Bite Me Page 3

  “I know.”

  “Wait a minute, you know? Did my sister tell you? Who have you been talking to?”

  Once again, Milo puts up his hands. “You put your birthday on Facebook as public.”

  I whip out my phone. “Not anymore,” I say through a mouthful of donut, tapping the app and heading over to my personal profile settings.

  “I don’t mean to be a creep. I’m sorry. I know you think I’m too old for you, but hear me out. Age is just a number. I’m still the same person I was in my 20s and 30s, and I don’t have any other agenda. I just like you, and I want to be around you.”

  I cover my mouth, trying not to burst into laughter because he doesn’t even realize.

  “You’re ruining my determination to marry someone my own age. My oldest sister married someone more than twice her age. My second-oldest sister married my dad’s best friend.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. I know. Diana, the middle child, decided to rebel and marry a guy only ten years older, who also happened to be her boss. Cherise is deliberately going against the grain so hard in the Williams clan that she’s in a two-year relationship with a guy her age who used to be a high school friend.”

  He smiles. “That sounds nice for her.”

  “It’s not. He’s a total wet blanket.”

  “Oh.”

  “So you’ll understand if I’m overwhelmed by the fact that a man twice my age is pursuing a date with me.”

  “So I guess we don’t have to worry about your family not being accepting of me because of my age.”

  I rear back. “What did you say?”

  “You’re the one who brought up marriage, friend.”

  I stare back at him, my mouth hanging open.

  He’s right. I did bring up marriage. Why did I do that?

  “You’re right,” I say. “I should go. This is getting intense.”

  “Wait, Cecily. I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”

  I stand and hoist my backpack and grab my coffee. And another donut. “I have to get to my exam anyway.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he says.

  I squint at him as he rises to stand. My heart thuds. The man really is a big, silly bear, isn’t he? Cute, a little stalkery, and sweet. “You’re going to follow me either way, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Despite not being sure about going on a date with this Sasquatch—this adorable, seemingly friendly Sasquatch who is inexplicably attracted to my witchy ass—or about trying his food again, I do appreciate an escort to the classroom building.

  “This is not the greatest neighborhood,” he remarks as we walk.

  I look around at the handful of buildings in this semi-industrial corner of the city. “It’s not that bad. This area used to be a bedroom community until some of the plants closed. The school has a decent communications program. I chose it after watching so many family and friends struggle with a mountain of student debt, even with academic scholarships. I didn’t want to do that to myself.”

  “I can’t wait to hear more about your family over dinner.”

  “If I agree to go to dinner with you, will you stop giving me heart attacks at the newspaper office and at the gas station?” I ask, but I can’t hide the smile in my voice.

  Milo laughs his loud laugh, holding the door open to the classroom building. “Maybe.”

  “You can go now,” I say, staring at him as several people brush past me.

  “No,” he says. “I really can’t.”

  That statement turns out to be true. When I finish my second to last exam, he’s standing outside, in the hallway, waiting for me.

  “You’re drawing attention to yourself, you know. Pretty soon, people are going to be asking for your autograph.”

  And then Milo says something that totally throws me off guard.

  “They’re staring because they’re jealous that this weird old man is allowed to walk next to a goddess.”

  Fine, I think. If he wants to play bodyguard, he can have at it.

  He can play pretend at being Kevin Costner, but I am not his Whitney Houston. No way.

  Even so, I still can’t help the small smile that creeps across my face as my six-foot-four shadow follows me to the library.

  Chapter Eight

  Milo

  Why am I here, lurking around a college campus instead of boarding a plane to Mexico right now?

  Because I can’t get Cecily out of my head.

  I need to see her again.

  So, I’m here, reading a book on the bench outside of the library in the cold, waiting to escort Cecily wherever she goes next.

  “Mr. St. Germaine! What are you doing here?”

  I turn and see it’s Cherise, Cecily’s sister.

  “Oh hi! Long story short? I’ve been…delayed.”

  “Oh really? I’m sorry.”

  I smile at her. “I’m not.”

  She looks confused but amused. “Why?”

  There’s no point in hiding it. I already look like a total lunatic to Cecily, might as well let the family in on what’s happening. “Because I just really like your sister.”

  Cherise stares at me and blinks. After several awkward seconds, she smiles. “And another one bites the dust.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  She wags her head. “Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you. I wonder if you might consider giving a talk to the culinary school?”

  “Cecily told me you graduated already.”

  Cherise beams up at me. “Cecily talked about me? To you?”

  Cherise has a disarming, open-hearted nature about her. It makes me wonder what happened to make Cecily so closed off and mysterious. “Tell you what. I’ll do one better than that,” I say, then tell Cherise an idea I have.

  It’s a low-down dirty trick to try to win over Cecily’s heart. But I’m a low-down dirty dog according to the tabloids, so why not own it?

  Chapter Nine

  Cecily

  What is he doing here? Again? Or still?

  I double back from the front exit of the library, choosing instead a seldom-walked path from the rear exit to the communications building, which passes through a grove of trees along the undeveloped fringe of the campus.

