Page 277 of Labor of Love

He glanced up at me from under his lashes and my heart started doing the conga in my chest. “Okay. Dinner sounds good.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

I grabbed his hand and he let me take it, and dragging the cooler behind me, I towed Milo up the dock and to the marina parking lot, trying to ignore how right his hand felt clasped in mine.

3

MILO

“Welcome to the Ice House.” Noah held the door open for me and let me cross the threshold in front of him. His hand landed on my lower back as I passed him, and a spark of heat and awareness hummed through my body just like it had when he’d saved me from falling by crushing me against his broad, muscular chest. My body responded immediately, wanting more of his touch, but he dropped his hand as the door closed behind us, and I tried not to pout at the loss of contact.

It had been too long since I’d experienced casual touch. Hell, it had been too long since I’d experienced touch of any kind that wasn’t from my own hand or the drawer full of toys Marco had shamed me for having. I should have been used to it by now. I had my new gallery to focus on, but since the second I’d met Noah Cove, all I could think about was how badly I wanted his hands on me, and while it was a distraction I craved, it was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

I blew out a breath and looked around the dimly lit interior of the bar.

“Wow.” The outside of the bar was fairly nondescript, just a white clapboard building with blue lights, but inside it had been made to look like an arctic tiki bar. The walls were painted paleblue and the tables and chairs were all white. The U-shaped bar that was the center piece of the room had been textured and painted to make it look like it had been made from blocks of ice, and where the typical wooden tiki idols should have been were tiki statues that had been painted to look like they’d been carved from ice. One was even wearing a trapper hat complete with fur-lined ear flaps. Round, blue, glass lamps in nets hung over each table and blue lights lit up the underside of the bar. The floor was concrete that had been painted white and blue to look like an iceberg.

As a shifter who thrived in the cold, the entire aesthetic was immensely appealing.

“Hey, Noah!” The huge man, rocking a walrus mustache, behind the bar lifted his hand in greeting.

Noah waved back. “Hey, Mags.” He grabbed my hand again and pulled me to the bar where two seats had just opened up. “Busy night.”

“You know how it is. Everyone loves Taco Tuesday.” The big man turned to study me, then held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I’m Magnus Davenport. And you are?”

I took his hand. It was surprisingly rough and warm. “I’m Milo Frost.”

“Milo just bought the vacant building on Caroline. He’s turning it into an art gallery.”

“Really? That’s great. Does that mean you’re moving to town?” Magnus picked up a glass from below the bar and stacked it next to several others within easy reach.

“I already moved, I guess. Last week.”

Magnus’s bushy brows rose. “And this is the first time you’ve come in? Tell me you haven’t been hitting up the competition.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t really left the gallery all that much. Lots to do.”

“I get that. Before I ask you another twenty questions, what can I get you to drink?”

“Noah said something about a key lime margarita. That sounds good.”

Magnus glanced at Noah, who held up two fingers, and the big man nodded. “Two key lime margaritas coming up.” He started to gather the ingredients all while keeping his focus on me. It was testament to his comfort behind the bar that he didn’t even need to look to know where everything was. “So, Milo, where are you from?” He sniffed the air twice, his nose scrunching and his mustache twitching. “I’m getting big cat and cold, so I’m guessing you’re a snow leopard shifter.”

“Got it in one. I grew up in Buffalo, but moved to Chicago for college and work.”

Magnus nodded. “I moved down here from Alaska. There are actually a surprising number of cold weather shifters in town considering where we are.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you can make it through the first summer, you’ll be fine.” Magnus picked up the cocktail shaker and shook it over his shoulder in several deft movements before straining the contents into two graham cracker and brown sugar-rimmed glasses and sliding them across the bar. “Here ya go.” He looked at Noah, whose expression had gone blank, then at me. “Are you eating or just drinking?”

“Eating.” Noah’s tone was a little frosty, but I didn’t understand why. Magnus raised his eyebrows then tipped his head toward me. Noah’s eyes widened, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. I had no idea what any of their nonverbal conversation meant, but Magnus nodded. “No worries, Noah. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.” He reached across the bar and slapped Noah on the shoulder, then turned to beam at me, his smile still warm, but somehow a little distant after thatweird exchange. “Three taco dinner is the special tonight. Steak, chicken, or chorizo served with rice and beans.”

“Steak, please.”

Magnus knocked on the bar. “Chorizo for you, right, Noah?” Noah nodded, his sunny expression back in place. “I’ll go put that in. Flag me or Sheila down when you need a refill.”

When Magnus was gone, I spun on my stool to face Noah. “What was all that?”

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