by Ofelia Grand
“I would’ve reminded you earlier, but your phone isn’t working.”
He sighed. Right, the phone. “It took a dive into the river.”
“You seriously walked out on the ice for him?” Joslyn narrowed her eyes. “Are you out of your mind? You could have died!”
“Shh.” Otho glanced toward the living room.
“Oh, come on, he’s heard every word we’ve been saying. Your house is tiny, remember?”
A second later, Mason appeared in the doorway.
* * * *
Mason wasn’t sure he liked Joslyn much, and he almost wished he’d come here for Otho just to prove her wrong. Heck, if he’d known Otho existed, he might have…one day. He shouldn’t eavesdrop but listening to their conversation gave him more clues about Otho than anything else had so far. And now he knew he liked cute guys. Too bad Mason wasn’t a cute guy. He was an ordinary guy, an average looking guy, a guy other men, as Joslyn put it, took advantage of.
With a groan, he got to his feet. He wouldn’t have come for Otho, he lacked the confidence to do something like that, but he could stop Joslyn from making Otho feel bad for being nice.
His body had thawed some and his muscles obeyed him. With a shiver, he dropped the blanket on the sofa and headed toward the kitchen. The view greeting him robbed him of words. The kitchen was small, but there was food everywhere. Christmas dinner.
Mason’s stomach rumbled. God, when had he last eaten? And when had he last had homemade food? Joel didn’t cook and Mason all but set fire to water any time he tried.
“Where’s your blanket?” Otho hurried over to him, gently guiding him to the unoccupied chair next to Joslyn. “Sit, I’ll go get it.”
Mason grabbed his hand. “I’m fine, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense, you need to stay warm.” He rushed out of the kitchen before Mason had the chance to say anything else.
Joslyn grinned at him, her expression a stark contrast to the harsh words she’d dealt Otho. “If you cherish your freedom you should run now, because he’ll never let you out of his sight if you don’t.”
Mason snorted. “He’s being nice.”
She nodded and sipped on her wine. “That’s Otho—nice, warm, caretaking, self-sacrificing.” All humor left her face as she hissed, “And if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down and kill you, are we clear?”
Mason stared. Was she serious? She looked serious.
“Here you go.” Otho wrapped a thick fleece in light gray with white snowflakes around his shoulders. “More hot chocolate?” He smiled, his blue eyes warm again and Mason could breathe a little easier.
“I’m fine, thank you. You want me to help with anything?”
Otho waved a hand. “No, no, you sit. I’d give you a glass of wine, but the paramedics said no alcohol.”
“So, you’re staying the night here?” Joslyn twirled her glass and gave Mason an innocent look. He glanced at Otho. Should he leave?
“Of course, he is, Lyn! The man almost died.”
“True, I just figured since he has a pricey room at the resort…” She shrugged.
Perhaps he should leave.
“He’s staying. What if he gets worse? Hypothermia is serious business.” Otho didn’t look at them, but his voice was determined, and Mason relaxed. He didn’t want to go back to the resort…ever. It reminded him of his life back home, or the life he no longer had back home.
Joslyn rolled her eyes but kept quiet. Mason watched as Otho moved around the kitchen with a confidence that made his chest warm. Strong hands peeling, chopping, mixing. Muscles playing under his skin as he lifted sheets and ovenware. Who’d known cooking could be hot?
“So, are you expecting more guests?” Mason watched as the counter filled up with plates and bowls. Both Joslyn and Otho turned to him.
“Cooking is therapy for Otho.”
“It’s not.” Otho grabbed three plates out of the cupboard and put them on the small kitchen island. “It’s Christmas, there should be a lot of food…and I enjoy cooking, okay? It’s not a crime, is it?”
The scents had Mason’s mouth watering. “You can cook for me any day.” He blushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“Don’t say that!” Joslyn slapped his arm. “Now he’ll feed you to death.”
“There are worse ways to go.” Mason shivered, remembering the cold water, the sound of the ice breaking.