  It’s not that I don’t want to see Milo. I admit that I’m warming up to him. But that’s the problem. He’s distracting, and I have to focus on my final exam. Also, I don’t want him following me to my last meeting with my staff before winter break. I can’t be thinking about nibbling that belly, or about those sinewy arms pinning me down, if I’m trying to answer essay questions about Edward R. Morrow.

  I don’t know why more people don’t walk here. It’s wild and somewhat untouched by landscapers. Beautiful, actually.

  I’m about halfway to the communications building when I hear footsteps behind me. I smirk and keep walking, assuming it’s my personal bodyguard Milo. When I keep going and don’t hear him call out, I turn to look.

  Just at the moment that I do, I’m taken aback by what I see.

  Milo isn’t following me. It’s Chet from the improv troop, walking toward me with a blank look on his face. I step off the sidewalk to let him pass, figuring he’s probably on his way somewhere. But he also steps away from the path and doesn’t stop until he’s in my face.

  “I’m curious. Do you think you’re special?”

  He’s supposedly a funny guy, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to make a joke.

  I stare him down with my fiercest look, even though inside, I’m a little apprehensive that the two of us are alone on this path at the ass-end of campus. The sky is darkening quickly now at five p.m. “My daddy always says so,” I answer.

  He doesn’t seem interested in what my daddy says. “You think you know everything because your sister is an unfunny comedian who slept her way onto TV? You think you can say whatever you want and get away with it because you have a bodyguard now? Must be nice to have that kind of money.”

  I open my mo
uth to speak, but I don’t know which part of what he said I want to address first. I’m not even going to respond that repulsive question about Chloe. “I…wait…what? No, that guy is not a bodyguard. Well, maybe he is but not literally. Wait a minute…do you really not know who he is?” Suddenly I hear all of my sisters’ voices teasing me in my head. “What happened to the badass baby of the family who takes no shit?!” I imagine them saying if they watched this scene play out, wondering why I’m explaining anything to this idiot.

  I plant my feet and point up in Chet’s face. “No. I don’t owe you an explanation for anything. And by the way, you’d better develop a thicker skin if you want to do comedy. Just my two cents. So, why don’t you just pop a Xanax or go make a complaint to the department chair.”

  “You sure got a big mouth for someone with zero talent.”

  “You sure have zero manners. Who fuckin’ raised you?” I spit back. I spin around to head up the path to continue on my way, but Chet quickly steps around and blocks me. I scoff and turn, headed back toward the library. I’ll be late for a staff meeting, but at least I can try to shake this guy off me when we’re around other people. This area is feeling a little too isolated at the moment.

  When he puts his hand on my arm to swing me back around to face him, I blurt, “What the fuck are you doing? Get your hand off me!”

  I do not have time for bullshit.

  That’s when I feel Chet’s thumb stroke up my upper arm over the sleeve of my sweatshirt, and I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Maybe I’ll remember my manners after you do me a favor.”

  My gaze goes from his hand up to his flashing eyes. “Is this supposed to be a joke? Maybe if I speak in improv, you’ll get it. Here’s my location suggestion: Go to hell. Occupation? Eat shit. Wait, there’s usually a third suggestion…what is it again?”

  Chet’s grip tightens on my arm, and now I think I’ve pushed him a little too far.

  “Girlie,” he starts to growl, his teeth gritted. “You don’t get it—”

  My mind scrambles. I don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this. Suddenly, Chet so abruptly jerks his hand away in a blur of gray, that I stumble and almost fall.

  I steady myself and look over to see that the flash of gray is Milo, pinning Chet up against a tree.

  Holy shit.

  “Milo! What are you doing back here?”

  “Looking for you,” Milo answers, his hands still gripping the front of Chet’s jacket. “You doubled back when you saw me, so I walked around the building and found this little shit with his hands on you. Did he hurt you?”

  I would love nothing more than to watch Milo pummel the shit out of Chet right now. But he didn’t actually physically hurt me. “No, just acted like a fool.”

  “Fat lip or busted nose? Your choice, Cecily.”

  “None of the above. But I will be reporting him for assault to the campus police, to administration, and to the entire student body when I write my next editorial.”

  Milo grudgingly lets Chet go, and my assailant mutters some weak trash talk and slinks away.

  “Let’s go. Now,” Milo says.

  “I can’t. I have a final exam tonight and a staff meeting in five minutes.”

  Milo shrugs. “Cancel the staff meeting and let me feed you. You need sustenance for your exam.”

  I don’t know whether it’s because I’m hungry and grateful, or still in shock that he subdued a would-be attacker, or if I genuinely just want to kiss the guy. But none of that seems to matter when I fist the front of Milo’s sweater, roll up on my toes, and press our lips together.

  There’s nothing on the staff meeting agenda that can’t be addressed over email.

  When our faces come apart, Milo looks as surprised at me as I feel.

  His pleased expression quickly grows heated, and he bends down again to kiss me back. His kiss is sweet as he brushes his lips over mine once, twice, then captures my bottom lip between both of his. I feel his arms slide around my back, tugging me close into his solid frame, and my backpack slides off my shoulder and hits the ground. I’m suddenly feeling light as air, and I fear the butterflies might make me fly away.

