Page 56 of The Minotaur's Valentine

“I could say the same thing about you. What are you doing here?”

“Milo and I are just getting a coffee before we head back to his house for the day. I'm going to see the forge.”

“Yeah. I'm going to make Libby a dagger of her very own. Not that she'll ever have reason to use it, but I thought she'd like one,” Milo blushes and shuffles his hooves.

Doc looks between us, a slow smile spreading over his face. “I take it the foster kitten exchange went well?”

“Very well,” I answer quickly, and I know that I'm blushing, too. It’s pretty obvious that Milo and I are more than casual acquaintances at this point. Peterson doesn’t push it.

At the counter, Peterson tells Georgia, “My usual, and Libby will have a large cinnamon streusel coffee, extra whipped cream. Milo, it’s on me. What’ll you have?”

“Thanks, Doc. Uh... Wheatgrass and strawberry smoothie, Georgia. Double XL.”

“Sure thing, sweetie, but I still have to prep the wheatgrass. Give me about ten minutes to get the quick orders out of the way?”

“Of course. Hey, Libby, I’m going to wait in the car with the kittens.” Milo leans forward as if he’s going to kiss me, then stops and pats my shoulder awkwardly.

Doc and I take our coffees to an empty table while we wait for the smoothie.

“Libby. How was your date with Ricky?” Doc asks after we sip in silence.

“It started out okay. Then it got weird. But Milo and I ended up hitting it off.” I limit my information to generalities—and then plunge in. “Tell me about minotaurs. Are they really into protecting people and all about family stuff?”

Doc nods. “Whatever you heard in mythology is just that—mythology. Minotaurs are driven to protect, not harm. If you have a friend who is a minotaur, you have a powerful ally, a friend for life. If you have one as a partner, then you’re fortunate indeed.”

“I see. Th-that’s good.” I sip my coffee and search for words to fill the strained silence.

Boss to the rescue. “I never meant to deceive you. I couldn’t tell you about the people of Pine Ridge right away. I—I hope I didn’t put you at risk.”

I’m not mad. He tried to warn me about Ricky, and it’s not his fault that I didn’t get it. Yeah, maybe he should have been blunter, but it’s not like I would have believed him.

Milo’s love makes me feel braver. I reach out and squeeze Doc’s hand. “I don’t blame you. But I’m glad I know the truth now.”

Peterson’s eyes seem to shine. “Nothing changes between us? You’ll stay on? You’ll take over the practice when I retire?”

“Of course! Yes, if you still want me to!”

“I do. But now that you know the truth... I really have no intention of retiring. I may look quite elderly as a human, but mid-sixties is young for a satyr. My father lived to be three hundred and twenty-nine. I was actually hoping you’d be my partner in the practice one day, and then you could give me a few years of sabbatical if I ever get the urge to go a-wandering.”

“And you’ll cover my maternity leave?” I say before I can think.

Holy crap.

Peterson beams. “Without a doubt.” His voice drops. “Milo makes you think maternal thoughts, does he?”

I can’t lie to Doc, especially not now. “Yeah. A little. Some.”

“That’s normal. Even though you’re a human, you’re very in tune with animals. Not that Milo is an animal in anything except appearance. What I’m trying to say—badly—is that you respond to his minotaur nature more than another woman might. I daresay you feel comfortable around him and with him. When someone comes along like that, you can imagine a future with them. I know I imagined a paternal sort of future with you. I have had other vet techs before, Libby. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to take on as a partner or successor. You’re—hrm—like a child of mine. To me. Hrm.” Peterson studies the table.

I leave it and go hug him. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You could call me Dad if you ever wanted to,” he whispers as we embrace.

“Thanks... Dad.”

Chapter Forty-Seven: Milo

Libby gets into my car sniffling. At first, I think it's just the cold air making her nose run and her cheeks pink, but then I notice she is struggling not to cry. All of my “protect and defend” alarms go off. “What is it? Who said something to you?” I demand.

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