Page 19 of Two Canes, One Cup
“Stacy? Are you okay in there?” Reece’s deep voice bellows through the small cabin.
“Yes,” I say, although it comes out as a squeak.
The creaking of the hinges barely registers.
“Stacy?” He’s inside, not nearly as loud. “You might want to wake up, sweetie.”
Sweetie.
His cute little nickname sends a flare of warmth through me.
Why does he have to be so perfect? Actually, if I could just mash him and Dean into one man, that’d be my dream hunk.
Smart, sexy, and spoils merotten.
Tugging the thick comforter down, I try to muster some strength behind my voice. “I’m awake. I just don’t want to get up because it’s freezing.”
“You shouldn’t stay in bed. I’m pretty sure it’s below zero outside,” he grumbles, a low vibration that somehow works up through the frame.
Is that paper crinkling?
God, I’m awful. I think he’s starting the fire for me.
“We’ll get it heating up in no time.” He flicks the lighter, and I can hear the whoosh of flames.
The last thing I want to do is crawl out of the covers, but I am almost to the point of shivering.
“Do you want to come over for some coffee? I’ll make a fresh pot.” His boot props on the bottom stair, slightly shaking the handrail.
“I’d rather you come warm me up.”
Shit. I suck in a rapid inhale. Did I say that out loud? What the hell is wrong with me?
Suffocating silence is only broken by the crackling burn.
“I can if you really want me to,” he murmurs, almost so low I’m not sure I heard him correctly.
A jolt runs through me.
It’s the cold playing with me, right?
There’s a tremor through the loft as he rises another step. “Well? Are you gonna get up, or am I crawling in?”
Tucking the edge of the blanket under my chin, I peer over the edge to see his amber eyes just cresting the level of the floor.
“What about Dean?” I whisper.
Can this really be happening?
Reece’s crooked smile appears as he takes the next stair. “Oh, he’ll be jealous.”
Holy shit, I’m so tempted. Having a man like Reece even remotely interested in me was never on my Bingo card.
My hand trembles, tangled in the blanket. “I bet. You two are such a cute couple.”
His baritone laugh rumbles into my belly. “Stacy, we aren’t together. We’ve been best friends since middle school. But it’s just that. Friends.” He emphasizes the last word.
With another step, his chest and torso appear.
