Page 12 of Dream Girl

“Lucky me,” he says.

I wrinkle my nose, huffing up my cheeks. “Why are you extra mean today?”

“I’m the same every day,” he corrects. I grin at his breath tickles my cheek.

“Don’t go outside,” he warns again. “I don’t want to have to dig you out with a shovel.”

“You’d do it anyway.” I press my lips to his cheek, wrapping my arms around his neck and kneeling on the bed to be closer to him.

“I’m not your Prince Charming,” he utters, and I know that.

He is more than a pretty boy riding on a horse and carrying me off to the sunset with the mansion’s housekeepers waving us off into happily ever after.

Milo is a soldier in the flesh, a warrior at heart.

“You’re my prickly knight in shining armor.”

Chapter Four

Milo

“Yo!”

I lower the water bottle in my hand, glaring through my lashes at the blond-haired man. His goofy grin and a wave of his hand mean he’s trying to get my attention, but I pointedly ignore him.

He’s not deterred by my silence and comes to stand in front of me, hands on his hips and laughing at the top of his lungs. I don’t understand why he’s bothering me when there are other people around.

I remember him from the coffee shop.

Eddie, I mentally spit out.

He’s in the same physical therapy location, and I just happen to come in at the same time as him. Out of all the physical therapy locations around the city, I just have to have him in mine and at the same time too.

I’m contemplating if I should relocate Amelia and me to a reclusive area to avoid human contact, but Amelia is a social creature that likes to talk to people. It’s a loveable and dreadful trait of hers that means our compatibility lowers.

I go out of my way to avoid people, and she goes out of her way to make friends as if it’s the last thing she’s going to do on this damn planet.

“Didn’t know you’d be coming in today!” he exclaims loudly, drawing attention from people around us.

One of the men setting down his dumbbell cocks an eyebrow at this strange interaction, and I would love to be in his place rather than being the object of this man’s attention.

“You usually come in earlier,” Eddie says, humming and locking his hands behind his head.

The casual swing of his weight on his feet is dangerous as he tips back a couple of steps. I secure my water bottle, dropping it down on the bench that I’m sitting on. Eddie shoots me another grin, tilting his head; the collar of his shirt is wet from his sweat.

It seems that my routine has become noticeable, and that is bad. I shouldn’t allow someone like Eddie to be able to pick up on my daily routine. It’s risky for me, and despite not being in the Navy anymore, there is still a possibility that I’m going to be targeted for classified operation intel.

“Stalker,” I say, letting my thought slip from my lips as the man takes a step back with a hand to his chest.

He clenches his shirt. “I’m just observant, okay? It’s not my fault you’re like some kind of a legend around here.”

I wasn’t aware that I was anything but a man coming into physical therapy. No one had made any whispers or side-glances at me for any suspicion to rise. This is one of the most secured physical therapy locations that allows veterans to focus on their bodies rather than splitting their concentration with potential threats.

It’s not limited to veterans, but it’s going to take a lot of screening to be able to come inside here. I choose this for that exact reason because everyone is a veteran and has seen battle as I have, and their integrity is admirable through their effort to become better.

I have seen progress in many people who were injured in the line of duty, but there are some who had fallen in despair due to unyielding results from their work.

“Your Navy tattoo isn’t that secretive.” He points at my arm, and my eyes flicker down to find the ink.