Page 31 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

TILLER

When the doorbell in my dream continued to ring, I finally somehow realized it was real life breaking through. I blinked an eye open and saw the pale, smooth skin of Mikey’s bare shoulder.

Memories from last night flashed through my head, making me hard instantly. I pushed my dick against Mikey’s leg without thinking about it. As he groaned and pushed back, I leaned in to kiss his shoulder.

“Stay asleep. Someone’s at the door,” I said quietly. “I’m going to check.”

“Stay here,” he mumbled sleepily. “With me.”

I kissed his messy hair and moved my lips down to kiss below his ear. “I’m coming right back. Keep my spot warm.”

When I got up, though, I quickly realized I didn’t have anything to put on.

My cum-stained pajama pants were probably still in a puddle on the bathroom floor.

I reached for the bath towel I’d discarded after the shower and wrapped it around my waist before moving out to the main part of the house.

By now, a loud pounding had taken the place of the doorbell.

“Coming,” I called out. “Hold on.”

I approached the thick front doors with caution. My agent had put me through media training enough to know never to give strangers a money shot. I was currently standing there in nothing but a towel.

“Who is it?” I asked through the door.

“Stacy Clifton, the listing agent. I’m here for the ten-o’clock showing.”

What the hell?

“This is a rental property,” I said stupidly.

“I understand. Would you please open the door so I can explain?”

“Give me a minute to get dressed.” I raced to the master bedroom, thanking god and whoever else might be listening for not putting windows on either side of the big front doors.

I threw on some jeans and a Rigger hoodie before sliding some thick socks on my feet.

When I made it back to the front door, I took a deep breath before opening it.

An attractive, smartly dressed woman with an iPad in her arms stood next to an older couple. A silver Mercedes SUV sat parked behind my rental in the circular drive.

“Oh dear lord above,” the iPad lady said breathlessly, tucking errant wisps of blond hair behind her ear. “You’re Tiller Raine.”

I didn’t have my usual patience this morning since Mikey was naked in bed waiting for me. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of helping him out with his morning wood.

“May I help you?” I asked.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Stacy… oh, I already said that. And I’m here to show the Civettis this property. I tried getting in touch with your assistant to let him know that we’d booked a showing, but I must have the wrong number.”

I blinked against the bright morning light bouncing off all the snow. “I don’t understand.”

“The property is currently for sale. One of the conditions of the rental is allowing us a few showings when the need arises. Normally, you’d have more notice than this, but Gary and Erica are just passing through and wanted to preview this listing as an investment property.”

Her eyes were wide and a tiny bit manic, as if she was trying to send me a message about how important this showing was to her. I didn’t imagine many people came through town with the kind of money it would take to buy a property like this, so she probably needed to strike while the iron was hot.

“Sure, ah… come in.” I thought of Mikey warm and snuggly in his bed. “Just give me a minute to tell my assistant before bringing them past the kitchen, okay?”

The look of relief on her face was comical. “Yes, of course. No problem. Please give my apologies to Mr. Vining.”

I left the door open behind me when I turned to head toward Mikey’s room.

Stacy immediately began describing the architectural features of the grand entryway, and my ears perked up at her mention of the house’s varied history.

I kind of wanted to learn more about it.

The town had piqued Mike’s and my curiosity, and it sounded like Stacy knew some cool stuff about the place.

When I got back to Mikey’s room, the bed was empty and the bathroom door was closed. I quickly pulled the bedding up and made my best effort at tidying the mostly tidy room in case Stacy and the Civettis came back here.

Mikey came out of the bathroom a minute later with a fresh pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. His hair was brushed, and I could smell the familiar mint of toothpaste as I leaned in to kiss him. I wrapped my arms around him, biting back the wince when my shoulder protested.

Time slowed down when I was with him. Nothing else mattered except the taste of him and the smooth expanse of his warm skin under my fingertips.

“Who was it?” he murmured against my lips.

“Mm.” I kept kissing him. My head was filled with happy cotton, and my dick was doing its best to drill a nice trench in poor Mikey’s stomach.

He pulled back with a laugh and put his hands on my cheeks. They were cool from the water in the sink. “Who was at the door?”

