Page 15 of Two Canes, One Cup
“Anytime.” I give her another quick wink, then leave.
Although it’s tempting as hell to stay for another embrace. Maybe a kiss.
Maybe a baby.
Walking on thin ice with that train of thought.
“How’d it go?” Dean asks from the kitchen.
The heady smell of meat and potatoes steams from a pot hanging near the fire.
“Fine. Got her blazin’,” I chuckle and shed my coat.
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
I kick off my boots and pad to the sink to wash my hands. “She gave me a hug.” I drop my voice, taunting him.
His teeth grind, but he doesn’t say anything.
Yet his knife slicing through the tomatoes for a salad lands just a little harder onto the cutting board.
Freezing water numbs my fingers as I wash them. “Crap. I never thought about the hot water. At least the spigot works.”
Dean glances at me, then back to the food. “It’s spring fed, remember? You’re the one who told me about that as a selling point.”
“Still gonna make a mighty fucking cold shower.” After drying my hands, I stuff my palms under my arms to warm them up.
“Maybe you need one,” he grumbles, then scoops the tiny red cubes into the wood bowl.
“Jealous, hubby?” I jokingly smack his ass making him jump.
His glower makes me laugh so hard I almost lose my breath.
“You know—” His finger waves in a tight circle at me. “—that’s likely the only reason she’d even touch you. Shethinksyou’re safe.”
“Ouch.” I grip my chest, then grab the handle in the pot to stir the luscious stew he’s started. “She’s always safe with me.”
His eye roll is almost audible.
Wait, it was a knock at the door.
Dean beats me to it.
“I see how it is,” I whisper as he opens it.
With a haughty smirk, he opens it for Stacy.
“Hi, neighbor. Please, come in.” He swings his hand out in a grand gesture and backs out of her way.
“Oh my gosh, it smells amazing in here.” Her big blue eyes widen as she unbuttons her coat.
“Let me,” Dean says softly, holding the collar to let her pull her arms free.
“You’re very kind.” Her words are so low I can barely hear them.
After dragging a few more coals under the simmering cookpot, I work my way into the kitchen while Dean follows her from the entryway.
“Drink? We have a full bar.” I grab a glass, poised on her answer.
