My Favorite Souvenir(23)

Milo and I checked into our respective rooms and vowed to meet up in an hour after we’d showered and gotten dressed. He’d once again insisted on paying for the hotel rooms, but I told him he’d better let me cover the rooms in the next city, or at least the cost of my own room. As a high school music teacher, he likely didn’t have an endless stream of funds. He wasn’t even currently working.

As I let the warm water pour down on me in the shower, I couldn’t help thinking about our time in Steamboat, and his confession about Zoe and her tragic accident. It broke my heart to think about it, and it explained so much. He’d lost his partner and soulmate. That was far worse than what I’d been through. It certainly put everything with Brady into perspective. I could move on or choose to forgive Brady. I had choices. But Milo had been forced to part with his love. He’d had no choice in the matter, and it was terribly sad. I wiped my tears and exited the shower.

Selecting one of the sexiest dresses I’d brought with me, I got myself all dolled up for our mystery party. Were we about to crash a wedding? A corporate party? A bar mitzvah? Who knew? Either way, the Hookers were ready to turn on the charm.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress I’d chosen was black sequined, strapless, and short. I wore the same sexy, strappy heels I’d worn out to karaoke and decided to leave my hair down.

Once dressed, I felt antsy, so I went to knock on Milo’s door.

When he opened, I exhaled upon the sight of his shirtless body. Again. This always seemed to happen. I almost had to wonder if the prick was doing it to me on purpose, waiting to put his shirt on until I had a chance to ogle him. How long does it take a guy to get dressed? He always seemed to be running “late,” and was therefore half-naked when I knocked.

He gave me a onceover. “You look even more amazing now than you did in the dress back in Steamboat. This one really takes the cake, Maddie. Damn.”

“Why, thank you. I have it on good authority that I’m attending a party tonight, so I wanted to look my very best.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He sighed. “I, on the other hand, am wearing the same shirt from Steamboat, because unfortunately, I don’t have another suitable one.”

“Well, we’re going shopping tomorrow. We can buy you another dress shirt.”

“You’re really angling to shop, aren’t you?”

“Yup. Funky boots, remember? And maybe a nice wool blanket with a southwestern pattern.”

I noticed his shirt hanging in the closet. “Your shirt’s all wrinkled.”

“I know. I was gonna iron it.”

Grabbing the shirt and unfolding the ironing board, I said. “I got it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.”

I got to work pressing. The smell of his cologne on the shirt emanated through the steam. I definitely didn’t mind ironing a shirt that smelled like him.

When I’d managed to get all of the wrinkles out, I held it open behind him as he slipped his arms inside. I then faced him and slowly buttoned it from bottom to top as Milo watched every movement of my hands. It was unintentionally sensual, and I could feel the energy of his stare until I buttoned the very last one.

Our eyes lingered until he said, “We’d better go. We’ll be late for the...”

I finished his sentence. “Whatever it is.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Promise me one thing, Maddie.”

“What?”

“Whatever we’re getting ourselves into tonight, you’ll stick it out. No running away if things get awkward. We play it till the end—or until we get kicked out.” He laughed.

I couldn’t believe I was agreeing to this, but I felt myself nodding. “Did you not see my crazy ass get up on that stage and belt out a song called ‘Fuck You’ with my terrible voice last night? I’m not the one who needs convincing to do crazy shit.”

“That’s true. And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

His word choice sent a shiver down my spine as we headed out the door.

? ? ?

Once downstairs, we entered the packed function room, still completely clueless as to the nature of this event.

In looking around, I confirmed once again that it definitely wasn’t a wedding, because there were still no flowers in sight. The centerpieces were interesting, though: fresh pineapples.

A woman standing at what looked like a hostess station near the door asked, “Are you registered?”

“Yes,” Milo answered.

“What’s the name?”

“Milo Hooker.” He turned to me. “And this is my sister, Madeline. Or as I like to call her, Maddie.”

She pursed her lips as she checked the list. “Hmm. Hooker. I don’t see your names on here.”

Milo pretended to be outraged. “Well, there must be some kind of mistake then. I registered weeks ago.”

She seemed frustrated that she wasn’t able to find our information.

Leaning in she whispered, “Honestly, I don’t think any woman here is going to complain that I let you in. In fact, they might kill me if I let you walk out that door. So, how about I just add your names now?”

“That sounds excellent.” He smiled. “Thank you.”