Page 16 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

TILLER - FIVE YEARS LATER

“Did you take your fish oil supplement?” Mikey asked. I’d learned early on that, despite his hopeful claims the day I hired him, the man didn’t actually answer to Mike or Michael.

“Yes, dear,” I muttered, shoving shit into my duffle. I was running late to practice, and for some reason I couldn’t get the bag to close.

“Don’t call me that. You do know I’ve already packed your stuff, right? That’s why the bag won’t close. You packed stuff on top of what I’d already packed.”

I glanced up at him. Mikey stood leaning against the doorjamb to my bedroom.

He wore faded plaid pajama pants and an oversized Riggers T-shirt he’d most likely stolen from my ridiculously large stash if he hadn’t gotten it from Coach.

I remembered the first year he’d worked for me when we’d been diligent about ignoring each other for the most part.

He hadn’t come in my personal area of the house, and I hadn’t gone anywhere near his garage apartment.

But it hadn’t taken me too long to realize he actually had come into my personal space since he was the one who did the laundry.

I hadn’t intended for him to do the laundry. That fact needs to be clear. I’d hired a housekeeper to handle cleaning and laundry, but Mikey had quickly made the executive decision that the housekeeper needed to go.

“She took pictures of your underwear and put them on Instagram,” he’d told me when I’d finally noticed and confronted him about her disappearance. “So I fired her.”

“You can’t fire her. She works for me,” I’d said. Stupidly. “Get her back.”

“Mhm. Okay. Sure.”

I’d never seen her again.

After yanking out the duplicate gear and tossing it onto the unmade bed, I zipped the bag closed and headed his way. “Antone, Peevy, and Colin are coming for dinner. That okay?”

I passed by him and tried not to inhale.

A sleepy Mikey was the best kind of Mikey, and I had no business even knowing that, much less enjoying it.

It had only taken a year and one crazy playoff season for Mikey to stop worrying about showing up perfectly pressed and dressed to prepare breakfast, and honestly, I’d been relieved.

It was easier for me to think of him as a generous roommate who happened to fix me breakfast than an employee who dressed to impress.

“Colin is not okay,” he said as he followed me down the hall and into the kitchen. “He looks at me funny.”

I whipped around and almost knocked into him. “What? Funny like how?” If any of my teammates even thought about messing with my… Mikey, they were going to have words with me.

He sighed. His hair was so adorably messy, I wanted to put my fingers in it. I’d been having these inappropriate thoughts more and more lately, and it made my teeth ache. “Fine, I kind of… hooked up with him, okay? And he’s upset because I won’t do it again.”

I stared at him. The sun streamed into the kitchen from the huge windows, and every stainless steel surface gleamed in its usual pristine state.

The only thing on the large island besides the usual giant pottery bowl full of fresh fruit and Mikey’s personal recipe notebook on its custom stand was a single place setting with a steaming casserole dish on a trivet right next to it and the familiar thermos with my protein smoothie in it.

I knew from experience there would be a large soft-sided cooler bag in the fridge with my snacks and lunch already packed and ready.

Mikey was an amazing chef. I was spoiled as hell, and everyone on the team envied me.

Thanks to his knowledge and talent, I ate like a king and my body was fueled to perfection.

Over the past five years, I’d packed on lean muscle, and I now felt better than I had at sixteen.

Who knew nutrition made such a difference? Everyone but me, apparently.

“You slept with Colin Saris?” My voice might have squeaked a little at the end.

“I didn’t sleep with him. We just kind of… did some other things. Don’t tell anyone, though. He’s not out.”

“No shit he’s not out,” I snapped. “The man has a different woman in his bed every damned night. How the hell did you end up there?”

I wasn’t sure why the idea of my assistant slash chef sleeping with one of my teammates upset me so much, but it did. It really, really did.

“Long story,” he said with the flap of a hand. “Anyway, I’ll steer clear tonight. Maybe Sam wants to come over and watch a movie with me.”

I pictured Sam Rigby, Mikey’s unlikely best friend from high school, the gruff motorcycle guy who I’d never really been able to pin down.

Sam was gay or bi, so why hadn’t the two of them gotten together?

Maybe they had. Maybe they had a history together I didn’t know about. I reached for my chest and rubbed it.

“Who says I don’t want to watch a movie with you and Sam?” Hopefully I didn’t sound as whiney as I felt.

“Stop whining. Of course you can watch a movie with us. You just have to kick out your teammates before we start it.”