Otho grinned and handed Mason a platter of smoked salmon canapés. “Dig in.”
* * * *
The next day, Mason woke to the sound of Otho humming along with the Christmas carols on the radio in the kitchen. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa after dinner and hadn’t stirred once during the night, not that he could remember at least.
He bit back a groan as he sat. His muscles were aching and, despite Otho having lit a fire, he was freezing.
“Oh, you’re up.” Otho grinned at him from the kitchen door. “You want your eggs hard-boiled or gooey?”
“Gooey?”
“Oh, better get them then.” He started to turn.
“No! No, I don’t want anything gooey, I just…My brain hasn’t woken up yet.” Otho was making breakfast and here he was snoring away on his sofa.
“It’s okay. Take a shower if you want, it’ll be a few minutes before this is done.” The humming began again, and Mason slumped back on the sofa—he could get used to this. But that wouldn’t make him any better than Joel.
Flinging off the cover, he stumbled to the shower. He’d have to repay Otho for putting up with him. He might like to cook, but food costs money and, right now, Mason couldn’t pay his part.
Allowing himself a few moments of simply standing in the warm spray of the shower, he tried to come up with a plan. Getting drunk had been so stupid. He needed to sort things out, not make them worse.
Grabbing a clean towel from a corner shelf that had to have been custom made, he dried off and put on the same clothes he’d worn before. As he entered the kitchen, Otho nodded toward the chair Mason had been sitting on the night before. “Coffee?”
“Could kill for a cup, do you think it’s allowed?”
“Killing is never allowed.” Otho smiled and poured him a cup of coffee. The table was filled with plates with cold cuts, eggs, bread, cheese, and three different jams. Mason had a feeling the breakfast here was better than at the resort.
“Do you always have this much food?”
Otho grinned. “I like food.” He patted his stomach. “You can probably tell.”
Mason shook his head. He’d seen Otho without a shirt and he was fitter than Mason…much fitter.
Mason had never been fast, had never been strong. He’d been one of those geeky guys in school who sucked at sports and it wasn’t something he’d grown out of.
“So…what do you do, Otho?” He began filling his plate with food.
“I work at the resort.”
“Ah, you’re a chef. That explains the luxurious meals.” Mason grinned at him and took a bite of toast, but Otho didn’t grin back.
“No, I’m the maintenance man, one of the maintenance men.” Was that bitterness? Otho wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he’d stiffened as if he waited for a cutting remark.
The bite of toast almost stuck in Mason’s throat and he had to take a sip of coffee before he could speak. “You never wanted to work in a kitchen?”
Otho shrugged. “I didn’t do well in school.” The smile was tense.
“You don’t have to go to school to cook.” Though Mason knew he probably would have to go to some form of school before any restaurant would hire him.
“It’s okay. I’m happy working my hours and then go home here and cook for Joslyn and me. We have a good life, a calm, quiet life.”
Mason nodded, not wanting to scratch on anything that wasn’t his business.
“Oh, don’t look so sad. I’m serious, I’m happy.”
Mason nodded again. “Joslyn doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
&nb
sp; “Nah, she was married for a short while.” Something hard took over Otho’s eyes. “It didn’t work out.”
He shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t…“But what if she meets someone new? What will you do then?”
Otho frowned at him. “You mean who will I cook for then? Hopefully both of them.”
Mason smiled. It wasn’t what he’d meant, but he wouldn’t point out to Otho that his life sounded lonely, especially not when Mason had tried to cure lonely by being in a relationship with someone like Joel.
“I need to drive into Northfield to the grocery store. Do you want to come?” Otho looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup.
Mason tried to read the look. Was this his cue to leave? Probably. His heart began banging in his chest. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to be alone in his room at the resort. “I’ll come with you.” He didn’t dare look at Otho to see if it was okay. “I need some clothes, though.”
Otho’s face was set in a neutral expression. He should have said he’d go back to his room. Mason held his breath as he waited for Otho to give him another hint.
