Page 11 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Eleven

Hank

She actually agreed. She’s coming inside my house. She’s going to spend time with Milo and me, and I think my heart just might explode out of my chest as she steps through the front door.

“Pizza! Pizza!” Milo is calling out as he races into the living room, then around through the entryway back to the kitchen again.

“Shh,” I tell him, picking up my phone. “I have to order it first.” I glance at Phoebe, who’s standing in the entryway like she’s not sure where to go or what to do with herself.

“Sit down, if you like. Water? Soda?” I start putting together a pizza order, then stop. “What do you like on your pizza?”

She looks like a deer in the headlights. “Um...”

Milo sprints into the room again. “Pepperoni! Double pepperoni!”

I don’t miss the fond smile that Phoebe has on her face as she watches him blaze past.

“Double pepperoni is fine with me,” she says gamely. “Can we get those breadsticks, though? I love them.”

I’m surprised—and more than pleased—that she would ask.

“Of course. I’ve even got some rewards points to spend.” We probably order pizza more often than we should, but who’s going to stop me? Milo knows not to talk to Grandma about how much we eat pizza.

Once I’ve got the order placed, I offer to show Phoebe around the house.

Yeah, maybe it’s a little bit so that she can see the guest room.

I don’t know how she’s been enjoying staying on her sister’s couch, but I imagine it gets awkward after a while.

If anything, I’d say Phoebe looks stiffer than the last time I saw her.

Or maybe she’s just really uncomfortable here.

“Will you give her a tour?!” Milo asks. “Dad, can we show her my bedroom?”

Phoebe grins at him. “I’d love to see your room.”

I pat his head. “Of course you can show her.”

Milo darts into the living room first, where Darla is sitting on the arm of the couch, sleeping. He rushes over to her, then gently pats her head.

“This is Darla,” he tells Phoebe with great importance. “She talks to me sometimes.”

Phoebe shoots me a surprised look.

“You can pet her,” Milo allows. Obediently, Phoebe pets Darla on the head, and the cat leans into her touch. Milo ooh s. “She likes you,” he says, nodding firmly. “She just told me.”

I thought I was giving the tour, but I fall backseat to Milo, who drags Phoebe down the hall to show her the bathroom and the garage. Then we’re headed up the stairs, and Milo makes a beeline for his room.

“This is mine!” he shouts proudly.

His room is kind of a mess, and I’m embarrassed for Phoebe to see it. I’ve always believed that my kid’s space is his space, and though I try to encourage him to keep it neat and put his clothes away, they still end up all over the floor.

“Here. This is my ant farm.” He pulls Phoebe by the hand across the room to his desk, where the ant farm is busy, as always. “That one’s Hambone, that’s Cupcake, and that one is, uh...”

He gives up pointing out each of the ants, then hops out of his chair and gestures to his bed, which is covered in spaceships.

“I’m going to be an astronaut,” he declares, patting the comforter. “I’m learning how to hold my breath so I can be good at it.”

Phoebe furrows her brow at this, but eventually smiles and nods. “Very important for astronauts,” she says as Milo heads back out the door.

Unfortunately, he decides to visit my room next. The idea of Phoebe seeing it sends prickles up my back. I’m not messy by any stretch, but it feels... personal. I can imagine her there too easily, on my bed, lying naked on her back.

Milo pushes the door open, and I have no reason to hide it, so I let him. He peeks in and then gestures for Phoebe to follow. She gives me a questioning arch of her eyebrow.

“It’s all right,” I mouth to her.

My room is dark, as I often have to sleep during the day to be ready for my shifts. Milo hops onto my bed and jumps on it. “I sleep here sometimes!”

“Don’t bounce on the bed,” I call, and he quickly stops.

“Just when I’m scared, though,” Milo says, patting his little chest. “Not as much as I used to.”

Standing here with Phoebe so close, the scent of her shampoo in my nose... I wonder what it would be like to be alone with her. To push her down on that bed, surround her with my arms, and actually kiss her like I almost did at the hospital.

Then we’re off to the next room, and I thank my lucky stars for Milo’s short attention span.

“This is for the baby,” Milo says as we reach the last door to the guest room. He bounds inside, spinning around in a circle next to the bed. “We’re going to decorate it, right, Dad?”

I nod and smile. “Of course. We’ll pick out some nice colors and paint the walls.”

“Can we do dinosaurs?”

I rub my chin thoughtfully. “What if the baby doesn’t like dinosaurs?”

Milo gasps in indignation. “ Everyone likes dinosaurs.” He shoots Phoebe a suspicious look. “You like dinosaurs, don’t you?”

