Melt by Cari Quinn

in his backyard. Or what
she assumed was his backyard, because snow obscured everything. “Holy fuck!
There must be three feet out there.”
    “Only two.”
    “Did you get out your ruler?”
    “Nah. We have this nifty thing now called the news.” The
smirk in his voice would’ve made her jab her knuckles in his ribs if she hadn’t
been so focused on the trees beyond his yard. The woods were right behind his
house, bisected by the trail that even now a few diehard snowmobilers were
trying to traverse. She and Rob lived—had lived—less than a mile away on the
other side of the trail.
    “Sausage link for your thoughts.”
    She glanced up to see a gleaming brown piece of meat dangling
from a fork just above her lips. She took the bite gratefully, swallowing and
groaning simultaneously. “Damn, Norton, you cook like a chef too? Why don’t I
just have your babies and live in sin with you for the rest of my life?”
    “Why don’t you?” He replaced the fork with his mouth, and
his free hand slid under his baggy T-shirt to cup her breast. “I’d happily keep
you barefoot and pregnant.”
    Kylie bit his tongue playfully and pulled away. It was just
a joke, just as her comment had been. “I’m only barefoot because you don’t have
any socks.”
    “I have socks. They’re in the laundry room with your clothes
from last night.” He slid his feet under hers, and she laughed as he curled his
toes under her arches. “Part of my diabolical plan to remove all clothes from
the house so you have no choice but to wander around naked.”
    “Oh, is that it? Shoulda clued me
in. I don’t mind being naked all that much.”
    He nuzzled her neck, running that damned ball stud on his
tongue up and down the column of her throat. “Tease.” The hand on her breast
pinched her nipple. “So about those thoughts…”
    A bit distracted by his dual assault, she tipped her head to
give him more access. “We live on the other side of the trail. So we’re
neighbors. Sort of.”
    He didn’t answer for a long moment, and his fingers stilled.
“You mean used to live. You’re not going back there.”
    His tone smacked a little too much of possession for her
taste. “I hadn’t planned on it, no,” she said, trying not to sound as annoyed
as she felt. Jeez, let a guy put his
hands on your body, and next thing you know, he acts like he owns you . “I
have to get my stuff, but—”
    “I’ll get it for you.”
    “Oh no, you won’t.” Kylie shifted out of his embrace and
stalked over to the back door. She gazed out the pane of glass, surprised to
see a ball of gold fluff sitting on the top step, lapping from a blue bowl of
milk.
    Justin joined her and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“That’s Cody. I feed him outside because he won’t come in the house. He enjoys
his freedom.”
    “Even in this much snow?”
    “Some things won’t be caged.” He shrugged and met her gaze
when she risked a sideways glance at him. “I’m okay with giving space.”
    Because she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the cat or
her, she bit her lip and stayed silent.
    After a minute he went back to the stove. She heard him
chopping and dicing and the sizzle of oil. The scents of ham and green pepper
filled the air. But she didn’t look back at him, and she didn’t make
conversation. She gnawed on her ragged thumbnail and watched Cody, at least
until a ding from the countertop took
her attention.
    “Get that, would you?”
    “Uh, sure.” She walked over to the stainless steel box with
the glowing red light on top. Seeing no Off button, she unplugged it from the
wall and tried to figure out how to lift the lid. Once she’d slipped a nail
under the front latch, she raised the top and sucked in a hot, yeasty breath.
“Bread.” Her eyes actually watered as she glimpsed the thick, dark loaf. “Oh
God, you made bread.”
    “Pumpernickel. Goes well with the sausage and omelets. Which
are ready, by the way. Plates are in the cupboard above