the piles of boxes, just as he’d done since the day they’d been delivered.
A sharp knock pulled Will’s attention away, and he crossed the small shop to unlock and open the door for Milo, who was standing there holding two cups and wearing a goofy smile on his face.
“You forgot your jacket again,” Will said.
“It’s summer.”
“It’s supposed to rain,” Will cringed at the thought he must sound like Milo’s mother. He was keenly aware of the age gap between them. Milo couldn’t be older than twenty or twenty-one, and Will was staring down his late thirties.
Milo shrugged. “But I’ll be inside. Besides, it’s not that cold.”
He handed one of the cups to Will as he walked inside before promptly tripping over a loose shoelace and pitching forward, spilling his coffee all over the floor and himself in the process.
“Goddammit!” Milo cried, thrusting his hands forward to catch himself on the counter before he could fall all the way to the floor.
“Are you okay?” Will asked, rushing over to him.
Milo stood and held his stained shirt out from his body. He was soaked. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little damp and a lot embarrassed, but I’ll live. Sorry about the cursing. Not a very good way to start off my first day at a new job, I guess.”
Will was aware of just how damp Milo was. Through the clinginess of the wet fabric, Will could see the definition of Milo’s muscles as he brushed himself off, the coffee stains setting into the soft gray T-shirt he wore. It took a moment for Will to gather his wits, distracted by the sight before him.
“Colorful language doesn’t bother me. As long as you watch your mouth in front of the customers—assuming we ever have any—I don’t care if you swear like a sailor around here.”
“I should be able to manage that. My two left feet, on the other hand, I’m afraid are a recurrent problem. My dad always joked that it was how he knew I was his kid. I inherited my penchant for klutziness from him. I could never seem to avoid accidents, and the running joke in my family is that I can take any object and make it dangerous.”
“We’ll keep you away from the sharp stuff, then,” Will said, inexplicably charmed by the man in front of him.
Milo laughed. “Deal.”
“Do you want to borrow a shirt that isn’t quite as… soggy?” Will asked, his mind dipping momentarily into an image of Milo peeling his wet shirt from his body and over his head.
“No, thanks. It’ll dry. I’m guessing we’re going to be working on getting this place set up, and I’ll likely be getting a bit dirty anyway. I should be fine in this. Unless you’d rather I didn’t walk around looking like I tie-dyed my shirt in latte.”
“No, as long as you’re not uncomfortable.”
“I’m okay.” Milo looked around the room. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure where to start. I think most of the equipment and supplies have been ordered. There are a ton of boxes in the back, but I haven’t even had a chance to look in them yet,” Will lied. He’d had plenty of opportunity, but the thought of tackling the business that should have been Spencer’s left him cold.
“That sounds like a good project to take on first, then.”
Will led Milo into the back where the cardboard mountain towered almost as high as he was tall.
“Here it is. Should we get started?”
“Yep. Do you have a box cutter?” Milo asked.
“Oh no. We just talked about this. No sharp objects for you.”
Milo rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not a kid.”
“Fine, but I’m not taking you to the ER if you slice your hand open.”
Will handed Milo the box cutter, and he picked up a pair of scissors, which he used to slice through the tape holding the first box closed.
“Looks like vases in here,” Will said, rearranging the bubble paper wrapping them.
“Here too,” Milo said, holding up an identical vessel to the ones in
A sharp knock pulled Will’s attention away, and he crossed the small shop to unlock and open the door for Milo, who was standing there holding two cups and wearing a goofy smile on his face.
“You forgot your jacket again,” Will said.
“It’s summer.”
“It’s supposed to rain,” Will cringed at the thought he must sound like Milo’s mother. He was keenly aware of the age gap between them. Milo couldn’t be older than twenty or twenty-one, and Will was staring down his late thirties.
Milo shrugged. “But I’ll be inside. Besides, it’s not that cold.”
He handed one of the cups to Will as he walked inside before promptly tripping over a loose shoelace and pitching forward, spilling his coffee all over the floor and himself in the process.
“Goddammit!” Milo cried, thrusting his hands forward to catch himself on the counter before he could fall all the way to the floor.
“Are you okay?” Will asked, rushing over to him.
Milo stood and held his stained shirt out from his body. He was soaked. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little damp and a lot embarrassed, but I’ll live. Sorry about the cursing. Not a very good way to start off my first day at a new job, I guess.”
Will was aware of just how damp Milo was. Through the clinginess of the wet fabric, Will could see the definition of Milo’s muscles as he brushed himself off, the coffee stains setting into the soft gray T-shirt he wore. It took a moment for Will to gather his wits, distracted by the sight before him.
“Colorful language doesn’t bother me. As long as you watch your mouth in front of the customers—assuming we ever have any—I don’t care if you swear like a sailor around here.”
“I should be able to manage that. My two left feet, on the other hand, I’m afraid are a recurrent problem. My dad always joked that it was how he knew I was his kid. I inherited my penchant for klutziness from him. I could never seem to avoid accidents, and the running joke in my family is that I can take any object and make it dangerous.”
“We’ll keep you away from the sharp stuff, then,” Will said, inexplicably charmed by the man in front of him.
Milo laughed. “Deal.”
“Do you want to borrow a shirt that isn’t quite as… soggy?” Will asked, his mind dipping momentarily into an image of Milo peeling his wet shirt from his body and over his head.
“No, thanks. It’ll dry. I’m guessing we’re going to be working on getting this place set up, and I’ll likely be getting a bit dirty anyway. I should be fine in this. Unless you’d rather I didn’t walk around looking like I tie-dyed my shirt in latte.”
“No, as long as you’re not uncomfortable.”
“I’m okay.” Milo looked around the room. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure where to start. I think most of the equipment and supplies have been ordered. There are a ton of boxes in the back, but I haven’t even had a chance to look in them yet,” Will lied. He’d had plenty of opportunity, but the thought of tackling the business that should have been Spencer’s left him cold.
“That sounds like a good project to take on first, then.”
Will led Milo into the back where the cardboard mountain towered almost as high as he was tall.
“Here it is. Should we get started?”
“Yep. Do you have a box cutter?” Milo asked.
“Oh no. We just talked about this. No sharp objects for you.”
Milo rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not a kid.”
“Fine, but I’m not taking you to the ER if you slice your hand open.”
Will handed Milo the box cutter, and he picked up a pair of scissors, which he used to slice through the tape holding the first box closed.
“Looks like vases in here,” Will said, rearranging the bubble paper wrapping them.
“Here too,” Milo said, holding up an identical vessel to the ones in
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