“You can borrow something…or we can go over to the resort or we can pick something up in Northfield. They don’t have many stores, but there are a few.”
Mason didn’t want to go back to the resort, what if Otho made him stay once they’d gone over there? But he had no money to buy new clothes. “Great.” He forced himself to smile.
* * * *
Otho tried not to grin at Mason as he pulled at the dark blue sweats. “I can’t go into a city dressed like this.”
“Northfield isn’t a city, it’s more like a town a little bigger than this. No one will care.”
“No.” He sighed. “Let’s just go to the resort.” The gaze he sent Otho was pleading, but he didn’t think it was a plea to go to the resort.
“Mason.” He reached for his hand. “No one will care.” And Otho enjoyed seeing him in his clothes.
“I don’t want to look like a slob.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to go to the resort.”
“Okay.”
Mason made a frustrated sound. “You’ll be embarrassed walking next to me.”
Otho frowned. Were they still talking about clothes? “Do you want me to head over to the resort and get you some clothes?”
Mason shook his head, looking ready to burst into tears. What the hell was going on? Perhaps it was too early for him to be out and about, he had almost drowned yesterday. “Do you want to stay here while I shop?”
Another headshake.
“Are you sure?” Otho stroke his thumb over the back of Mason’s hand. “It’s okay if you want to stay indoors, snuggle up on the sofa, and watch a movie or something.” Otho wouldn’t mind coming home to a house that wasn’t empty.
“No, I’ll go with you.”
“Okay.” He reluctantly let go of Mason’s hand. It wasn’t until they were in the car that he realized he was doing it again—bringing a man home and then expecting him to never leave. Had Mason wanted to go back to the resort? Should he have demanded Mason leave while he went shopping and maybe suggest they could see each other later?
But they hadn’t slept together, hadn’t even slept in the same room, so surely this wasn’t like one of those mornings when the guy he’d been with wanted to escape as soon as possible.
“What are you thinking about?”
He glanced at Mason who was frowning at him. “I was just…did you want to have breakfast at the resort? You could’ve said so, I wouldn’t have been…” Disappointed? But he would have been. Otho sucked at playing dating games. This isn’t a date. He had to remember that. He’d fished Mason out of the river and now he was acting like a schoolgirl. Joslyn would have his balls if she saw him.
“God, no. Have you been to the resort?”
Otho raised an eyebrow. “I work there.”
Mason’s chuckle had his muscles relaxing. “I’m sure their breakfast is lovely, but I enjoyed breakfast at your place. Thank you.”
Otho focused on the snow-covered road but couldn’t keep the grin off his lips.
“It’s really isolated out here.” Mason was staring at the pine trees on the side of the road.
“It’s far to any bigger cities, but it’s not that isolated. There are cabins in these forests and little villages here and there.”
Mason nodded. “Quiet.”
“Yeah. Though living next door to a resort, it’s not always that quiet.” Especially not when people were walking on the ice of the river.
“Perhaps you have it all figured out. Maybe I should move to a place like Snowmelt. Hard to get in trouble, right?” There was hurt in his eyes. “I probably should take after my elders…” Mason grinned teasingly at him.
“Hey, I’m not that old.” He probably was though. How old could Mason be? Twenty-five? He almost winced. Was he turning into one of those pathetic men who chased after people fifteen years younger than himself, not realizing his advances weren’t welcome?
“You’re a perfect age.”
“For what?”
Mason just grinned, and it had a flutter spreading in Otho’s belly.
They drove in silence for a couple of minutes before Mason began drumming his thumb on his thigh. “Do they have a bank in Northfield?”
Otho nodded. “Don’t know if it’s open today since it’s Christmas tomorrow, but we can check.”
Mason pursed his lips. “I need a new bank account, a new car, a place to stay, and a story that my mother will believe.”
“She won’t believe the truth?”
A flush spread on Mason’s cheeks. “Oh, she’ll believe the truth and then she’ll tear up heaven and earth demanding justice.”
