Page 38 of Huckleberry Hill
“Uh, hey.”
“Hi ya, bear snack.” His smirk widened.
“Aren’t you cold?” I blurted out.
“Hmm. Getting there. Come on in.”
“Oh, that’s not?—”
“You were pounding on my door, so clearly it was something important. Come in and I’ll get dressed.”
I wish you wouldn’t.
I scooped up the mug and followed Declan into the cabin, closing the door behind me. He turned and went toward the bedroom, giving me a view of his sculpted back and damp skin.
“I brought your mug,” I called out to him.
“Thanks. You can set it on the counter.”
I wandered farther into the cabin, noting the lack of clutter or personal belongings—no photographs, no knickknacks.
“So, I’m gonna go,” I said.
“Hang on, I’m almost done changing.”
“The chickens really need their breakfast.”
He popped out of the bedroom, buttoning up his flannel shirt. Declan was barefoot and for some reason I found that incredibly endearing.
“You’re going to the feed the chickens?” Declan asked.
I nodded.
“I’ll walk with you.”
“Why?” I asked with a frown.
“Why what?” Declan asked.
“Why do you want to walk with me?”
“Because we’re friends,” he said. “But I gotta say, the way you were looking at me, wasn’t a just friends look.”
“I didn’t expect you to answer the door in a towel.” My cheeks heated.
“It’s barely seven in the morning,” he said. “How did you expect me to answer the door?” When I didn’t reply, he went on, “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
“I slept fine.”
Nodding, he ducked back into the bedroom. “Socks.”
