Page 73 of Turn Up The Heat

Well, that shut him up.

Jackson laughed. “Well, y’all, I’m going to roll out of here. And I do mean that literally.” He rubbed a hand over his midsection, and Bellamy fought back the urge to snicker. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on him, but whatever floated his boat.

“Thanks again for letting me come over and test out the cookies,” Jackson said, tipping his blond crew cut in her direction. “They really are delicious.”

“Thanks for being my guinea pig.” She stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye, and after a hiccup of surprise, he enveloped her in a bear hug right back.

“Anytime. And I really do mean that, especially if you get some urge to go the oatmeal raisin route. They’re my favorite.”

When Shane had said Jackson was cool, he’d known what the hell he was talking about. They’d only spent a couple of hours hanging out in Shane’s cabin, but Bellamy had felt instant affection for the guy. It wasn’t every day you met a man whose pro-wrestler exterior covered up genuine down home charm.

“Duly noted.” She grinned, waving as Jackson slid into his jacket.

“See ya, dude,” he said to Shane, jerking his head in parting as he headed out the door.

“Jackson’s sweet,” Bellamy said, nibbling the edge of a cookie. Okay, theywerepretty good, brown sugar notwithstanding. She took another bite.

Shane laughed, pushing back from the table. “Yeah, he’s just sweet enough to get away with not doing any dishes,” he pointed out, gesturing to the kitchen.

It hadn’t been easy to make those cookies on one warped cookie sheet, and the aftermath clearly showed in the tiny space. Bellamy had managed to get flour and sugar all over the narrow counter, not to mention using every kitchen utensil Shane owned. All three of them. Thank God she’d snapped up some plastic measuring cups at Joe’s, but still. They added to the mess.

“Yeah, that’s my fault.” Bellamy chewed her lip and turned toward the sink, but Shane stopped her in her tracks.

“Where I come from, if you cook, you don’t clean.” He edged past her to snap up a dish towel, starting to swipe it over the flour-scattered countertop.

“And where I come from, we clean up our messes. Draw?”

His smirk lingered, weaving its way through her with sexy heat. “Draw.”

Bellamy ran a sink full of hot, soapy water and started to wash the sheet pan, and he whistled softly as he scrubbed the counter clean. It felt all too good to be standing there in the kitchen with Shane, even doing something as simple as everyday chores.

God, she didn’t want to leave.

“Thanks for showing me around Pine Mountain today. It’s really beautiful up here.”

“I’m glad you finally got to have one of Lou’s burgers,” Shane said, stacking the dirty dishes he’d collected next to the sink.

Bellamy groaned in pleasure at the memory. “The man knows his way around the grill, I’ll tell you that.” Even the fries had been perfect—not too thick or greasy, just perfect for dipping. She rinsed the cookie sheet, brain still stuck on her fantastic lunch.

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing we took that hike afterwards, otherwise I’d have been in a food coma all damned day.” Shane laughed. “The loop behind the cabin is nicer than the cleared trails by the resort, but with all the snow still on the ground, we’d never have made it.” He took the cookie sheet Bellamy passed his way and began to dry it.

She smiled into the sink, continuing to wash the dishes while Shane dried. “The Ridge was still my favorite part, though.” They’d both been surprised to see that the path to Carrington Ridge had been cleared, probably by some locals wanting to see the sunrise over the snowy mountains. Wrapped in blankets and passing a Thermos of coffee back and forth, Bellamy and Shane had snuggled in the bed of the truck and enjoyed the gorgeous view, talking and laughing until their fingers were numb. Every minute had felt seamless and perfect, and it just hammered home Bellamy’s completely unrealistic desire to stay right where she was.

“Yeah, me too. Not a whole lot of people get to see the mountain the way you did today.” Shane slid open the lone kitchen drawer, its occupants giving a metallic clank as he tossed in one of their freshly cleaned friends.

“I just hope I can return the favor next weekend. You’ve probably seen all the touristy stuff in Philly, though,” she replied, thinking out loud. Shane didn’t really seem like a Liberty Bell kind of guy anyhow.

He stiffened, then shifted his weight as if he didn’t want her to notice. “Yeah.”

Bellamy’s heartbeat stuttered. The air around her felt thicker somehow, but she hauled in a breath of it anyway. “Shane, what’s going on?” Damn it, she really needed to get a handle on her lack of brain-to-mouth filter, but something just wasn’t right here and she just couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“You’re woefully behind on your dishwashing, that’s what.” He cocked his head and gave her a smile.

Something twisted deep in her ribcage, telling her not to be distracted, but the heat between her thighs begged her to shut up. So he had some mysterious aversion to the city. It’s not like that was a shocker—he’d told her about it days ago. Plus, he’d said he would come see her regardless, and Shane wouldn’t lie to her. Pushing him to talk about it would only sour their evening, and it was one of the last ones they had left together. For now anyway.

“I guess I am,” she finally agreed, letting her hands slip into the water.

Shane moved behind her, the combination of his heat and his touch making her forget about the sink full of kitchenware in need of washing.

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