If his agent was trying to convince him to come back to Houston, come back to work… I was going to lose my shit.
Two can play at this game.
I stepped close to him and dropped to my knees again. Tiller’s eyes widened comically, and his head began shaking emphatically.
But he didn’t step away.
I pulled him back out and went to town on his dick. His hand clutched at my hair as if he was going to use it to pull me off, but he didn’t. He gasped and groaned, quickly explaining to Markus he’d tripped over something. I heard the sound of Markus’s raised voice warning him against more injuries.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to fist pump. But more than anything, I wanted to stay out there under the bright clear winter sun and bring Tiller Raine to his knees.
He made a choking sound before trying to answer one of Markus’s questions. “I need to come. I mean go. I need to go. Oh fuck. No, my… foot. It’s fine. Oh god. No… it’s… lemme call you back.”
As soon as he ended the call, he dropped his phone in the snow, thrust into my throat, and roared. Birds shot from the trees, and I almost sputtered in laughter. Despite the call from Markus, I felt free. Just the snow, the sun, the birds, Tiller and me.
It was a life I could get very used to. Even if I had to wait years for the dream to turn into a reality.
“Christ, Mikey,” he croaked after his body ceased its involuntary movements. “I almost said your name by accident while I was on the phone with him.”
“Sorry.”
I wasn’t sorry.
“C’mere.” He pulled me up and kissed me, nuzzling his cold nose against my warm neck. “God, you’re good at that.”
I indulged in the feel of his arms around me, trying my hardest to forget about the phone call, but I knew it wouldn’t last.
“I have to call him back,” he said after a few minutes of post-oral snuggling. “He said Gonzales wants me on the line during the game doing some analysis.”
He searched my eyes for something. Disappointment? Anger? Judgment?
“I understand,” I told him, trying to smile. “It’s your job. Of course I understand.”
His hands came up to cup my cheeks. They were warm and tender, causing me to close my eyes and sink into his touch. “Let me call him back, and then we’ll go get the tree. We can decorate it during commercial breaks.”
Even though I knew that was a pipe dream, I agreed. It would give me something to do during the game instead of stew in my bitterness and daydream about a life I probably would never have. Reality had sunk in overnight, and I’d realized one casual conversation with strangers wasn’t likely to turn into a real opportunity here in Aster Valley.
We headed back to the house and cleaned up before bundling up in tons more layers and heading to the diner to ask for a recommendation for a Christmas tree farm nearby. When we walked into the diner, the place was packed. It shouldn’t have surprised me since it was a Sunday, smack-dab in the center of prime brunch hours. Thankfully, the football game wasn’t scheduled until midafternoon, so we had enough time to do our shopping before needing to return to the house and get Tiller settled with his headset.
“Ooh!” Pim said, spotting us as soon as we came in. He excused himself from the family he was seating and came bustling over to us. “You won’t believe what I overheard this morning. A hoity-toity couple from Big City, USA, was in talking all excitedly about a chef from Texas they wanted to convince to help them open a B&B right here in our very own Aster Valley! Can you believe it?”
I blinked at him, unable to process whether he was teasing me or being serious. Pim shook my shoulder and grinned wide. “They were talking about you, hon. Isn’t that exciting? I told Bill it would be ah-mazing to have you two move here and take up residence out at the old Rockley place. Do you knit? Does one of you knit? Well, it doesn’t matter. I can teach you. We’ll have a knitting night at your place in front of the fireplace. Get a few big sofas, some snacks… I can picture it now. We’ll have to order in wine by the case, but maybe the big box store out by…”
I let his voice fade out while I let the thought sink in. Maybe… maybe this was a real opportunity. Could it be?
If they were truly interested in moving forward with their idea, was that something I wanted to seriously consider?
I glanced at Tiller, who looked as shell-shocked as I felt. He was being oddly quiet. My heart squeezed at the sight of him, hinting at the answer. I wasn’t sure I was ready to consider moving away from him.
“Pop, take a breath and let them sit down first,” Solo said with a chuckle.
I swallowed and shook my head. “Oh, no. We actually came to ask about finding a Christmas tree.”
Solo pointed us in the right direction and even pulled a flyer out of somewhere with the tree farm information on it. After gently extricating ourselves from Pim’s excited chatter, we followed the directions out of town and eventually pulled down a narrow lane decorated with red-beribboned wreaths. Snow weighted down piney branches interspersed between naked aspen trees. I let go of thoughts of the bed-and-breakfast idea and let myself live in this moment with Tiller.
When we got to the end of the lane, there was a big open parking area filled with minivans and SUVs. Kids ran around excitedly in thick parkas and colorful hats while a bonfire crackled from a stone ring nearby. It was everything I’d always wanted to have in a Christmas tree excursion but never had.
“This is amazing,” I said in an awed voice. “They’re toasting marshmallows. Look!”
Tiller’s voice rumbled with laughter. “This is what it’s like visiting a real Christmas tree farm and not one of those home store lots in Houston.”
I hustled out of the vehicle and reached for Tiller’s hand to yank him toward the trees I could see beyond the parking area. His laugh followed me down the long rows until I finally stopped and stared at the view I spotted beyond the last tree in the row.
A horse-drawn sleigh moved across a snowy field in the distance with the jagged peaks of the Rockies in the distance.
“Tiller,” I breathed, pointing with one of the bright red mittens I’d purchased at the gift shop next door to Truman’s spice store. We’d already been back to see Truman twice since our first full day in Aster Valley, and he’d introduced us to the woman who owned the shop. “Look.”
He slid his arm low across my back as we stood at the edge of the tree farm looking at the sight. “Truman said there was someone here who did sleigh rides. Did you want to book one?”
“Oh, no. God no,” I said quickly. “I hate horses. But it’s pretty from afar, isn’t it?”
He laughed again, a sound that was beginning to feel like oxygen to me. Necessary… and thankfully plentiful.
“Very pretty.” He turned and kissed me slowly on the cheek. “But not as pretty as you. And not as pretty as this giant tree is going to be in our house.”
I turned to look at the one he pointed to. He was right. It was gorgeous. I didn’t correct him when he called it our house because I wanted to pretend it was.
It could all be pretend until the real world threatened to interfere again.
Which, of course, it did only a few hours later. This time it was my dad.