Page 23 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
Jake’s deep chuckle snapped his eyes open.
“You look very content.”
“I am.” It was the truth, plain and simple, yet it had little to do with the festive feast they’d shared, or the sweet alcohol. Jake was his contentment. “Thank you for this.” Ru gestured around at their decorations. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing anymore.”
“It’s not so bad.” Jake shifted, the movement bringing him even closer, his arm now pressed fully against Ru’s. “It’s different, doing it like this. Nothing gaudy or commercial about it, just simple and natural.”
“That’s the best kind of Christmas.” Ru fought to focus on Jake’s words, despite the distracting heat of the man’s body against his. “Without all the commercial pressure and forced cheer. Keeping it stripped back and acknowledging the light in the darkness. Like we are here, miles from anywhere with the storm raging outside. All the greenery, showing there’s life not just surviving but thriving in the depth of winter. Embracing the energy of the darkness whilst waiting for the return of spring, and the rebirth it brings.” He found himself leaning slightly into Jake’s solid warmth, drawn to him like a plant to sunlight.
Jake studied him with that direct gaze that made Ru’s pulse quicken, that made him feel both exposed and sheltered.
“You sound like you’ve given it some thought.” His voice held a rough quality, like gravel wrapped in velvet, that sent shivers down Ru’s spine.
“Art school. I had a professor who was obsessed with the symbolism of midwinter festivals across cultures. Some of it stuck, I suppose.”
Jake noddded. “The primitive aspects. Light, warmth, shelter against the elements. Connecting with the ancestors and the old gods, seeking their help to ensure survival. It’s what the midwinter rituals and celebrations were all about, before they got bent out of shape by the church.”
“Is that what Christmas means to you?” Ru asked, his voice softer, more intimate than intended.
The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted in that almost-smile Ru found increasingly addictive, that made him want to press his lips to it, to feel if it was as warm as it looked.
“Something like that.”
A sudden harder, more violent gust slammed against the window. Monty, dozing in front of the wood burner, jumped up and barked.
“Storm’s building again. We were lucky we were able to get out when we could.”
“Will we lose power?” Ru asked, finding himself leaning further into Jake’s warmth as if in anticipation of the cold.
Jake tilted his head in that way he did, Ru had noticed before, when he was assessing conditions or risks. “It’s possible, though the generatorshouldcut in if we do. But we’ve got the fire, either way. And plenty of emergency lighting if needed.”
There was a reassurance in his calm assessment that Ru found more than just comforting. Jake’s competence, his preparedness, his absolute confidence in his ability to handle whatever situation arose, all of it combined into something that made Ru feel safe and protected in a way he’d not experienced before. His throat thickened and a weight pushed against his chest.Better not get too used to it…
Jake poured them both another drink. Their hands touched again as Jake handed him the refilled glass, the brief contact sending a now-familiar jolt of awareness through Ru’s body. Did Jake feel it, too, or was it all him, imagining something that maybe existed only in his head?No.The charged atmosphere between them, the way the air itself seemed to thicken when their eyes met, he knew, in every bone in his body, he was imagining none of it.
“To a different and unexpected Christmas.” Ru raised his glass.
“An unexpected Christmas.”
Their gazes locked in the softly lit room. Ru’s fingers tightened around the glass as Jake set his own down. His breath stilled as Jake leant forward, his skin tingling with the anticipation.
Outside, the storm intensified, battering the old farmhouse. The fairy lights flickered once, twice—and plunged the room into blackness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only the orange flicker of the wood burner.
Jake exhaled a silent breath. Maybe it was for the best, stopping dead in its tracks something he should never have let happen, something that would have crossed a line he’d long ago drawn deep in the sand. Yet, in the sudden darkness, he licked his lips imagining not the taste of sloe gin, but of Ru’s mouth on his.
Beside him on the sofa, Jake felt Ru shift, sensed rather than saw him looking around.
“Will the generator kick in?”
“It’s fifty-fifty, to be honest. One of the parts decided to go on the blink, the day before you landed here, which makes it less reliable than it should be. I’ve ordered a replacement but Christmas and now the weather will delay it getting here. Fingers crossed the grid’s up and running soon, or?—”
“Or?”
“Or, it means camping indoors, cooking food on a Primus stove.”
