Page 14 of Tempted By the Safety

“I’ve noticed the face,” Milo says. “Haven’t gotten to the teddy bear yet.”

Kane tips his head back with a chuckle and his robe shifts, the silk parting another inch at the collar. That’s when I clock where Milo’s eyes have gone. Not subtle about it either, a slow drag down Kane’s chest, and something hot and ugly coils in my gut and stays there.

I guess this confirms the assumption Kirsten hinted at before. Not that I care. It’s not my business. Milo’s allowed to look at whoever he wants. Kane’s spoken for six ways from Sunday anyway, so it’s not even a real threat.

Wait. A threat?

“Anyway.” Kane rolls his shoulders back. “Can’t wait to see how the jockstrap shots turned out. Rowan’s gonna lose his whole mind.” His grin widens. “I sent him a teaser text an hour ago just to torture him a little.”

Milo’s head snaps up. “Jockstrap?”

“Yeah.” Kane looks between us. “Wait. How does your PA not know that?”

“I, uh, forgot to mention it,” I say.

Milo scans the studio then, spotting the rolling rack near the far wall and the lighting rig angled low, a setup built to catch skin. The alarm moves through him before he wrestles it back down into mild confusion.

“Huh,” he says. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

Kane’s taking it in, saving it up for the group chat, I suspect.

“Anyway, I gotta go. Nice meeting you, Milo,” he says, backing toward the hallway. “Keep him loose.” He points two fingers at me on his way past, the universal Kane gesture forwe’ll be discussing it later, and then he’s gone around the corner.

A woman with a headset and a clipboard materializes almost the second he’s out of sight, glancing between me and Milo. “Mr. Rhodes? We’ve got your dressing room set up down the hall, second door. You’re up in ten.”

“Thanks,” I say.

She nods and peels off toward whatever’s next on her list, and it’s just me and Milo again.

“I don’t need you for this part,” I say. “Go grab something from the coffee station. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Milo looks at me then, and I expect him to crack another joke, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah. Okay.” He’s already turning, shoulders more relaxed than they were thirty seconds ago, like he’s relieved to have somewhere else to be.

I watch him go, picking up his pace toward the front of the studio, and I don’t ask myself why I told him to tag along today in the first place.

6

Milo

The coffee station is tucked into an alcove near the loading doors, and I make a beeline for it, because if I have to spend one more second thinking about Spencer in a jockstrap, I am going to spontaneously combust and take the whole warehouse with me.

Not my business.

Not my business.

I chant it to myself the whole walk over. It doesn’t take.

Two guys are already camped out by the carafes, both in the same kind of silk robe Kane had on, cinched loose at the waist. They both look like they got assembled in a lab specifically to ruin my ability to focus. One’s got dark brown hair, long on top, falling forward when he tips his head, hazel eyes, a nose with a little character to it, and full lips. The other one’s taller, rangy, dark blond hair pushed back, sharp cheekbones.

Neither of them notices me, so I pour my coffee slowly, milking the process, telling myself that eavesdropping on men in silk robes counts as professional development.

“I’m just saying,” the blond one says, leaning in until his shoulder brushes the other guy’s, “I can’t wait to see you in those red briefs.”

“Travis,” the brown-haired one says, glancing sideways. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why? It’s a compliment, Griffin.” Travis grabs a handful of the single-serve creamers, peels a few open, and pours them in, like a man who’s never once in his life worried about calories. “What’s wrong with me wanting to see my buddy in good-quality apparel?”