18

Milo

"Why am I so nervous?" I ask myself, staring into the full-length mirror.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" I spin around to see Boden chasing after Jonah, who's traipsed into my room. He scoops my son up in his arms. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine."

If having two kids under six and a nanny has taught me anything, it's that the only truly alone time I get is when I lock the bathroom door. Other than that, it's fair game.

"You look fine, by the way," Boden says, bouncing Jonah on his hip. "That's a nice shirt. Really brings out your eyes or something. Sorry. I don't really know how to compliment another guy on his appearance."

"Thanks." I manage a small smile and turn back to the mirror. I've gone with a red-and-black plaid button down, a pair of my favorite jeans, and dark-brown Chukka boots. Stylish, comfortable, and hopefully doesn't look like I'm trying too hard or spent way too much time overthinking my choice of outfit. I'm still undecided whether to take a summer jacket or not.

Why am I so on edge?

Oh, that's right. Because I'm in love with Beth, and the next few hours are a vital litmus test to see whether or not I have a chance at turning our us-ship into an actual relationship with the first and only woman who's ever set my soul on fire the way she does. No biggie.

"It's stupid to be this nervous," I mutter.

"Not if you like her, and it's pretty obvious you do."

"It is?"

Boden nods in the mirror. "I received an email from the International Space Station earlier today. They can see your attraction to Beth from up there."

"Right."

"For what it's worth, she's into you, too."

"Has that been confirmed by the ISS?"

He grins. "Yep. And by me, too. I've seen the way she looks at you. Just relax and have a good time. Don't get all first-datey about it. You've got nothing to worry about."

Oh, but I do.

Even though Beth and I have known each for almost a year, a first date feels different.

It is different.

I want it to be special and memorable. Plus, she's read more than her fair share of romance novels, so I have a lot to live up to. "You don't think going to the fair is pathetic?"

"Not at all. It's…cutesy."

"Hmm."

I finish tying my hair into a bun.

Cutesy.

Is that what I'm going for?

Well, I don't have any other ideas, and it's too late to change my mind now, so I cross my fingers and pray that Beth likes it.

"This is so…" Beth glances around the fair.

String lights are draped between trees and along stalls, sounds of laughter and cheerful music from a live band playing near the main stage mingle in the air, and game booths buzz with activity.

"Cutesy?" I offer.

"Yeah. Cutesy. Perfect word, Mr. Payne."

"Not as perfect as how you look tonight," I say, because man, Beth is even more stunning than usual.

And it's not just because of the stylish outfit she's wearing—a white linen blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark denim jeans, paired with black ankle boots, a simple silver necklace and delicate stud earrings.

Or the little extra makeup she's got on—like the bright red lipstick that makes her soft lips look even more inviting.

Or the spicy scent of her perfume wafting in the air—a captivating mix of cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla.

No.

It's more than that.

There's something about her—a confidence she's exuding—that is really doing it for me.

Meanwhile, I'm hoping I've put on enough deodorant to mask my underarm sweat so she can't see how much I'm freaking out.

I want tonight to go well, and I really want her to enjoy herself and have a good time.

And who knows? Maybe it could be the start of something more.

She knows I'm retiring and staying in Comfort Bay.

She knows I like her.

We've taken the first very tentative step toward a relationship.

Everything seems to be falling into place…I just wish the stars would hurry up and align already. All this waiting and anticipation is making my stomach churn. If all love is this stressful, I have no idea why Beth enjoys reading romance novels so much.

We walk past a ring toss. "Want me to win you something?"

She smiles. "Sure. Just don't get overly competitive about it."

I scoff. "As if." We walk over to the ring toss, and I tip my head toward the wall lined with prizes. "What would you like?"

She scans the options. "The stuffed pink bear holding a book," she says, pointing her finger toward the bear.

"Coming right up." I hand the attendant a twenty and smirk cockily at Beth. "This is going to be a piece of cake."

Ten minutes—and one hundred forty dollars—later, Beth's the one smirking.

"You don't have to keep going," she says softly so that no one can hear.

"No. I think I've figured it out. The perfect wrist flick to directional precision ratio. I'm so close I can feel it."

"If you say so."

Sweat is pouring down my back as I focus all my concentration on tossing the five rings over the targets.

I will win her that bear if it's the last thing I do.

