Mikey sighed before turning to Miller. “Did you have a chance to check out Tilly’s new place on the way here? That guest bedroom on the third floor’s got killer views, right?”
Miller’s alcohol-glazed eyes flicked to mine, and I read his thoughts without him speaking a word. I shot him a wink.
“Yes,” Miller answered politely, his voice a little slurred.
Not only had we stopped by to see his grandmother’s new purchase, he and I may have already christened Tilly’s place after we’d played a little drinking game called “Slurp the liquor off your boyfriend’s body.” It had gone so well, we’d had to get a ride to the pizza place.
“The house is beautiful, just like you said,” Miller said earnestly. “But… it’s bignormous. I can’t imagine living there by my shelf.”
Mikey hid his laugh behind another sip of beer. He wasn’t as sober as he appeared either. He and his friend Julian had apparently been “testing” wines all day for a big wedding being held at the lodge on Valentine’s Day. Julian was currently “resting his eyes” head down on the scarred wooden table next to Tiller.
I reached over and put my hand on Miller’s thigh under the table. “No need for you to stay over there by yourself. In fact, there’s no need for you to live anywhere by yourself. There’s a perfectly serviceable spot for you at my house.”
Truman’s eyes widened. “Oh, Darius, I’ve heard about your house. It’s a Catriona Ross, right? She designed the Aslan in Silverthorne. Have you seen it? It was in a magazine I saw at the dentist’s office.”
I nodded. “She’s lovely. I heard she’s designing a modern-concept ranch in Montana. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with.”
Sam’s eyebrows dipped as he turned to Miller. “Wait, did I hear correctly? Your grandmother is moving to Aster Valley?”
Miller’s body tensed. “She is?” He turned to me with big eyes. “Did you know that?”
“Babe,” I said, reaching a thumb out to smooth the crease of worry between his eyes. “She’s not moving here.” To Sam, I explained, “She bought a big vacation home here so the Marians and Wildes can come visit. She wanted Miller to move in and live there while he got settled in Aster Valley, but—”
“But I’m moving into the ski resort’s new office,” Miller interjected. “Mikey said I could.”
Mikey and I exchanged a glance, and he winked.
Miller and I had talked about our living situation until I was blue in the face. I’d wanted him to move in with me, and I knew he wanted to also, but he’d insisted it was too soon.
Mikey had finally pulled me aside and said, “Nod and agree. We all know he’s actually going to be living at your house. This just gives him plausible deniability.”
He’d been right. Miller had happily brought almost everything he owned to my house “for the night” two weeks ago. The office sofa had yet to be turned into a bed even once.
Miller turned his heart-eyes from me to Truman. “It’s across the street,” he said with a proud smile. “Isn’t that sweet?”
I clarified. “The ski resort rented the apartment above Mia and Mindy’s shop as an office so they’d have a place in town for marketing and HR. It’s a cute little setup.”
Mikey smiled, and Truman clapped his hands and grinned at Miller. “Oh my gosh, that’s perfect! I can meet you for lunch at Pim and Bill’s sometime. You have to try their patty melt.”
“I’ll be too busy managing branding and marketing for the resort,” Miller said proudly before turning to me. “Isn’t that right? I’m going to brand and market the shit out of it.”
Mikey offered him a fist bump, and I leaned in and kissed Miller’s adorable mouth. “Pretty sure you’ll still be able to make time for the odd patty melt. That’s part of why you moved here, remember?”
“The patty melts aren’t odd, I promise,” Truman said earnestly. “But the portobello burger is, so maybe proceed with caution there.”
Sam added a distracted nod. “Your lips to God’s ears, cutie,” he muttered before taking another sip of beer. He nearly choked on it. “Offensive pass interference! Did you see that? Motherfucker pushed off. They always let him get away with it. Prima donna bullshit.”
He and Tiller shared a look of incredulous exasperation, as if there couldn’t be anything worse in the world than an unfair call in football.
Mikey tapped his chin and pretended to look confused. “But isn’t that what you do, baby? Don’t you have a special move the media calls ‘making Raine space’?”
Tiller’s glare could have caught fire to the whole table. “Et tu, Brute?”
Sam and I both snorted while Mikey leaned forward and pulled Tiller to him for a kiss. “I love you. Don’t ever make Raine space with me.”
“Mpfh,” Tiller grunted before turning back to the TV. I noticed he reached for Mikey’s hand and held it firmly as he went back to watching the game.