Page 68 of The Minotaur's Valentine

I swallow hard and blink while I kick the pickup back into drive.

“Milo, wait!”

Libby is springing back in the cab for one long, searing kiss that sends blood pounding through me. “I’ll be home by 5:30. Quick dinner when you drop off the boys?”

“Come with me for a few hours of work? I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

She beams. “Perfect.”

Libby dashes inside as a gust sends sparkling snow off the roofs and across my windshield.

The radio crackles to life as I careen sloppily back onto the deserted street. “It’s going to be a cold evening,” says Jasper Wainwright, Pine Ridge’s own weatherman.

I tug on my collar and let out a deep breath that fogs the windshield, my temples (and other places) throbbing just from the way Libby kissed me goodbye. “Eat your heart out, Jasper. We’re getting ready for a heatwave.”

Chapter Fifty-Three: Libby

It hits me by Friday morning.

I am in a relationship.

Like, a real, actual relationship with a guy who I like. One I think I love, even if I don’t say it to him outside of spontaneous brain-melting orgasms.

My mother told me about Red Flags to avoid when dating. My Aunt Karen was a Red Flag in spandex married to a Red Flag in platform shoes and hair plugs. I know about all of the things I should avoid.

No one prepared me for all the Green Flags.

Red Flag: He ghosts you or is hard to get a hold of. He makes excuses why you can’t get together.

Milo? Milo calls me on my lunch break and randomly texts me pictures of the kittens throughout the day. He’s at my apartment right before or right after I get home, and he usually has three things I want—a hug, kittens, and a snack.

Red Flag: He doesn’t communicate.

Milo? He talks without a safety net. I’m worried that someone will hurt him because he’s so open and honest. It is like he’s been corked up for all of his life and now he has someone he trusts to share all of his thoughts and feelings with. This means I’m the one he trusts. I’m the one who can hurt him.

If I ever hurt him, I’m punching myself in the face and keying my own car.

Red Flag: He’s afraid to commit.

Milo: Milo is in full husband-daddy mode. He spoils those kittens with everything but bibs and high chairs. He gave me a key to his place in case I ever need to get in to grab stuff for the cats “or just because you want to hang out there.” We’re having dinner with his parents. I have an open invitation to stop by his “office.”

Red Flag: He cheats, he’s never interested in sex, or he’s only interested in sex.

Milo: I trust him. He makes it easy for me to get in touch, to see where he is, and to know about what he’s doing. If we’re not together—we were wishing we could be.

As for the sex bit... I am spoiled for all other lovers. Milo is a fucking sex god with hooves and horns. But he’s also very content just to be near me and cuddle.

Red Flag: He’s too good to be true.

Milo:

Dang it.

I DON’T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND to talk to when I need one. I have Doc. I have Freddy and Felix. I have Milo.

I have—coffee all over the counter. And milk and sugar. What the hell happened?

Oh yeah. Trying to get coffee while your mind and eyes are elsewhere leads to disasters. “Um. I need a mop.”

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