  “Wow,” I say, breathless when we pull apart with a loud smacking noise. “You might half-ass desserts but not kissing.”

  “Let’s go,” he growls, stalking over to pick up my things that have fallen to the ground.

  “I don’t have anything to wear to your fancy restaurant. That dress I wore the other night is the only nice thing I own.”

  Milo threads his fingers through mine and insists on carrying my bag.

  “You won’t have to worry about what to wear.”

  I like having him walk next to me instead of behind me.

  Once we arrive at Urban Fruit, Milo has to unlock the door, and I recall now that he’s closed on Mondays.

  “Wait. There’s no staff here today.”

  Milo looks at me with a mischievous grin and gestures me inside into the darkened dining room. “Is this the part where you stab me? Because I carry pepper spray, and I kick like a mule. I was about to castrate Chet when you showed up.”

  He says nothing, but when I step inside, there is a booth in the corner laid out with a fine linen tablecloth, water goblets, and candles.

  “Oh my god. You really did read my article.” He went to a lot of trouble for this, not knowing for sure if I would agree to dinner.

  He gets five stars for a giant set of balls.

  Milo leads me past the dining room into the kitchen, where we move through a labyrinth of workstations. He gestures to a barstool near an enormous commercial gas stove that would make my sister Cherise salivate. Wordlessly he begins to perform his magic, and I begin to understand.

  Before I’d actually met him, I’d wanted to nibble on his belly. Right now, watching him prepare food while my belly rumbles? I sort of want him to hold me down and nibble on me. After I eat.

  Get control of yourself, Cecily. Just because he can win you over with food doesn’t mean he’s not a playboy.

  “You need to know something. I appreciate you, Milo. But whatever it is that you’re after? It’s not going to happen. I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to dating.”

  “What sort of woman do you think I’m used to dating?” He sautées, stirs and flips. Why in the world he has multiple pots and pans going on the flame for two dinners, I have no idea.

  “Princesses. People who hang out on yachts. People who are…experienced?”

  My voice goes up in a question at the end because I’m hoping he’ll get what I’m saying and not make me say it.

  He turns to me with a plate of prime rib, bright green vegetables, and fried potatoes, then produces a fork. He then proceeds to feed me with it himself. “You’re hungry. Eat first. Then we talk.”

  Chapter Ten

  Milo

  Our bellies full of prime rib, Cecily and I have moved from the kitchen to the table I’ve laid out in the dining room, especially for one purpose.

  Dessert.

  While we wait for the surprise, I thread my fingers through hers on the table. “I don’t date princesses, just so you know. And that wasn’t my yacht. I was filming in the Mediterranean, and some influencers invited me to a party on their boat. I can’t even believe anyone cares about some princess sunbathing nude.”

  Cecily seems to accept my explanation. I desperately want her to know that’s not the kind of person I am.

  “Still,” she says. “I have way less experience with dating than you do.”

  “It’s true that I’ve gone on dates with lots of women. But I don’t sleep around, Cecily. I haven’t had a serious relationship in years. In the meantime, I get invited to many, many events because of my job. I have to go to award ceremonies, galas, all kinds of things, and I don’t like to go alone. I have lots of friends, and they get to be my plus-ones. Tabloids would have you believe I’m a heartbreaker but ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you it’s pa
tently false. If I ever broke someone’s heart or mistreated someone, it wasn’t intentional. I’m just a regular dude from Pennsylvania. I’m still that guy.”

  Cecily studies me for a long minute. “I guess I should know better than to trust everything I hear about you.”

  I wait to speak because she looks as if she might have something else to say.

  “Still, I’m not sure,” she says.

  “Not sure you like me? Not sure I’m your type?”

  She sighs and says, “I’m not sure I want to start a fling with someone who could be leaving town at a moment’s notice.”

  I lean toward her and say, “What makes you think I’m interested in a fling? I’m not. I don’t do that.”

  “But you’re 40, and you never married? Never had kids?”

  I squeeze her hand, hoping she’ll understand. “My parents divorced when I was a pre-teen, and it really hurt. It was an ugly custody battle. I swore I would never do that to a kid or to the mother of my would-be kids. I wanted to be absolutely sure. So, in the meantime, I’ve been enjoying life, and I have no regrets. And that is what makes everyone assume I have a wild personal life full of one-night stands when that’s not the case. Does that make sense?”

  She nods but then furrows her brow. “If you’re not prone to flings, but you’ve been following me around like a puppy the last two days, it stands to reason that I would assume you want something brief.”

  I shake my head. “You’re funny, and intelligent, and interesting, and sexy as hell.

  “Maybe it’s crazy because we’ve only known each other a couple of days. But I have a long history of taking chances on a whim and going with my gut. My gut is always right. I’m getting one of those signals right now. And it’s telling me to stop, settle down, and think about what I really want. What I really want is more time with you, Cecily. I know we barely know each other, but I feel it. You pulled me in without even trying.”

  Chapter Eleven