“Oh,” I said, trying to shake off the Mikey fog. “Real estate agent. Apparently the house is for sale and they have a showing this morning. You need to get dressed.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion before smoothing over with remembrance. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot I agreed to that. But they were supposed to give us advanced notice.”

I dropped another kiss on his forehead and stepped back to let him get dressed. “It’s fine. Let’s go into town and get breakfast again. I want to try the hazelnut crepes.”

Mikey gave me the exact reaction I’d baited him into.

“Like hell are you having hazelnut crepes. But you can taste mine between bites of your veggie frittata,” he said, turning to the dresser to pull out a long-sleeve shirt and some jeans.

I watched him like a perv as he stripped down to pull on his boxer briefs, and when I caught sight of his half-hard dick hanging from the tidy nest of dark curls, I dropped to the floor and knee-walked over to him.

“Let me taste.”

“I thought I was getting dressed,” he said, swatting at me. “I’m not about to let random strangers walk in on Tiller Raine giving some guy head. Get up.”

I pouted up at him. “If I can’t have the crepes, I want?—”

I didn’t get a chance to finish. The sound of voices in the hallway came through the closed bedroom door and jolted Mikey and me into action.

“Fuck,” Mikey hissed, yanking up his jeans. “Clean the bathroom!”

I went into the bathroom and slid a few of his things into a drawer before wiping down the water spots from the counter with a towel. Why we gave a shit about helping sell this house was beyond me, but I hadn’t been raised to be rude.

When I stepped back out of the bathroom, the bedroom door was open and Mikey was chatting pleasantly with the trio in the hallway.

“Oh,” Mikey said, eyes fluttering nervously like he’d just been complimented. “Thank you. Those are my holiday spice muffins. You’re welcome to try them.”

The woman I assumed was Mrs. Civetti looked sheepish. “Are you sure? It’s just that they smell divine.”

Mr. Civetti laughed. “Poor thing hasn’t had breakfast yet. I dragged her out first thing this morning to look at properties without feeding her first. That would be mighty kind of you, sir.”

I followed them into the kitchen and watched as Mikey made friends through food.

He’d done it so many times before, but it never failed to impress me.

As he offered the Civettis and the agent fresh coffee, he explained what made the muffins smell so good and how they were actually healthy, “but you’d never know it. ”

Once the agent informed the couple who I was, Mikey told them he was my personal chef. Their eyes lit up with interest, and they began asking him a million questions. I loved seeing the interest pointed at him for once. Mikey was incredibly talented and deserved all the recognition in the world.

He talked with his hands and a big smile, answering their questions about how he knew so much about nutrition, interesting things he’d learned in the program at Texas A&M, his work with pro ballplayers and private catering clients, and what got him into cooking in the first place.

I cut in to add that he currently had a cookbook in the works with a publisher and was going to be a household name very soon. It caused a sexy-as-fuck blush on Mikey’s face and an excited energy from the older couple.

“Oh gracious, that’s amazing,” Mrs. Civetti said, turning her eyes on me. “Aren’t you the lucky one? This muffin is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. What are some of your favorite dishes Michael makes back home?”

As I began to brag about my favorite recipes and what a difference Mikey had made to my own health and that of many of my teammates, I saw the heart eyes begin to appear from both Civettis.

“Would you consider a move to Aster Valley?” Mr. Civetti asked Mikey with mischief in his eyes.

Mikey chuckled. “Aster Valley is lovely. I’ve only been here a couple of days, but I love it so far. I told Tiller I wish I could buy this place and turn it into my own bed-and-breakfast.”

I could tell he was joking, answering as if it was a daydream rather than reality, but still, the idea of it made my stomach uneasy.

Mrs. Civetti clapped her hand to her chest and shot hopeful eyes at Mikey. “Oh! That’s exactly what we have in mind for this place, but we would need a chef and someone to run it…”

Now my stomach situation turned into an actual wobble. This was bordering on something other than a hypothetical.

“We should get going and let the Civettis get back to their investment assessment,” I said carefully. I couldn’t decide if I was being an asshole denying Mikey an opportunity or a friend protecting him from getting his hopes up.

“Yes, of course,” Mikey said quickly. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your viewing. Please take some muffins with you. I’ll grab a zip-top bag for you to put them in.” He busied himself with the muffins until he had a bag for the Civettis and one for the folks at the diner.