hint of something deeper—maybe espresso?
Holy hell. It’s fucking good. Better than good. I chew slowly, watching him watch me. His hands are clasped in his lap, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Well?” Milo asks, unable to stay quiet for long. “And try your coffee too.”
Milo pours a cup of his specialty coffee for me as I chew the mouthful of cake.
I swallow and grunt. “It’s… acceptable.”
I take the coffee and sip it. Even before it hits my taste buds, I sense it’s going to be good. And my instincts aren’t wrong.
“God damn,” I say, desperately failing to hide just how incredible Milo’s coffee skills are.
Milo laughs, bright and unrestrained. The sound hits me square in the chest and travels lower. My cock thickens against my jeans.
I push the box toward him. “ One . Like I said.”
Milo picks the smallest one, peels the paper liner with delicate fingers, and takes a dainty bite. A tiny bit of frosting ends up on his lower lip. He licks it off without thinking, and I have to look away, gripping my coffee mug tighter than necessary.
We sit in silence for a minute—me working on my second bite, him looking around at the cabin, the dogs, the view like he’s memorizing everything. I can practically hear the questions bubbling up inside him.
I clear my throat. “How the hell did you even find this place?”
Milo shrugs, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips.
“I asked around. Discreetly. And I may have followed the trail past the broken fence you mentioned fixing. I didn’t go snooping around your land, I promise. I just… wanted to say thank you properly.”
He’s omitting something. A detail. A nuance. I narrow my eyes. “You’re pushing your luck, little boy.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. Little boy. The Daddy in me—the part I’ve kept locked down for years—stirs hard at the way his cheeks flush pink and his thighs press together under those shorts.
But Milo doesn’t look away. If anything, his eyes get brighter.
I finish the cupcake in two more bites and wipe my hands on my jeans. “Alright. Thank you delivered. Time for you to head back before it gets dark.”
But I don’t stand up. Not yet.
Milo tilts his head, studying me like I’m some puzzle he’s determined to solve.
“You know,” Milo says. “For someone with such a scary reputation, you’re not nearly as mean as everyone says.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, pinning him with a hard stare. “Don’t mistake this for nice, Milo. I’m still the man who wants to be left alone. One cupcake and a sensational coffee doesn’t change that.”
He nods, but that stubborn spark is still there in his eyes. “Understood. But… I’m still glad I came.”
I stand up abruptly, needing distance before I do something stupid like pull him into my lap and see just how bratty that mouth can really get. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the trail.”
Milo rises too, brushing crumbs from his shorts. He’s close enough that I catch the faint scent of him—vanilla, coffee, and something warm and innocent that makes my blood run hotter.
As we start down the path, Shadow and Spirit trotting along beside us, I glance sideways at the boy. He’s humming softly under his breath, swinging his empty backpack like he just won some kind of victory.
I shake my head, jaw tight.
What the hell am I doing?
I swore myself off boys a long time ago. Swore off everything that could crack the armor I built to survive.
And yet this blue-eyed, cupcake-baking, bike-crashing Little has me breaking every rule I set for myself in the space of twenty minutes.
I don’t know whether to be pissed off… or terrified of how much I don’t hate it.
Oh, and I haven’t forgot about that little omission of Milo’s either. Whatever he’s hiding from me, I’m going to find out.
And sooner rather than later, too…