Now I was whining for sure. “They never leave. They come here and eat all our food and never fucking leave.”

The truth was, that was my fault. I’d worked very hard to fill my house with teammates as much as possible to keep from winding up alone with Mikey. Ever since the day Bruce had made the original arrangement, I’d known Mikey Vining would be a dangerous temptation.

But he was hella off-limits. Like… seriously off-limits. Lion enclosure at the zoo off-limits.

“And you can’t complain about our movie selection like you did last time,” he continued as if I’d never said anything.

“You picked The Shining ,” I reminded him. “And I had nightmares for months. Anyway, don’t change the subject. You and Colin? He’s gay? Since when?”

“He’s probably bi since you yourself pointed out all the Rigger chicks he’s slept with. And I know for a fact he’s slept with Ira Whatsit—that ball boy or whatever you call them. That’s how I found out about his big dick. Ira said it wasn’t to be missed. He lied.”

Against my will, I pictured my teammate in the shower. He wasn’t exactly a porn star, but the man had assets. I wasn’t about to debate it with my assistant, though. That would be crossing a line. I grunted instead.

Mikey continued. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have hooked up with him in the first place. My dad would fucking kill me if he found out.”

I thought about Coach Vining discovering his slutty running back had fucked his baby boy. It wouldn’t be Mikey who’d get killed in that scenario.

“Well, I can’t uninvite him. Just stick near me or Sam and we’ll run interference.

” I made a mental note to text Sam on my way to practice.

He worked days as a contractor and some nights as a bartender, so calling him this early in the morning was a no-go.

Ever since Mikey’s appendix had ruptured the second year he worked for me, Sam and I had become close enough friends to bypass Mikey from time to time, especially if it was related to protecting Mikey.

Mikey narrowed his eyes at me. “I can handle myself.”

It wasn’t the first time over the years he’d made the same statement. And he’d been right exactly zero percent of the times he’d made such a claim.

“Remember Jack?” I asked, ticking them off on my fingers. “Or Lonny, or Ben, or Marco?”

He gave me the evil eye and nodded at the casserole dish. “Eat your slop before you’re late.”

I pulled the top off the casserole dish and saw my absolute favorite breakfast dish. My heart did a little flip. “You made me egg surprise?”

“It’s called crustless sunrise veggie quiche.”

“No it isn’t. I named it when you first came up with it. You can’t fancify it just because you feel like it.” I dished out a huge portion, and Mikey slapped my hand away when I reached in for another half portion to add to it.

“I can and I will. One day I’m going to publish my cookbook, and it’s not going to be called egg fucking surprise. You’ll puke if you eat that much before practice. Why do you think I bought smaller plates?”

I glanced at the plate with a frown. “These are our same plates.”

“Pfft. Sure they are. Same plates. Stop being a pig.”

I squinted at the plate and turned it around on the place mat. The colorful design looked exactly like it had since I’d bought them my rookie year. “The decorator said they were from an art gallery downtown. One of a kind.”

“Well, your decorator’s art gallery must source from the same place as Crate and Barrel. What do you want me to say?”

I shoved the food into my mouth and groaned.

Like clockwork, as soon as I’d downed half my portion, Mikey reached back to pour me a coffee from the carafe on the counter.

I was sure he was already on his second, or even third, cup himself, but he didn’t allow me to have coffee on an empty stomach, and I sure as hell wasn’t allowed more than one cup.

“What are you doing today?” I asked, taking my first sip and savoring it.

“I’m delivering muffins to Kiki’s, two lasagnes to D’Angelo’s house, and a cold couscous salad to Hilltop Cafe.”

“The one with the feta?”

He nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “They’re putting it with their veggie panini on the daily lunch special, I think. I had to make four giant trays after it sold out last time.”

“Did you save me some?” It was a stupid question, and his facial expression confirmed it.

“It’s in your lunchbox along with grilled salmon, a big salad with eggs on it—shut up, I don’t want to hear it—an apple, some almonds, and your lunch smoothie.”

“I hate eggs in my salad,” I muttered under my breath anyway.

“Cry into your giant piles of money,” he shot back. It was one of his favorite expressions, and it kind of made me laugh every time he said it. Not that I’d tell him that.

“I can’t. Last time I did that, I tried wiping my eyes and my Super Bowl ring gave me a black eye.”

Mikey snickered, and that’s all I needed to hear to know I was going to have a great day.

And I did. It was the day after that when everything went to hell.