The Consequence of Loving Colton

“Yeah.” Milo looked miles away.

“Thanks for helping me with the ice.”

She beamed.

That smile slammed through my body. I used to live for her smiles, used to live for her visits. When she first went away to college, it had felt like a part of me left with her, but it wasn’t like I was able to ever actually say that out loud.

I’d wanted her for years.

But wanting and having were two very different things.

I’d rather never have her—than lose her as a friend. And I’d come so damn close to losing her last night. So yeah, I shoved my foot into my mouth and nearly suffocated to death—but at least we could go back to normal. Right?

“So, Max . . .” I held open the door as we walked out into the brisk morning air. “He’s . . . nice.”

“Liar.” She nudged me in the shoulder. “But I appreciate you trying.”

“Maybe I’d respect him more if he didn’t maul you in front of me.”

“Hmm.” Milo shrugged. “You didn’t seem to mind any mauling last night.”

“Milo—”

“No.” Her smile appeared forced. “It’s fine. Friends, right?”

I knew that look. She was still pissed. But she had a boyfriend! She’d cheated; so if anyone had a right to be pissed it was me—not her.

I grabbed her hand with my free hand and tugged her against me, leaning down so our foreheads almost touched. “Right. Friends.”

Her eyes flashed.

Hell, the pull she had on me was otherworldly. I wanted to close the distance between our mouths. I was desperate to touch her again, even with her boyfriend a few feet away.

“Ice!” Jason yelled. “In pain over here!”

With a chuckle I tossed the ice pack in his direction and turned back to face Milo. But she was already walking into Max’s waiting arms.

I’d done that.

I’d forced her hand, it was the only explanation my pride would allow me to come up with. I’d always felt something between us, and now that something was sizzling into nothing—fast. I’d successfully pushed her back into the arms of her idiot boyfriend because I freaked out over a kiss.

All because I was afraid.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MILO

Max whistled. “Well done.”

“I’m sweating.”

“As you should be with the way he manhandled you.”

We were standing side by side, talking in hushed tones while I waited for Jason to stop hopping around on one foot, and for Colton to come back and join me. It had been Max’s idea to switch jobs.

I had argued.

He’d firmly told me he was going to get me into Colton’s pants if it was the last thing he did.

Guys were confusing. One minute Max was pissed that I didn’t see him as a sexy, available man and minutes later he was plotting ways to get me laid.

“Tell me again,” Max mumbled under his breath.

“No.”

“Milo.” He grinned. “I need to know that you know the instructions I’ve so tirelessly given you over the past few minutes.”

“Smile, act evasive, brush his arm . . .” I coughed into my hand as I mumbled the final point.

“What was the last one?” Max winked. “Come on, Milo, let’s hear it.”

Heat rushed into my face. “Bend over.”

“Atta girl.”

“Not a dog.”

“You have a nice ass.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. “And guys are turned on by sight. It’s a scientific fact. He’s not blind, believe me, he’ll take the bait.”

“If he doesn’t?” I asked in a small voice.

Max leaned over and kissed my temple. “Then you and I can always make out and watch chick flicks while you cry into your ice cream, and then I can beat his ass.”

“I do like kissing you.” It didn’t give me butterflies or anything but he had nice lips, and if I tried really hard I could see what other girls saw, but there wasn’t that pull, just friendship, nothing more.

Max sighed and rolled his eyes as if he’d heard my declaration a million times before. “Everyone likes kissing me.”

“Not a humble bone in your body, is there?”

“Not a one.” He saluted. “Looks like lover boy’s on his way over. Have fun!” He ran off toward Jason, who looked like a gang had just jumped him, and started setting up tables.

“He gonna be okay?” I pointed at Jason.

Colton turned around and winced as Jason fell out of his chair. “Yeah, he’ll be fine, it’s just a bump.”

“Ha, a bump.” I laughed it off and shifted my weight between both feet like a middle schooler during recess. “Kind of like the black eye.”

“All accidental,” Colton snapped. “Okay, how do we do this shit?”

“Wow, weddings just bring out the romance in guys, don’t they?” I pulled out the fake flowers and started grouping them on the table.

“They’re flowers. Do I look like the type of guy who wants to arrange flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Milo,” Colton growled.

“Show me your tattoo and I’ll say no.”

He lifted his shirt.

I gave him a nod. “No, Colton. You’re a muscled badass with a tattoo—you don’t do flowers.”

“Somehow I imagined that compliment feeling better,” he mused, picking up one of the silk roses.