Trying not to let my frustration show, I line up for my gazillionth attempt.

With a flick of my wrist, I toss the first ring. It lands securely around the neck of the first bottle with a satisfying clink.

I repeat it again and get the second bottle.

Then the third.

I'm not getting too excited just yet. I've been here several times before.

I take a breath and toss the ring again. It sails through the air and…makes it.

Yes!

I'm on a roll. Just one more to go.

I glance over at Beth and am treated to one of her beautiful smiles. It fires me up, and I know—I just know—I'm going to land this one for her.

I throw the ring.

It glides smoothly, hovering momentarily before dropping down and encircling the bottle in a perfect fit.

"Yay!" She claps then throws her arms around me.

The attendant, a spotty-faced teenager, hands me the stuffed pink bear with a look that clearly screams weirdo—can't argue with that—but I don't care.

The look of happiness on Beth's face is worth it.

We finally shuffle off, Beth cradling her new pink reading bear into her chest, me three pounds lighter from sweating so much. I swear that thing was rigged.

"I love it. Thank you," she says, lifting on her toes to kiss me on the cheek as we walk away from the ring toss from hell.

"You loved seeing me suffer," I say, tugging her into my side.

"I did not." She giggles, and the sweet sound infiltrates into my bones. "That was just an added bonus."

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

"Sure. I could eat."

We make our way over to the food stands.

But something's amiss.

"This doesn't seem right," I say, on the lookout for corn dogs, funnel cake, and cotton candy but only seeing a variety of international cuisines. Don't get me wrong, they all smell delicious, but I've got a hankering for some good old-fashioned fair treats. "Where are the corn dogs?"

"Blame Doyle," Beth says.

"The guy who runs the grocery store?"

"That's him. He's also town selectman, so he oversees all this stuff. And just so you know, he can be a massive pain in the you-know-what, so either stay on his good side or try to slip under his radar."

"And what does Doyle have to do with me not seeing any corn dogs?"

"He went to an inclusivity workshop recently and decided to incorporate international cuisine only."

"So, what? No American cuisine, then?"

Beth grins. "I think that may be the first time corn dogs have ever been referred to as cuisine, but yeah, sorry, you're out of luck."

"I'm boycotting that man's store," I grumble. "Come on. Let's see what they do have."

Ten minutes later, we're sitting at a table with an assortment of dishes laid out in front of us—gyros from Greece, a sliced-up Banh Mi sandwich from Vietnam, Spanish Paella, and some Japanese octopus balls.

"So, how am I doing?" I ask around a mouthful of seasoned lamb and pita bread.

She finishes chewing her Paella. "Doing?"

"Yeah. First-date wise."

"You want me to rate your first-date performance?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"You're basically the queen of romance, so I want to see if I need to up my game."

She snorts. "Queen of romance, hardly." Her eyes widen. "Annnd I just snorted."

"You snorted adorably. Romantically."

"That's not a thing. And there's no need for you to up your game, mister. You're doing great." She lifts her one hundred sixty dollar pink bear as evidence. "Just…just keep being you. And let's steer clear of all the hokey first-date topics."

"Like, So tell me, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Exactly." She smiles. "Or asking about birthdays and star signs."

"Or going through favorite movies, or shows, or music."

"Yes! And not being honest with any of your answers for fear of being judged, so you only say things you think the other person will think are cool."

I clear my throat. "You speaking from experience, by any chance?"

"Actually, yeah." She blushes a little. "Younger Beth was a lot more worried about what other people thought of her."

"I like this Beth better."

"You do?"

"For sure." I hesitate. "Tell me something embarrassing."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, if I scored highly due to not asking typical first-date questions, I'm curious to see what score I get for asking untypical first-date questions."

"You mean atypical."

"I'm pretty sure I'm rig—you know what, nevermind. I'll let you have the win."

"Nuh-uh. I'm taking the win because I'm right."

"Are we ever going to stop teasing each other?"

She grins. "I hope not."

"I hope not, too."

"Okay. Let's see. You want an embarrassing story, huh?"

"I do."

She takes a moment to think of something. "Okay. I have something. It happened recently."

"Go for it."

"Okay, so Mr. Forrester comes into the book shop. Do you know him?"

"No. I don't think I do."

"He's so lovely. When you think of a sweet grandpa, he's the guy who pops into your head."

