I glared at him. “He’s not even—”
My dad cut me off. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow to start. Tell them to contact Krystal once they’re ready to transition him back to the team therapists.”
“But he—” I began. Tiller shot me a look of warning, and I clamped my lips together. It was none of my business. I was simply the PA. I was supposed to do as I was told.
I’d never been very good at that.
After a few more minutes, Coach and Markus blew back out of the hospital room like they’d never been there.
Tiller looked over at me. “Sam?”
“Don’t ask,” I said on a sigh. “I needed my parents off my back.”
“So… you’re not…?”
“No! God, no. Me and Sam? No. He’s a nice guy. Sexy as hell, but—”
Tiller’s nostrils flared. “No need to elaborate.”
“You don’t find him attractive?” I asked. Even though I knew Sam would never go there, I’d always wondered about Tiller.
Tiller shook his head. “First of all, he’s too damned quiet. Can’t ever tell what the man’s thinking. Secondly, he needs someone he can fuss over, someone to take care of. That’s not me. Third, he’s probably a top, and I probably am, too.”
I tried not to whimper with the confirmation Tiller liked to top. It had to be the meds that were loosening his tongue, because we’d never talked about our sexual preferences before. It was part of the boss/employee line we both tried never to cross.
“Well, too bad,” I said, shaking off my mental imagery of being topped by Tiller Raine. Hard. I cleared my throat. “I plan on fussing over you and taking care of you, so you’ll need to get on board.”
His lips turned into a slurry grin. “I like being babied by you, though. That’s different.”
“Well… good. Um…”
“What about you?” Tiller asked.
“What about me?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You and Sam.”
I shook my head more violently than necessary. “Nope. I love him. I do. But you remember how he was when I had my appendix out. He’s awful in an emergency, and I attract emergencies like you attract cheerleaders.” I bit my teeth together. Hadn’t meant to say that last part.
“There has to be another reason.”
I busied myself straightening up the two items on his side table. “He kissed me once, and it was just… meh.”
The silence was enough to make me look up. He was glaring at me like I’d said something offensive.
I threw up my hands. “What?”
“You and Sam. Kissing. Mpfh.”
The look in his eyes turned heated, and it made my stomach all squirrelly. “Oh, hey. Let’s get you out of here.” I bolted for the hallway, praying I could find a nurse or anyone who would release us from this oddball conversation and let us end this crazy day.
Thankfully, my dad had already greased the wheels and the nurses’ station was already processing his discharge.
When we finally got home, it was well after midnight. “Bed,” he murmured.
“Food first,” I said.
“Not hungry.” Tiller leaned heavily against me as I guided him into the house from the garage with an arm around his waist. He was a little unsteady from the pain meds they’d given him.
“Too bad. I’ll make something easy and quick. Sit here in the comfy chair.” I maneuvered him to the overstuffed chair in the sitting area of the kitchen before moving to the big Sub-Zero fridge.
“This is your chair.”
“Actually, it’s yours. I just use it.”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Nah. It’s yours. Can’t imagine anyone else sitting in it. I love coming home and seeing you curled up here. Makes me happy.”
“Stop being so sweet. Go back to being whatever stupid nickname your teammates use. Raine of fire? Raine down hell? Raine it in? Purple Raine?”
He snorted but didn’t open his eyes. “Purple Raine. Nice one. No sweet Raine?”
I shook my head emphatically even though he couldn’t see it. “Never. Not possible.”
“What’re you making me?”
I flicked on the gas stove and filled the pot from the built-in faucet over the range. “Protein spaghetti with garlic marinara.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “I think food is how you love people.”
God dammit.
I bit the hell out of my lip before responding. “Nah. It’s just how I make my living.”
Tiller snorted. “I got a bridge to sell you.”
I got busy making enough spaghetti for both of us and then doubled it to make leftovers since it was another one of Tiller’s favorites.
If feeding people was my love language, Tiller was the most beloved human on earth. And I was in big fucking trouble.
Because I wanted him. I wanted him so fucking badly.
3
Tiller
“I will not watch one more episode of this bullshit,” I grumbled. “Benson should know by now to steel her heart against this shit. And if Peter doesn’t stop lecturing her like a child…”
Sam groaned.