She grins. “My favorite is Argentinosaurus. I mean, it was the biggest animal to ever live. Pretty amazing, huh?”

I cock my head. The woman knows her dinosaurs.

Milo squeals. “Totally amazing! But I like velociraptors better. They had feathers, did you know?”

He prattles on about dinosaurs as we leave behind the guest room, but I catch Phoebe glance back over her shoulder at it. Maybe there’s still a chance.

After Milo’s shown Phoebe the upstairs bathroom and the crawl space, the doorbell rings.

“Pizza!” he howls, sprinting for the door.

Once we’ve secured the pizza, I spread it out on the table and we help ourselves. Phoebe eats almost all the breadsticks by herself. When we’re finished, she starts hastily cleaning up our plates.

“I’ll take care of it later, don’t worry,” I say, and she pauses mid-collection.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s despondence or relief.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as Milo bounces to the living room to set up Monster Masher .

“Oh, it’s just...” Phoebe massages her temples. “My sister. Everything in her house has to be just so . Use a plate, put it in the dishwasher right away or get scolded. Don’t leave out your snack. Make sure everything goes back where it belongs the moment you use it.”

Now I understand. “That sounds rough. Constantly walking on eggshells.”

“It’s so tiring! Sometimes you just want to put a plate in the sink and deal with it later, you know?”

I laugh. “I know. I usually wait to do all the chores until Milo’s asleep.”

A small smile crosses Phoebe’s mouth. “He’s cute,” she says in a much quieter voice. “He has so much energy.”

“All the time, all day, every day,” I say with a groan, and she giggles. It’s fucking adorable, her giggle, and oh how I want to make her giggle again.

“He kicked a lot.” Phoebe looks thoughtful. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

“Dad!” Milo calls from the other room. “I’m picking my character!”

“Don’t take Cerberus,” I call back. “You know that’s mine.”

“Aw! But who will Phoebe play?”

I glance at her, not sure if she’s prepared to stay any longer. “You’re welcome to go whenever you need,” I tell her so he can’t hear. “It’s not a problem.”

She rapidly shakes her head. “No, I’m having fun. Let’s go play the game.”

I can’t help a dumb grin as she makes her way into the living room after Milo. Maybe this could go better than I expected.

Phoebe

Milo is beyond “cute.” He’s precious and adorable and quick as a whip for being only five.

He talks like he’s much older. When he wins a game, he jumps to his feet and spins around in a circle, which he calls his “purra-purra victory dance,” whatever that means.

He utterly destroys me at the fighting game, even when I pick the supposedly “strongest” character to play.

I can tell that Hank lets him win when they square off, but puts up a reasonable fight so Milo thinks he’s earned it.

And Hank. He smells so utterly fantastic, just like in the breeding room. He gives his son such soft, sweet smiles when otherwise he’s rather reserved, and it makes my chest squeeze tight.

It’s not long, though, before Milo starts dozing off. While Hank and I are playing a round of Monster Masher together, Milo passes out cold on the couch, leaning against Hank’s arm.

“I guess it’s time for bed,” Hank says quietly, then scoops up the little minotaur in his muscular arms. God, he’s ripped. Strong and built like a truck, and the flexing of his pectorals and biceps under his tank top make me squirm in my seat.

I let him go upstairs alone, and play a few rounds against a computer opponent while I wait for him to come back.

I really should leave now, but I’m not ready to go home and face Sandra, not yet.

This was such a welcome break from the stress of the fire that I want to stay in this protective bubble as long as possible.

That spare room... I can’t help thinking how welcoming it looked, how comfortable it would be to stay somewhere I have my own space, where I’m not constantly being watched and judged.

I could sleep past six, maybe, and use the little desk in the corner to work and be left alone.

And it’s just down the block, so I could easily scoot over to Sandra’s to cook meals and take care of her like I always do.

I can’t believe I’m thinking like this. Hank is a complete unknown to me.

It would make no sense to move in with him.

I’ve only just met Milo. And even if I did live here, could I really expect nothing untoward to happen?

Hank and I have a history. He’s the father of the baby I’m carrying.

My whole body sizzles at the idea of having something more with him, and that in itself frightens me.

It all sounds too reasonable, and I can’t fall in love with Hank Pittsfield. Aside from my responsibilities to Sandra, what would we tell Milo? How could I possibly admit to that little boy who I really am?

I’m not his mother. I may have carried him and given birth to him, but he’s not mine. That opens a whole other can of worms.