Page 73 of Rising Heat

Tyler snorts.

“She walked into the middle of one.”

Outside, Boston is disappearing under snow. Inside, I’ve somehow ended up at their kitchen island before nine in the morning while Tyler makes breakfast and Mason brews me tea. The whole thing feels suspiciously comfortable.

“I’m not encouraging anyone,” I say, wrapping both hands around the cup. “I’m just deciding if I should be offended you’ve been living like this under me without warning.”

Tyler’s grin widens.

“That sounded dirtier than you meant it.”

I choke on a laugh.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

His certainty is annoying. So is his accuracy.

Tyler reaches up to grab the powdered sugar from the cabinet above the stove, his sweatshirt riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin and the sharp V disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts.

I immediately look away, eyes landing squarely on his toned thighs.

In my defense, there are currently very few safe places to look. It’s like being in a funhouse designed solely to test my self-control.

I take a very measured sip of tea and remind myself that objectifying my landlords during a weather emergency is probably frowned upon.

Then file the mental image away for a future self-care session with my wand anyway.

Mason slides a plate onto the island in front of me. Blueberry pancakes stacked high, butter melting into the seams, bacon still crackling faintly from the heat.

“Eat,” he says.

I arch a brow.

“Let me guess. That wasn’t a suggestion either.”

His eyes meet mine over the rim of his mug.

“No.”

Tyler, traitor that he is, looks between us and tries to hide a grin.

“Don’t mind him,” Tyler says. “Shoveling makes him crankier.”

“If you wait until after the storm, the snow freezes. You’ll be stuck for days.”

Tyler sets his own plate down and leans against the island, too restless to sit even in a blizzard.

“So,” I say, in between bites, “do you two do this a lot? Collect stranded tenants?”

“Just you, so far,” Tyler says.

“Lucky me.”

Mason’s mouth twitches before looking at Tyler.

“Depends who you ask.”