Otho thought that would be all right. If Mason’s ex had done him wrong, who wouldn’t want justice? “Why is that bad?” If Otho had a mother who’d cared about his wellbeing, he’d consider himself a lucky man. Though he had Joslyn, and that was just as good.
“I don’t want them to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I was stupid. No one in my family liked Joel, my brother even begged me to end it, but I was stubborn.”
“Because you love him.” Damn, Otho didn’t want to think about Mason loving another man.
Silence filled the car. “That’s the thing. I never did. I was attracted to him, I won’t deny that, but it was more…someone wanted me.” Mason rapped his knuckles on his chest. “Me. He wanted me.”
“Of course, he did.” Otho chanced a glance away from the road again. “Who wouldn’t want you?”
Mason stared. “No one, and now…” He sighed. “It’s even more embarrassing now when it’s obvious Joel didn’t want me. He wanted my money. And I didn’t even have much.”
Otho didn’t know what to say. Everything he came up with either sounded as if he wanted to get into Mason’s pants or that he was trying to make what had happened less significant than it was.
“So, I need to fix this, and I need to fix it fast, starting with a new bank account and a place to live.” Mason nodded, not looking at Otho, and Otho said nothing—didn’t suggest Mason should move in with him, even though he wanted to. It would make Joslyn throw a fit.
He took a right turn and the first houses of Northfield came into view.
“Oh, this is cute.” Mason grinned at him.
“I don’t know about cute, but it has a bank, a post office, even a health center where the hot doctor Ash is working.”
“The hot doctor Ash?”
Otho shrugged. “I’ve never seen him, but rumors fly.”
Mason laughed. “There’s a hot doctor in the middle of nowhere? I bet the women around here have a lot of aches and pains.”
“Oh no, not the women.” Otho turned in on the parking outside the grocery store.
“There is a gay doctor, one that’s hot?”
Otho nodded. “It’s what I’ve heard.”
�
��Maybe I should try skiing after all if he’s the one who’ll help me when I come in with broken bones.” The sparkle in Mason’s hazel eyes made Otho grin. He’d be all right. Otho might mope for a while when he left, but Mason would come out of this all right.
* * * *
Mason slumped down on the sofa in Otho’s living room. He stared at the lights in the Christmas tree, blinking when they began to blur. “Gods, I’m exhausted.”
The trip to Northfield had taken most of the day. The bank had been open, and he now had a new bank account and had been removed from the joint account he’d had with Joel. It was silly, but just knowing no one had access to the account made it a little easier to breathe despite the balance being zero.
As soon as the holidays were over and he knew where he’d be living, he’d have to change his address. For now he’d given the bank the address to the apartment he’d be leaving in a week.
“Perhaps you should’ve stayed at home.” Otho sat down next to him, the bags of groceries still unpacked on the kitchen table. “It was only yesterday you took a swim in the river.”
Mason pushed at his shoulder. “You got cold too.” He moved closer, glancing at Otho as he did. Would he move away if he got too close? Joel never wanted to touch unless they were having sex and even that hadn’t been often.
Reaching out, Mason touched Otho’s cheek. “You even had ice in your beard.”
Otho leaned closer. “You had ice in your eyelashes.”
Time slowed and Mason forgot how to breathe when Otho wet his lips. He met Otho’s gaze, there was a burning intensity there.
“Perhaps I should…” Otho gave a small nod toward the kitchen. “…the groceries.”
Mason nodded, but when Otho began to rise, Mason put his hand on his shoulder. Before he lost his nerve, he touched his lips to Otho’s, just a fleeting kiss that didn’t have to mean more than a “thank you for saving my life”…unless Otho wanted more. If he wanted more…He chanced a glance at Otho. There was a slight flush on his cheeks and the heat in his eyes made Mason bolder. “Or perhaps the groceries can wait a minute or two?” He leaned in for another kiss, Otho meeting him halfway.
Need skidded over his skin when Otho deepened the kiss, his arm wound around Mason’s waist, pulling him closer.