I smile. "Got it."

"Anyway, he asked for a mystery book recommendation. That's not my genre, but I remembered Courtland raving about a mystery he'd just read, so I suggested that to him. Anyway, Mr. Forrester returns the next day, laughing, and tells me the book I'd recommended was actually a steamy romance novel. I'd gotten the two titles, The Lieutenant's Secret and The Lieutenant's Promise mixed up."

I chuckle. "Bet he didn't see that plot twist coming."

Beth giggles. "I realize it's not the worst thing in the world, but I died. I only hoped he stopped reading by page five because that's when the Lieutenant's, uh, secret, makes its first appearance."

My chuckle turns into a laugh. "That's too funny."

"Okay. It's my turn to ask you a non-first-date question. Hmm." She taps her chin. "Ooh, I know. Is Milo Payne, the gruffest and grumpiest goalie in the NHL afraid of anything?"

I study her for a moment. It's an interesting question to ask. Is she asking because she really wants to know, or is it a test to see if I'm able to admit to my fears?

"I'm good with a lot of things. Snakes, spiders, toddler poop." She giggles. "The only thing I'm afraid of is heights."

"Oh. Okay. Where does that come from?"

"It doesn't affect my day-to-day life, so I haven't given it that much thought. Most people have something they don't like, and height is my thing."

"Are you okay with flying?"

"I am. I even prefer the window seat. It's only when I'm outside, like if I were on a rooftop."

"Ohhh."

"What?"

"So that's why you took a giant step back at the lookout."

That was such a tiny detail, and yet she noticed, she remembers. I nod. "It is."

"I meant to ask you about it, but we were talking about your retirement plans, so I got sidetracked."

I shrug. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. I stepped back from the edge, and I was fine."

"So no Ferris wheel then?"

I wince. "I mean, if you really wanted to I suppose I cou?—"

"Milo, I'm kidding. I've watched way too many amusement park disaster videos to ever go on one myself."

I huff out a relieved sigh. "Good. Okay. My turn. So this is a first-date question, but given you are who you are, I need to know."

"Should I be worried?"

I smile. "Not at all. What's your favorite book?"

"Perfectly Imperfect," she replies without hesitation. "And I'm not just saying that because it's my sister's debut novel. It's a legitimate bestseller, having sold millions of copies worldwide. She's in talks with a few streamers who want to acquire the rights for it, and it's just really good."

I love seeing her get so passionate. "What's it about?"

"It's a romance, naturally. A second chance which usually I'm not a fan of, but the way she was able to make me fall in love with both characters, I was drawn in from the first sentence."

"Is one of those characters a hunky hockey player by any chance?" I tease.

She laughs. "Funnily enough, no. They're both 'normal people'—"

"Am I ignoring your use of quotation marks?"

"You are if you know what's good for you," she quips with a grin.

"Fair enough. Continue."

"It's just so relatable. Two people who aren't perfect. In fact, they've both made a huge mess of their lives, but when they come together, they bring out the best in one another. It's nothing revelatory, but it was done really well. Oh, and Maverick Pendleton."

"Who's that?"

"He's the hero, and in my humble opinion, the ultimate book boyfriend."

"What on earth is a book boyfriend?"

She giggles before explaining, "It's the male character in a romance who is so wonderful that readers fall in love with him and imagine him as their book version boyfriend."

"I see." My eyebrows pinch together, and my voice gets a little gruffer. "And what makes Maverick Pickleton so great?"

"It's Pendleton, and I don't know…" She smiles bashfully, like maybe this isn't something she's comfortable talking about. I'm about to drop it and move on to another topic when she says, "It's how he made the heroine, Violet, feel. She'd been treated badly by guys before and had put up so many walls. He had the patience of a saint and treated her with nothing but kindness and respect, even when she pushed him away. It was beautiful."

Hmm. Why does the situation she's describing feel oddly familiar?

She clutches her chest and sighs wistfully. "And then the grand gesture."

"What's a grand gesture?"

"Wow. You really don't know the romance genre at all, do you?"

"I know Romeo and Juliet. Does that count?"

She emits a little huff and shakes her head. "That definitely does not count. A grand gesture is the pivotal moment in the story when a character expresses their deep love, regret, or desire to get back together in some big way."

"Okay, so what did this Plonkinton dude do that was so special?"

