“He’s my boss,” I said for the millionth time in five years.
Sam reached for another apple slice. “Do you want me to list the famous boss/assistant couples throughout history? Because I can’t. I don’t know any off the top of my head. But I’m sure there are many. And if you’re not okay with it, quit. You can make a living on your catering easy peasy.”
I heard the distant rumble of the garage door opening. Suddenly I found myself scrambling around, running in a circle because I couldn’t remember what I was doing. “Act casual,” I hissed, reaching for anything I could find to look purposeful.
Sam stared at me. “What are you doing?”
When Tiller walked in, I froze. He looked up from the mail he was carrying and smiled at Sam before turning to me and tilting his head in confusion. “Why are you holding salad tomatoes up to your ears?”
“Oh, ah… They’d make really good earrings, don’t you think?” I wiggled them around a little like they were the dangly kind.
Sam snorted and shoved the apple slice in his mouth, no doubt to keep from calling me out for shits and giggles.
“Never mind,” I muttered, tossing the tomatoes back onto the cutting board. “How was work?”
My heart still thundered unevenly in my chest. He was right there and so fucking pretty. Familiar in a way that made my heart squeeze.
Tiller grinned which made me want to climb him like a tree. Preferably naked.
“Fine. Mopellei’s wife is pregnant.”
I thought of the Canadian quarterback who I still held a stupid grudge against for getting Tiller hurt—yes, I knew it wasn’t his fault—and his friendly wife.
“That’s exciting,” I admitted. “Zauna always gets heart-eyes when she’s around the other players’ kids. She’ll be a great mom.”
I was excruciatingly aware of the physical distance between Tiller and me. My fingers itched to touch him, and I had to hold my body still to keep from swaying toward him.
Meanwhile, Tiller had no such awareness. He tossed the mail down on the counter, strode over to me, grabbed the back of my head in one giant paw, and kissed the ever-loving fuck out of me.
Right in front of Sam.
It took about one nanosecond for me to forget about Sam, salad tomatoes, where I was, my own name, and anything else not related to Tiller Raine’s tongue in my mouth. When he pulled away, I was pretty sure I was a puddle of goo on the floor.
“Alrighty then,” Sam said in a voice laced with dry humor. “That happened.”
“Um…” I tried getting the goo back together and reassembling some form of human brain with it. “Um.”
Tiller smiled affectionately and leaned back in to kiss me next to my ear. He whispered, “I’ve been waiting all day to put my hands on you. I couldn’t wait a second longer.”
I blinked up at him like he was Elvis Presley found alive and well and sitting on forty some-odd years of new music. At least that’s what I assumed I looked like. Surprised stupid and pretty fucking happy.
“Do you want me to pretend to go in the other room?” Sam asked. “Because I can do that.”
Tiller laughed and let me go. “No. Sorry. It’s fine. How’d it go on the Kelsey job? Did you find a new carpenter?”
As they started talking about Sam’s current construction project, I wandered around in a lovestruck daze, cutting veggies and preparing the big salad. I daydreamed about what it would be like to live this life for real. To have my good friend and my… Tiller here with me all the time. I mean… I already had them, but it was different if Tiller and I were a thing.
Which we weren’t.
But this was a daydream, and good shit was allowed to happen in Vegas. I went along on my merry way, tossing in red onion slices, fresh mozzarella, and marinated olives until the huge bowl was full. I moved on to making the dressing in the blender as their conversation moved to football.
“They going to put you in?” Sam asked.
I felt Tiller’s eyes on me. “Yeah.”
“You okay with it?”
“Depending on what the specialist says, I guess so. Coach was pretty insistent that the team needs me.”
And Tiller would never dream of letting the team down.
My back teeth ground together, but I kept my mouth shut. Not only was it not my place to interfere with his career, but he also hadn’t asked me. I’d known this was coming, and I was doing my best to be okay with it.
I was for damned sure not okay with it.
Sam glanced up at me. “We going to the game?”
I swallowed thickly and looked back down at the blender controls as if they contained the secret to world peace, eternal life, and flawless laser hair removal. “Ah, no. Actually, I booked a flight back to Aster Valley.”