Page 12 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

EPILOGUE

WINTER

It was hard to concentrate when my husband was lying outside by the pool in a tiny swimsuit. His long, lean form glowed honey tan in the late summer sun. Every time Doran’s dog dropped his nasty tennis ball on Gent’s bare back, I snorted out a laugh.

I was making guacamole because the football game was about to start, and I’d learned early on that Gent and I shared a fanatic love of football and football snacks.

I was a Broncos fan, and he followed the Houston Riggers.

Today we were starting with the Riggers’ game against Kansas City.

It was always easy to convince our non-football-loving friends to come watch with us when gorgeous Tiller Raine was starting.

The winningest wide receiver in the league was a Colorado hometown boy and the first out starter in professional football.

We all adored him and were proud fans. Whenever we got to watch Raine and the Riggers play, Gent was beside himself with excitement.

Not that you could tell from his corpse-like form spread out on the chaise lounge.

“Babe!” I called out the open french doors. “The game starts in like five minutes!”

He waved a hand idly from beside his hip and then went still again.

I heard the front door open and Summer’s voice call out. “I brought friends. Hope you’re decent!”

I glanced back out at Gent’s tight, rounded ass in the Speedo.

The elastic band on one of the legs had ridden up, exposing his tan line and a pale strip of butt cheek.

God, he was hot as fuck. I wanted to bite that ass.

I couldn’t help but chuckle when I realized if the swimsuit rode up any more, it would reveal that I had, in fact, bitten that very ass last night.

Multiple times.

“Decent enough for the likes of you,” I called back.

I transferred the guac to a bowl and took it over to the overflowing coffee table.

Summer walked in with two women I recognized from the hospital.

They were nurses who must have befriended Summer when she started working there a few months ago.

I was glad to see her with other young women in town.

I selfishly wanted her to stay in Aster Valley permanently, but I wanted her to have a full life outside of me here, too.

I dropped a kiss on her cheek and turned to the ladies. “Hey, Vicki, hi, Diya. Welcome. Make yourself at home. Let me grab Gent.”

They tittered with excitement as I walked out to the pool deck. I sat on the edge of Gent’s chaise and rubbed his sun-warmed back. “You gotta get up. Everyone’s arriving for the game.”

He turned over and stretched, arching his hips up and showing off a very impressive package. I scrambled to cut off the angle to the house so no one saw Gent’s big-ass erection. “Jesus! Put that thing away,” I hissed.

His lazy smile made my stomach flip. “That’s not what you said last night.”

I laughed. “Last night we didn’t have two young nurses already swooning over being at Gentry Kane’s mountain mansion. They’re going to post GUS dick on social media if you’re not careful.”

“Gentry Waites.” His eyes flashed up at me as he corrected me the way he always did. These days, he was only Gentry Kane for work. “I have this problem because I was daydreaming about hiking Rockley trail and fucking you up against a tree in broad daylight.”

“We already did that,” I said in a low voice. “And stop talking about it or it’s going to be double-dick-day at the Waites house.”

He ran a finger along the outside of my leg and up into my shorts. “Double-dick-day is my favorite. Especially at the Waites house.”

I shivered and tried to stay focused. “Tiller Raine,” I said, clearing my throat. “It’s been a long spring and summer with no hot Riggers receiver to lust after. Today’s the day. We don’t want to miss kickoff.”

He sat up and leaned in to kiss me. I got a little confused about what I was supposed to be doing. Gent’s mouth usually had that effect on me.

Doran’s laugh cut through my haze. “Pim, put down your phone camera. Bill, rein in your husband. Gent hasn’t manscaped in weeks. It’s like the jungles of Borneo down there.”

I turned to see Doran standing with the pair of older men who owned Mustache Diner. “Hey, guys. You finally decided to suffer through some football with us?” I asked.

Pim waved his hand through the air. “Not a chance, hotcakes. I’m only here to perv on your husband in all his hirsute glory. You know how much I love some hair on a man.” He tweaked his husband’s thick salt-and-pepper mustache.

I stood up and reached out to give Pim a big hug.

He’d become a good friend in the year and a half since he’d rescued me on the side of the road by my dead jeep in the middle of a snowstorm.