"You sure you want me to tell you? I don't want to spoil it for you."

"I'll survive."

"It's hard to explain without having read the book because it's not just what he did, but how he did it. He risked everything to give her something really special she'd lost as a little girl."

"It sounds like a good read."

She nods. "It's the best. Really. I know you don't read romance, but if you ever get the urge to try one, start there."

I smile. "Noted."

We must have spent longer than I realized talking, because by the time we finish our meal, the fireworks are about to start.

"Want to find a nice spot to watch?" I ask.

"Sure." She slips her hand into mine, and a rush of warmth fills my chest. I lead us away from the midway and the stands, hoping to find a less crowded area.

"This okay?" I ask as we approach a couple of empty lawn chairs in the picnic area. A few other people have had the same idea I have, but it's way less busy and the vibe is super chill.

"It's great," she says, plonking herself down.

Before sitting down, I shrug off my coat, grateful I decided to bring it, and drape it over her shoulders.

She looks up at me and smiles. "Thank you. You get bonus first-date points for that."

"I wasn't doing it to score points…but I'll take them."

I smile, she giggles, and as the fireworks begin and we look up to watch them, I've never felt this happy, this comfortable, this right with a woman before.

I'm convinced Beth is the one for me, but does she feel the same way, too?

I think so.

I hope so.

But I don't know so.

And it wouldn't be just me she's getting. The Milo Payne boyfriend collectible comes as a package with two bite-sized munchkins.

She knows that. She said she's fine with that.

But what if she's fine with it now, but her feelings change down the road? What then? I don't want to put any unrealistic expectations on us, but at the same time, I have to protect my kids. She's a natural with Josie and Jonah, and they're always asking when we're coming back to Comfort Bay to see Beth. I don't want them to get too attached only to lose her if things between us don't work out. They've both been through enough in their young lives.

Dude, chill. Get out of your own head and enjoy the moment.

I pretend to yawn, using it as an excuse to place my arm around her shoulder.

"Smooth," she says, not taking her eyes off the fireworks. She scoots in a little closer and leans against me.

The fireworks in the sky? Yeah, they've got nothing on what's happening inside my chest.

Once the display is over, we head back home, strolling through the streets hand in hand.

"When do I get my end-of-date score?" I ask as we turn onto our street.

"When I get my end-of-date kiss," she replies.

"That a challenge, is it?"

One of her eyebrows shoots up. "Maybe."

I chuckle. "In that case, challenge accepted."

We reach her house, and she turns to me. "Before we restart our usual tit for tat, I just want to say something. Something serious."

"Will I need protective gear?"

A small grin. "No. I…" She looks away, then up at the sky, before returning her eyes to meet mine. "I've had a really good night, Milo. Hands down, this has been the best date I've ever been on. You make me feel…special. And safe. And I'm not used to either of those things."

"You are special, Beth." I gently graze her cheek. "And safe with me. Always. I won't ever intentionally do anything to hurt you or betray you. I'll never lie to you. And I'll take all the ribbing you direct at me. I swear."

"Stop being so charming."

"Can't help it." I grin, lifting my chin. "I've sought medical advice, but unfortunately, it looks like I'll have to live with this condition permanently."

She swats my chest, and I take the opportunity to latch onto her wrist. I raise her hand to my lips and softly kiss her knuckles one at a time.

I don't want Beth to have to settle for having some fictional book boyfriend, I want her to have the real thing. And in my one humble opinion, I believe I'm the best man for the job.

I'll always treat her right and respect her.

She can lead the way, and I'll follow.

I'm going to give her every reason to trust me, and maybe one day, when I tell her how beautiful she is, she'll believe me without any doubt or hesitation.

Unable to help myself, I ask, "So, does this mean you like me more than that Maverick Pebblerock or whatever his name is, guy?"

A soft smile lifts the corners of her mouth. "That depends."

"On?"

"On how you finish this date, mister. I'm still waiting for that kiss."

As soon as she's done talking, I lean down, curl my fingers around her neck, and put all the feelings I have for her into what I'm hoping will be the most unforgettable, magical end-of-first-date kiss she's ever had. Judging by the soft whimpers spilling out of her mouth, I'd say I'm in with a shot.

"So," I rasp, my lips hovering over hers. "How'd I do?"

"Maverick who?"

I grin. "'Atta girl."