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Rowan
“Honey, I’m hooome.”
Rowan glanced up from the skillet he was cooking dinner in, smiling over his shoulder as Milo left a trail of Milo things all the way over to him.
He bounced up to place a kiss on Rowan’s cheek before hopping onto the counter.
Rowan shifted him bodily with one hand a little farther from the stovetop. Better to be safe than sorry, and Milo had a lot of wayward limbs. But he left his hand resting on Milo’s thigh.
He could cook with one hand; the pan just needed agitating at this point.
“How was your shift at the shop?” Rowan asked.
Milo looked a little tired, but it was a normal sort of tired, nothing like the exhaustion of before. Rowan hadn’t even known how bad it was until he saw the subtle changes appear. Rowan had met Milo when he was stretched too thin with little support for his dragon. After mating, even just a couple of weeks later, it was like night and day. Milo was shining.
Milo kicked his feet against the counter, playing with Rowan’s fingers absently. “Long. But I’m bringing home the bacon, baby. Keeping you in buttoned-up shirts and plant pots.”
Rowan snorted. “Are you liking your new schedule?”
“Only working at the coffee shop is definitely easier to keep track of.”
“And healthier.”
“I was doing fine!”
“Tell that to the nine Red Bulls and the gallon of coffee you were drinking daily to get by.”
Milo huffed. “I still think you should up my limit. This is cruel and unusual punishment. Who drinks one coffee a day?”
“You’re allowed two on weekends,” Rowan said serenely.
Milo whined, which was usually a surefire way for him to get Rowan to cave instantly, but this was one thing he wouldn’t bend on. He wanted Milo around for a long time, which meant he couldn’t send his heart into an early grave. Rowan was in charge of it now and he didn’t take that care lightly.
He turned off the burner and let go of Milo so he could plate the food.
He’d gotten into cooking about the same time as Milo had moved in. Which wasn’t really a conversation that had happened, more like a thing where they had mated and then Milo just never left.
All the dishes Rowan made were simple, but he was getting better at it by the day now he had more time away from the stresses of the company. His father had been good to his word and scaled Rowan’s position back immediately, putting him in charge of one department only: hoard building design.
Rowan had never felt happier leaving the office at five like everyone else. Not being on call for every little thing. Not feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He could come home at a reasonable hour and see Milo lying upside down on the couch or waiting for him in bed. He could eat meals with him and go on small dates and not have to worry about being pulled away.
His mom seemed to like teaching him some “family recipes” too and Milo was effusive with the compliments even if it was just an omelet. He’d even gotten some new herb plants to add to Rowan’s hoard.
The domesticity was glorious.
“How’s the project coming along?” Milo asked as he watched him. “My hoard are getting too comfortable in your fancy-pants building, and they might tie themselves to some trees pretty soon to avoid leaving.”
Rowan laughed at the image. “Everything’s on track. The plumbers will be done any day now and then it’s the electricians, floors, finishing touches, and decorations. Two to three months is the estimate.”
“Can we go see it again?” Milo asked, following him to the table where the cutlery was already set out.
Milo had been anxious to see the building at every stage. Demolition, breaking ground on the foundation, when the scaffolding went up, when the walls went in.
Milo and Ethel were regulars and knew the foreman by name.
They sat down at the table and Rowan nodded. “I’ll make an appointment.”