Gent had been furious at the danger I’d been in.

He’d tried several times to buy me a new vehicle, but I’d been too stubborn to accept it.

At the time, I’d still felt weird about the student loan payoff.

But now… now Gent and I were equal partners.

His money was my money and vice versa. It hadn’t been an easy transition for me, but it had been important to him.

And anything important to Gent was important to me.

Bill reached out to pat me on the shoulder. “We heard you were making food,” he said. “Any day I don’t have to cook is a good day.”

Gent stepped up behind me and slid his arms around me. “I thought you were on your way to California to pick up Solomon?”

Pim reached for Bill’s hand and squeezed it.

The guys were only in their mid to late forties, but they’d always seemed paternal to me.

I was excited they were about to become fathers for real.

They’d gotten a call from an LGBTQ youth shelter in San Francisco where a young teen boy waited to be claimed by any relative who would take him.

The family who owned the shelter had run some searches and discovered Pim was somewhere in the kids’ family tree.

They’d already been to visit him several times in hopes of giving everyone involved a chance to decide what they wanted to do next.

It was not even a question for Bill and Pim.

They were desperate to bring Solomon home and help him have a good life here in Aster Valley, and we couldn’t wait to help any way we could.

Aster Valley might have been a small town, but in the two years we’d lived here, we’d discovered it had everything we needed to thrive.

“Tomorrow,” Bill said. “That’s actually why we’re here. We need some distraction, or Pim’s going to bust out of his skin. He’s already cleaned the house a million times, and I’ve made enough frozen casseroles to feed an army. You’d think we were having a newborn instead of a teenager.”

Gent laughed. “Teen boys eat like an army, so you’re probably good there.”

We all wandered inside where the game was just getting started. Summer was gossiping with her friends, and I noticed Pim’s ears perk up. He was the town’s main source of gossip since he ran into everyone at the diner.

“I heard Tiller Raine is dating his assistant,” Summer said. “But they have to keep it a secret because the assistant is married.”

“No, definitely not,” Vicki said, reaching for a chip and sinking it into one of the dips. “His assistant is his chef, and that guy is the coach’s son.”

Pim shoved into a spot between them on the overstuffed sectional sofa. “Tell me more. Is the assistant slash chef hot? You know how I feel about men who can cook…”

Diya almost choked on a sip of her wine. “God, I could go for a man who can cook. That’s number one on my wish list.”

“He’s hot,” a soft voice said from closer to the kitchen.

I looked over and saw Truman Sweet, the shy young man who owned the spice shop near the diner.

We’d met him the week before at the farmer’s market in town and had taken to him right away.

“I mean… if you like geeky smaller guys like… um, anyway, and yes,” he said, pushing up his dark-framed glasses with a fingertip, “He’s Coach Vining’s son. ”

His face was pink, but when he glanced up and saw Gent standing there in nothing but a Speedo, he flushed a dark red and immediately looked away.

“You know a lot about football,” Gent said, trying to be friendly.

“Oh no. Not at all. I only studied this particular game and its notable players in preparation for coming today.”

Awkward silence descended for half a beat before Doran stepped forward and took Truman by the elbow.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s find you something to drink, and you can tell me more about the hot assistant slash chef and his potential secret football boyfriend.

It sounds like something out of a romance novel or a soap opera. One of the two, and I love both.”

While Gent wandered back to our bedroom to change clothes, I helped everyone get something to drink and find a place to sit. Two of my own coworkers showed up with their arms full of beer and more snacks. When Gent didn’t reappear, I went looking for him.

He stood in our bedroom barefooted and freshly showered, dressed in a chest-hugging T-shirt and clean khaki shorts. My heart did its usual Gentry thump when I locked eyes with him. “What’s taking so long?” I asked.

He held up a familiar piece of note paper. “I was looking for a clean pair of socks, and I found this in your sock drawer.” He glanced at me with the same calm affection he always did. “You kept this?”

I glanced at the paper with its well-worn edges. “Of course I kept it.”

“Why?”

I stepped closer and took the paper out of his hand before gently setting it down on the dresser. I turned back to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Because when you left me this note, you asked me to wait for you.”

I leaned in and kissed him softly. “And I did.”