Page 15 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
Climbing out of bed, Ru stood at the window. The storm had exhausted itself, leaving behind a calm, white world that glittered in the pale morning light. Would that mean they couldmake plans to get him to Bobblecombe? Something twisted deep in Ru’s stomach. It had been where he’d set out for, so shouldn’t he be keen to arrive?
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Ru? You awake?”
“Yes,” he called back, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I’ll be down soon.”
“No rush, but coffee’s ready when you are.” Jake’s footsteps retreated along the hallway.
Ru tugged on his jeans and the navy jumper Jake had lent him the day before. It swamped him, but it was cosy and comfortable and carried a faint scent of woodsmoke and warm spice that Ru found oddly comforting.
Downstairs, he found Jake in the kitchen, nursing a mug of coffee while reviewing what looked like weather charts on a laptop.
“How come you’ve got internet? There was nothing on my phone.”
“I haven’t. This,” Jake nodded at the screen, “is via a satellite link.” Jake frowned. “Is there anybody you need to try and get in touch with? The phone function’s crap so I’m going to be getting updated kit in the new year, but you can send a quick email. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask. I only use this when I have to.”
Ru shook his head. “Not really. My friend, who owns the cottage, is away, so…”
Monty, stretched out at Jake’s feet, trotted over to Ru for morning scratches.
“Morning, gorgeous boy.” Ru bent to pet Monty. Leaving the dog wriggling around on the floor, he poured himself a coffee. Hugging it between both hands, he gazed out at the pristine world on the other side of the window.
“Storm’s passed,” he said, not turning around. “So I’m guessing we’ll be able to get to?—”
“Not a hope in hell. Even if we could get to the main road, the chances of it having been cleared are zero. And the storm’s not passed. It’s taking a breath, that’s all, gathering its strength for the next onslaught. You won’t be going any further than the farm.”
A tingle ran the length of Ru’s spine. Words he should be dismayed to hear. Words he wasn’t.
“So you’re still stuck with me. It is beautiful, though,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jake, still hunched over his laptop.
“Hmm?” Jake looked up, green eyes focusing on Ru with an intensity that sent a pulse of electricity rushing through him.
Ru cleared his throat. “The snow. It’s like something from a Christmas card.”
Jake’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to his screen. “Suppose it is.” His voice was low, the slight roughness in its timbre making Ru’s skin prickle with awareness.
Ru petted Monty some more, letting his hair flop forward, the perfect camouflage to study Jake.
Broad shoulders, and defined, but not bulging, biceps filled the plaid shirt he wore, the cuffs of which were folded back to reveal forearms that were covered with a light scattering of dark hair. His large hands moved with confidence over the keyboard. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, making Ru wonder how it would feel against his own skin.
Ru’s whole body twitched.Bloody hell. Wasn’t he supposed to be running from complications, rather than towards them?
“Speaking of Christmas,” Ru said, forcing himself to focus, shoving aside all those thoughts of skin on skin, “do you put up decorations, and a tree? It’s only a few days away.”
Jake looked up again, this time with a slight furrow between his brows. “Don’t really bother with all that.” Jake rolled hisshoulders, the movement stretching the shirt across his chest, drawing Ru’s eyes before he made himself to look away.
“At all?” Ru couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice, grateful for the distraction from his wayward thoughts.
Jake shrugged. “I’m usually working, running winter survival courses for those who really need to be equipped to handle bad weather, up until mid-December. Then, it’s essential maintenance. By the time Christmas actually arrives, I’m more interested in sleep than celebration.”
There was something in his tone, not quite defensive, but perhaps anticipating judgment, that made Ru tread carefully. “And this year? No courses because of the storm?”
“Not exactly.” Jake closed his laptop. He leant back in his chair, stretching again, the movement causing his shirt to ride up just enough to reveal a sliver of lightly tanned skin and taut muscle above his belt. Ru found himself transfixed by that small expanse of flesh, his mouth suddenly dry. “The client had to cancel. I was glad, to be honest. They wanted extreme, but the weather would have made it dangerous.”
Ru licked his lips. “Would you mind if we put up a few decorations?” he asked, surprising himself with the suggestion.
This was Jake’s home, and if he didn’t ‘do’ Christmas that was his choice, yet not marking the season in even the smallest, simplest way just felt sad. Despite everything he’d been through, and the crushing need to escape the festive overload in London, he’d bought a cheap box of fairy lights from a stacked display in a petrol station when he’d stopped to fill the tank. It was only when he was miles away that he remembered he’d forgotten to pick them up.
