“Travel food. Rice, vegetables, bacon with seasoned salt.”
“Sounds delicious.” And very filling. Since they’d skipped a lunch stop, Milo had snacked most of the afternoon but was still rather hungry. The smell wafting from the pot got his stomach talking. He may have licked his lips and prayed the food would cook fast.
Rowan’s lips twitched beneath his beard. “I like it. There’s a light beer to go with it. You’re not a lightweight?”
“I can, and have, drunk people under the table.”
There may have been a glint of challenge in Rowan’s eye. “We’ll test that when we reach Gravegarde.”
Milo cackled, grinning back, totally willing to pick up the verbal gauntlet.
Really, it was tragic Rowan didn’t think of himself as a nice person, or likable. Milo liked him already. Only a man who was patient and kind at heart would have taken Milo in stride like Rowan had.
Clearly protective by nature, Rowan had already looked out for Milo and come to his defense. Another rare thing in his world. Milo was used to fending for himself, so Rowan movingto protect him back in Silver Banks had thrown him for a serious loop. He’d wanted to hug the man afterward. It wasn’t even just his steadfast presence, but what he’d said.
Milo had heard quite a few rumors about Andrew floundering with work since they’d broken up. Milo used to help him frequently, knew the magical cases an Advocate was called on meant something had already gone wrong. A prestigious position, an Advocate had a duty to find a solution for the people of Ascos when called upon. Instead, these poor people had asked for help, only to get someone who’d made situations worse. Sometimes Milo felt guilty, wondering if he should’ve sucked it up and kept working with Andrew even after they’d broken up, just so these poor people didn’t have to suffer the consequences.
Rowan’s statement that Andrew’s screwup wasn’t Milo’s doing, therefore not Milo’s fault, had been like a breath of fresh air sweeping through him. Maybe it was because for a straight year, Milo had shouldered all the professional responsibility and the habit lingered. But Rowan was entirely correct—what Andrew did was no longer Milo’s responsibility or problem. He needed to let go of the guilt.
Milo made up his mind right then. Rowan Rangecroft was his cup of tea to the max. The fact no one else around him seemed to realize it was a travesty.
Now, Milo would be the first to admit he was easy. Throw an attractive man in his direction and he’d absolutely try something. Throw someone like Rowan at him, who wasn’t just sexy, but also attentive and sweet natured, and he was ready to strip on command. Damn shame Milo’s teasing earlier had gotten nothing more than a deadpan response, so Rowan likely wasn’t attracted.
Ah well, friends would be brilliant too.
Hmm, that line failed to have the right emotional weight behind it. Try again.
Friends Would Be Brilliant Too.
Nope, still failed to be convincing.
Dammit. All right, maybe Milo should try seduction. If Rowan shut him down, that would be the end of it, but Milo felt driven to try. Mostly because he never seemed to know when to stop, but also because letting this man pass by him seemed like such a fucking waste.
An errant shiver raced over his skin. It was steadily growing chillier as the sun set. Goldguard was much warmer in climate, and even a day northward, the air had noticeably grown cooler. Milo had no meat on his bones, so he felt the cold right down to the quick. He’d packed his warmest clothes, although that wasn’t saying much. They were geared more toward the mild winters of the south. Maybe he should have bought a heavy coat, too. Seemed his current jacket wasn’t really up to the task.
“Hey, Rowan?” Milo took a seat next to him on the log, intending to sit near the fire, but quickly realized the larger man radiated heat, so he tried to scootch in closer. Right now, in this cool night air, his body heat felt delicious. Milo felt like a homing pigeon spying a good roost and trying to figure out how to get into it. “How cold does Gravegarde get?”
The man considered him from the corner of one eye. “Cold,” he answered bluntly. “The snowdrifts can reach the second-story windows.”
“Yikes! Uh, but is that normal? Like, happens during an average year?”
“Fairly normal. We had a warm winter last year and the snows didn’t get that bad.” Rowan turned his head fully, taking in Milo’s hunched posture, his hands tucked inside his jacket. “You’re cold?”
“Look at you, learning how to interpret me. I’m getting there, yeah.”
Without a word, Rowan stood and crossed to the other side of the fire, where the cart sat. Milo pouted at him leaving. So no snuggles? Dammit.
Rowan rummaged around in the cart before pulling something out, a dark material, then shook it out to reveal a cloak. He brought it straight to Milo, swirling the cloak around his shoulders, and then settled on the log beside Milo again. In stunned silence, Milo tugged the fur-lined cloak closer, instantly relaxing into soft warmth, his throat tightening due to a swell of emotions. Then, to Milo’s further surprise, Rowan held an arm out in welcome. His gesture clearly saidcome closer and snuggle.
Hotdiggitydamn.
Milo lost no time in accepting his invitation. He’d plastered himself to Rowan’s side in a second flat, leaning his head against the man’s shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around his cloak-covered back, keeping him close.
Teddy bear. This just confirmed it; the man was absolutely a teddy bear.
“If you’re already cold, you’re going to suffer come winter,” Rowan muttered.
Milo lifted his head slightly, staring at Rowan’s temptingly close face. “I have heating charms I can use if it gets really bad, but I’d prefer snuggles.”
