Page 9 of More Than a Spark

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” I scoffed, shook my head, and drank more beer. Not when none of the men I’d dated could compare to him. “Dad still makes offhanded remarks about my sexuality though. It’s like he makes fun of it and tries to pull it off as a joke.” And cheating on Mom while she was saving babies at work? That was something I’d never forgiven him for.

“Yeah, that’s shitty.” His eyes widened and focused on me, his face going white. “Uh, Milo, I uh…”

“What?” I furrowed my brows. Was something wrong? Was he going to puke or something? “You okay?” I straightened and grabbed his hand.

He gaped. “No, I’m fine. I’m uh…” He squeezed my hand, then tore it free. “You shouldn’t have to hear crap about your sexuality from your dad. That’s all.” He hung his head.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” I chewed my lower lip. I was pretty sure he’d just lied to me about something and that was not like him at all.

“I should get started on dinner.” He jumped from the couch with his canned beer and strode into the kitchen.

FOUR

RYDER

Iunpacked the rest of the grocery bags I’d brought in, setting fettuccini pasta, a jar of sun-dried tomatoes and a jar of artichoke hearts on the island counter, then drew a deep inhale. I’d had an opening to talk to Milo about what had happened with Tate, but I blew it. Did I really have to tell Milo about it? I snuck a peek at him while he strolled into the kitchen and my heart flickered. But it might change things between us. Something was already feeling off between us, and I’d been trying to act so normal.

Milo stepped to my side and the warmth of his slight body next to mine sparked heat low in my belly.

“What can I help you with here?” He set a hand on the counter and turned to face me.

I glanced at him, so close. When had his eyes become so vibrant? When did I start enjoying the bare skin of his abs under his crop top? He’d been wearing those for years and I’d barely noticed the sexy curve of his belly button or the V running into his jeans. But now my eyeballs wouldn’t stop taking notice. And my dick? Was Milo really turning me on? Tate, the bastard, did he turn me gay somehow?

“Ryder? You okay?” Milo set his hand on my lower back and leaned into me. “I asked you what you want me to do.”

“I-I know. I’m thinking here.” I gave a forced laugh. “Maybe you should sit back and relax, and we can keep chatting while I cook. Does that sound all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” He knitted his brows, then rounded the counter and sank into a chair at the wooden dinette, not far from the kitchen island. Running his finger over the top of his can, he said, “What do you want to watch tonight?”

“Oh, don’t know. Maybe we can find a good stand-up comedian?” I grabbed the chicken from the refrigerator and a cutting board with a knife that was already laid out next to the stove, and cut the chicken into bite-sized chunks. “You do have olive oil around here, right?” Focusing on food was helping to calm my thoughts.

“Yeah, we do.” Milo sat back in his seat, spreading his long legs out under the table. “Funny, but if you’d asked me that a few months ago, we might not have had it. Jeremy started cooking for us when he moved in. Before that, we had a lot of frozen pizza.”

I nodded, working on cutting up the tomatoes. “Yeah, that figures with you all being college boys. I’ve learned so much about cooking from the guys at the station. We eat well when we’re on shift.” I stepped around the kitchen, opening cupboard drawers and checking the contents, then pulled out a pan and pot from a lower cupboard. As I stood up, Milo was standing right behind me. I jumped. “Shit, you scared me.” I chuckled, then wiped my brow with the back of my hand.

“Sorry, but I think I can help.” He grabbed the pot from me and filled it with water at the sink. “I do know how to cook pasta.” He gave me a sexy smirk, hooking a brow.

My traitorous eyes scanned the soft skin on his exposed abs and tension knotted in my gut. Had I noticed Milo before, but hadn’t thought much of it maybe? Was I thinking about it too much now? Were gay men always noticing sexy things about each other? I worried my lower lip and poured olive oil in the pan over the stove, then turned on the burner. I was so confused. I needed to figure my shit out and I probably shouldn’t do it with my gay best friend.

Milo set the pot of water on the stove, then poured some oil and salt into it. “This is going to be good.” He gave me a quick side-hug, then left to grab the box of pasta.

I shut my eyes a moment. We’d always hugged like that, but now it felt different. Better? Better.

When he came back to my side, he poured the box of pasta into the boiling water of the pot. “I assume we’ll have leftovers.” He glanced at me with those gorgeous eyes of his, the green contrasting with his thick, brown lashes.

I nodded. “Yeah, but you haven’t seen how much I can eat now.” I stirred chicken, tomatoes and artichoke hearts in the pan, then added some Italian spices from his drawer. “I have to keep my muscle on.”

He squeezed my bicep, his tongue darting out to the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I see that. You’ve gotten even bigger since the last time I saw you.” His gaze lifted to meet mine.

His soft, but solid touch flared over my skin. My heart pounded in my ears as I kept my gaze on his. “Milo, uh…” Now was not the time.

He blinked and freed my arm. “Oh, um, sorry.” With a stumbling chuckle, he brushed his hand over the back of his soft curls. “I like a man with muscles.” His darkened gaze flicked to mine, then darted away. “But you know that.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I think I’m nervous about having you here and I’m saying weird shit.”

“Nervous?” I continued pushing the chicken mixture around in the pan and it crackled, the aroma filling the house. I huffed a laugh. “What have you got to be nervous about? It’s just me.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never had you in the band house before.” He checked the pasta, then pulled out a big, glass bowl. “I assume you’ll want something like this to stir everything up?”

“That would work.” What was so different about having me here? I continued to stir the chicken mixture. “I think this is about done.”

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