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He nodded.
“I want a more peaceful lifestyle. I’d like a chance for my customers to become my friends. I want to have days like this where I can actually leave when the baking is done and spend time with someone I…” I cleared my throat. “Like.”
Miller’s shy smile was worth the awkwardness I felt.
“I’d like that… that kind of lifestyle too,” Miller admitted. “I’ve thought about opening my own marketing consulting company and pitching marketing services to local businesses in Monterey. Creating websites, enabling online ordering for shops like yours, proposing multimedia campaigns that pair the right kind of marketing with their product lines, and maybe even dabbling in some branding and graphic design consulting.”
I didn’t want to blurt out the suggestion of him doing all of that here in Aster Valley, but it was hard to keep the thought to myself. “You could always rent one of those shared workspaces so you weren’t so isolated,” I suggested.
We continued to talk through ideas until I pulled into my driveway. Miller’s voice trailed off when he noticed my house.
“Is this yours?” he asked in awe.
I looked at the mountainside property with pride. The glass-and-steel structure didn’t leave much in the way of privacy, but since it was situated in the middle of eighteen acres, the neighbors were hidden behind plenty of trees.
“I originally had it built as a vacation home but then fell in love with it and decided to move here full-time.”
“It’s incredible. The views… Can I see inside?”
I wanted to laugh with abandon. Miller Hobbs was inviting himself into my house? Yes, please. “Of course. Come on in and let’s get you warmed up.”
After opening the door and ushering him into the main living area that was a large open space with expansive views of Aster Valley and the entire Rockley basin, Miller did what everyone did when they first came inside. He walked straight to the wall of windows and stood gaping. “Just the other day I was wondering what the view looked like from these houses. It’s even more stunning than I expected. No wonder you decided to move here.”
I came up behind him and reached for his coat, peeling it back before grabbing the warm hat off his head. “Have a seat. That sofa there has the best view, and it’s close to the fireplace.”
After hanging our coats up, I lit the fire and stayed long enough to make sure it was going to turn into a sufficient blaze to keep him toasty. “How about some hot chocolate or tea?”
“I’d love some hot chocolate if you have it. Can I help in the kitchen?”
“Not necessary. I’ll have it ready in a minute. Just relax.”
I turned on some soft instrumental music on the house sound system and busied myself with making us a tray of drinks and snacks. When I brought it over to him, I noticed his eyelids drooping. He’d curled up in the corner of the sofa and pulled a blanket over his legs. I loved seeing that he’d made himself comfortable in my home without me having to say anything. It had to be a testament to how easy and relaxed he felt in my presence.
I kept the conversation to a minimum as we ate and drank so as to let him nod off after we finished. Sure enough, his eyes drooped while he was still holding his mug, and I had to lunge forward to keep it from spilling onto the rug.
For the next two hours, I was able to look my fill of his beautiful face and revel in the knowledge he was safe and sound, here with me. In an effort to avoid the temptation of snuggling him without his consent, I busied myself in the kitchen, where I could keep an eye on him across the open floor plan while I made the baklava I’d promised him.
I made enough to feed an army since that was exactly what Mikey and Tiller had over there. When I packaged it up, I made sure to put a good amount into its own box just for Simone. When I finished the baklava, I started on avgolemono soup with some leftover rotisserie chicken and homemade chicken stock I had in the freezer. Even though I knew Mikey would provide more than enough food for everyone over at the lodge, I still needed to send Miller home with something I’d made especially for him.
It was a family thing. My yaya had never let a guest leave with empty hands, and I found myself doing the same as I got older. Food was my family’s expression of love.
When Miller finally started waking up, I moved back over to the sofa and knelt on the floor next to him. His face was pink and smooth from sleeping close to the fire, and a rogue blonde wave went the wrong way on the side of his head that had been pressed against a throw pillow. I reached out to smooth it down.
