On that, Rowan could agree. Nothing like the man who had hurt him. “If you date in Gravegarde, ask me first. I know who to avoid.”
“Awww, you’re looking out for me too? You’re such a teddy bear! Thanks, Rowan. I’m totally taking you up on the offer.”
Teddy bear.Teddy bear? With his face? Rowan pointed to himself in disbelief, tone incredulous. “Me?”
“Sure you are. A teddy bear on the inside.”
Was Milo dropped as a child? Frequently? Rowan could think of no other explanation.
But, well, it was kinda nice to have a traveling companion who thought so highly of him. It meant they’d have a decent trip without it being laced with lethal tension. And maybe, by the trip’s end, Rowan could figure out how to react to this man. He truly wanted to understand why he felt so protective of Milo already and why he’d become emotionally invested in Milo’s well-being. Such strange behavior for him, but not a bad thing, not at all.
Rowan felt as if, at the very least, Milo would be an amazing friend.
3
Milo
Rowan explained how he traveled this route often, at least twice a year, so he knew the best places to stop. There was no inn between Silver Banks and Northgate, just these small hamlets that didn’t boast enough of a populace to even have a tavern. By necessity, they had to camp the first night. Rowan said he knew a good spot, one with a small creek nearby, and he directed Milo there without hesitation.
This stretch of the highway had sparsely populated forest, so really the spot was a clearing next to the road and little else. There were signs this place saw consistent use, likely from other travelers, which didn’t surprise Milo any.
Now, the man he traveled with? Full of surprises.
When Milo had taken the assignment, the woman issuing it had given him a brief physical description so he could find Rowan. Her description didn’t do him a lick of justice.
The man wasbuilt. Even through the layers of clothes, Milo could detect the raw strength Rowan possessed. He looked like he could crush lesser beings with nothing more than a pointed stare. It didn’t help that most of his expressions were obscured by long golden-red locks and a full beard. Milo wasn’t blind to his intimidating physique, but throughout the day, he’d seen glimpses of Rowan’s heart as well. The way he’d circled back to chastise the matron for blaming Andrew’s mistakes on him had been quite telling, but Milo chattering the entire day and not being told to shut up even once was most telling of all.
Rowan had a heart of gold. He was the definition of the exterior not matching the contents.
Although the exterior was yummy. If Milo thought he had even half a chance, he’d jump that man, not going to lie.
Once at the campsite, they automatically took the chores they were comfortable doing. Fortunately, Rowan assured him he could handle dinner.
Milo, sadly, could not be trusted with the cooking. He did try, he earnestly did, but things tended to come out very wrong. His most recent attempt at baking had turned out perfect-looking pretzels…that tasted like shit.
So, no. No cooking for him.
Rowan didn’t seem to mind cooking. He set right to it, peeling veggies. He’d tied his hair back to keep it out of the food, satdown on a log, paring knife in hand, and carefully peeled and diced up vegetables.
Watching a man cook should not be mouthwatering, right? Yet here was Milo, pulling at his shirt for a little ventilation, feeling a bit hot and bothered. It was somehow completely in line with the man he’d traveled with all day that he would quietly and competently go about tasks. Rowan was clearly the type to be methodical and patient.
And to think people had told this sweet man he was cold and emotionally unavailable. The absolute gall. Milo felt like hexing a few idiots on Rowan’s behalf.
Oops, he was starting to stare. Couldn’t have that. Milo deliberately turned his back on Rowan, letting him cook. While he did that, Milo noted the fading sunlight and decided to first set up a barrier around their campsite for the night. Then he wandered into the tree line and gathered up more firewood because he didn’t think they had enough in the cart. When he returned, Rowan accepted the offering with a grunt and nod of thanks.
The man seriously didn’t talk much. He also didn’t seem to know how to react to Milo half the time, an opinion shared by most of humanity. Milo could be a lot, even he admitted that, but he also couldn’t help thinking aloud. About everything.
Rowan at least didn’t seem to mind the chatter. Even responded sincerely to all of the crazy shit Milo said. He couldn’t find the words to explain how much it meant that Rowan engaged with him and didn’t outright ignore him. So many people got tired of listening and tuned him out. Milo would shut up, he really would, people just had to give him an idea they were tired. He liked to talk. Favorite pastime, really. He didn’t mean to wear people out though.
Milo was also well aware he didn’t always think ahead and made snap decisions—like the idea of leaving Goldguard andcoming up north for a year. And yeah, Ethel and Ray had cautioned him against making impulsive decisions, but half the time they worked out well, so why stop? Like right now, this impulse was already paying off in spades. Not only did he not have an Andrew to worry about, but he also had this wonderful, scrumptious man cooking for him.
Impulsivity rocked.
Milo got the horses fed and settled in for the night before going back and rolling out his bedroll. He observed Rowan putting the cast-iron Dutch oven into the fire’s coals, layering a handful on top. “Whatcha making?”
“Rice goulash.”
“I have no idea what that is.”