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.”