Page 55 of The Minotaur's Valentine

“Deal!” I burst to my feet with a wide smile.

Libby rolls her eyes, but she still gives me a grin in return. “Head’s up—I’ve never done the whole relationship thing. What the hell do I ‘lavish’ on you?”

“Time, kisses, and cute cat memes in my texts.”

“Oh. Same for me.”

We shake on it. Then we kiss on it.

I don’t mention the fact that I plan to do much more.

Chapter Forty-Six: Libby

Idon't know exactly how I feel about the talk Milo and I just had. It seems too fast and also too good to be true. On the other hand, when the rest of the female population is complaining about guys who don't pull their weight, men who are playing games, and partners that suck at communication, I realize that I just found the motherload polar opposite.

If Milo is telling me the truth, ( I plan to double-check a few things with Doc Peterson at work tomorrow) then this is just how his minotaur culture rolls. I don't want to disrespect that. I also have to decide if I can live with it. Can I live with somebody trying to take care of me and help me all the time? I have a scary (and I am sure unjustified) vision of Milo trying to turn me into June Cleaver and expecting me to wear pearls and high heels while I cook him a giant zucchini loaf, or whatever it is he would eat instead of a meatloaf.

Because of all these thoughts rumbling around in my mind, I'm a little tense as we trundle down Main Street and head out to his house.

“It's just a little bit past the edge of the town. It’s still Pine Ridge, but I guess you’d call it the outskirts. Three miles out. Not out of town, three miles from the Night Market.” As we pass The Pine Loft, Milo pulls the truck over. “Coffee?”

“God, yes.” I skipped coffee for twenty-four hours. I’m going to go into shock. Milo knows about my coffee addiction as I bemoaned it yesterday afternoon. Of course, yesterday afternoon, I was also distracted sufficiently by the big hunk of minotaur beside me.

“You stay here with the boys, and I'll get you what you want. Or I can stay with the boys, and you can go in,” he offers.

It's pretty early, and the coffee shop ought to be closed. I’m not usually up and out this early on a Sunday, but I feel like the few times I’ve passed it before eight on a Sunday morning it’s been closed. On the other hand, I lived in a town with magical creatures for a bunch of months without noticing.

I wonder what else I’ve been missing out on. “Can we go in together? The boys will be all right for a few minutes,” I say, looking at the backseat where the kittens are snuggled up inside Milo's cooler and draped in old towels.

“All right,” Milo says reluctantly, “but if it's going to be longer than a few minutes, I'll come back out. I don't want the boys to get worried.” He gives the kittens an adoring look and gently pokes the sleepy balls of gray fluff.

I know I was just panicking about becoming an apron-wearing homemaker, but suddenly I'm all soupy inside and it has nothing to do with our carnal activities. I can't help but picture Milo giving that sweet, loving look to a baby in a car seat. A little boy in blue onesies with a human face and mini horns, a little brown tail, and tiny hooves that kick merrily as he squeals with joy when I blow raspberries on his tummy.

My breath vanishes. What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking like that? Wait, what’s wrong with those thoughts? I know Milo would be a really wonderful partner and father. Now I have to ask myself why that's so scary. It’s not like it’s going to happen tomorrow.

Just because it’s new doesn’t mean it’s bad. I’ve never had a million bucks before, and I would love that!

Just because you’ve never pictured yourself in a relationship before doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea, I tell myself firmly as I exit the pickup.

The Pine Loft looks dark, but Milo holds the door open for me and I cautiously step inside, almost certain that Georgia, the nice girl who works at the counter, will kick us out.

She doesn’t. Inside, there is a line at the counter and a few people are sitting at tables in the purple twilight of the shop. Its homey golden glow is currently absent, but the smells of coffee, sugar, cinnamon, and pastry live on. I even recognize a few people—like Mr. Minegold who is sipping his coffee behind a crossword. His skin has always been pale, but now I can see that it’s bone white and there’s a ruby cast to his iris—things I never noticed before.

“Doc!” Milo’s startled cry jerks me back to full attention.

The person at the back of the line is—you guessed it—Doc Peterson.

We stare at each other for a minute, then Peterson smiles as he sees Milo and me together. As his gaze shifts, the smile leaves his face and fear replaces it.

He’s looking at me. He’s afraid—of me.

Oh my God. It’s a horrible feeling. I feel like a dreadful beast, a monster.

Wait, is that how all the supernatural folks in Pine Ridge feel? Like they’re repulsive and dangerous to someone who they’d never hurt?

It’s a sucky feeling.

With this sudden understanding, I take Milo's arm extra possessively and smile broadly. “I didn't expect to see you here, Doc!”

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