Page 24 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
“Oh. I was never a Boy Scout so I’m not prepared, and as for camping I’ve only ever stayed in a very luxurious yurt, orwigwam, or whatever it was.” Ru chuckled. Jake, though, could hear the undercurrent of tension in Ru’s voice, but it didn’t stop a delicious shiver from spiralling down Jake’s spine.
“I’ll check it in the morning. Not going out now, not in this weather. It might just need a bit of tinkering.” He cleared his rough, dry throat. “Stay put, I’ll get us some light.” He moved through the dark with ease; it wasn’t the first time the lights had gone out and would unlikely be the last.
In an old, battered copper box by the side of the fireplace, he retrieved a heavy and powerful emergency torch. The beam cut through the blackness as he switched it on, illuminating Ru’s face. In the stark light, his features looked sharper, his eyes wider, more vulnerable. Something protective stirred in Jake’s chest.
“I’ve got a supply of candles and lamps in the utility room?—”
“Can I help?” Ru started to rise.
“No,” Jake said, more quickly than he’d intended. He softened his voice. “The floors are uneven, so it’s easy to trip in the dark. I know where everything is. Stay by the fire. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Ru nodded, settling back down, and Jake felt a flicker of satisfaction at Ru’s easy acquiescence.
Outside, the storm howled, the wind rattling the windows with increasing fury as he collected what they needed. When he returned to the living room, Ru had added another log to the fire. The flames cast his profile in gold, highlighting the clean line of his jaw and the gentle curve of his mouth. Jake paused in the doorway, his chest tightening at the sight.
Jake lit the lamps, their warm glow spreading in widening circles. The familiar smell of paraffin reminded him of night operations, of desert camps and mountain outposts, where electricity was a luxury, not a given.
“Thought you’d have battery operated ones.”
“Batteries drain. Paraffin lamps are a better option.”
“Some of these are beautiful.” Ru reached for a brass lamp, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern etched into the metal. “It looks vintage.”
Jake nodded. “If by that, you mean old, yes it is. I found it and two or three others tucked away at the back of the attic when I bought this place.” He lit the candles and put them in clear glass jam jars, and placed them around the room.
As the candles flickered into life, joining forces with the lanterns, the room transformed. What had been cozy and comfortable under electric lamp light became something else entirely. Intimate, almost otherworldly, shadows danced across the walls, softening edges, creating pockets of warm light amid the darkness. The greenery they’d collected earlier gleamed under the muted gold candlelight, the holly berries glowing like tiny fragments of coal.
Jake turned to find Ru watching him, eyes reflecting the soft light. Something inside of Jake stirred, a recognition of how right Ru looked in his home, surrounded by light and shadow.
“It’s magical,” Ru said softly. “Like stepping back in time.”
Jake felt his mouth quirk in a smile that seemed to come more easily around Ru. “Practical, more like. But I’ll take magical if that’s what you see.”
He settled back on the sofa, closer to Ru than before the blackout, the shadowy light somehow making proximity feel both more natural and necessary. The storm rampaged outside, wind shrieking around the eaves, but in the warm living room, within the circle of flickering light, they were contained and protected. They were safe.
Jake reached for the bottle of sloe gin they’d been sharing earlier. “Another?” he asked, holding it up.
Ru nodded, and Jake topped up their glasses.
Their fingers brushed again as Jake handed Ru’s glass over, and even that brief contact set off a current, sparking over his skin. He’d been fighting this growing attraction since Ru arrived, but in the candlelight, with the storm pressing in on them, it was becoming harder to ignore.
Fuck, this wasn’t what he was looking for.
Not now, not ever. Not just a decision, but a vow he’d held tight for the last three years. Yet in just a couple of days, Ru had got under his skin and was shredding every piece of his resolve.
“Here’s to blackouts,” Ru said, raising his glass.
The gin was sweet-sharp on Jake’s tongue, warming his throat, but it wasn’t responsible for the heat spreading through his body.
Neither said anything as they sat close, every nerve in Jake’s body firing. He should move away, create distance. But he couldn’t. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. He ran a hand over his head. Jesus, this wasn’t what he wanted, he’d ordered himself to never want this ever again.
“I’m so glad I drove my disaster of a car from London,” Ru said, slowly, tentatively, as though picking his way through the words, “because if I hadn’t I would never have landed here. I kind of think my bad decision might have been one of the best I’ve ever made.”
The gentle light caught in his grey eyes, turning them to silver. Jake found himself staring, captivated by the way it softened Ru’s features whilst somehow making them more defined.
Ru’s gaze dropped to Jake’s mouth before returning to his eyes. The subtle movement released a flood of heat through Jake’s body, a visceral response he couldn’t, and no longer wanted to, control.
The space between them seemed to contract, the air thickening with possibility. Jake’s heart hammered harder thanthe storm. His skin tingled, every nerve ending alive with electricity as his body responded to cues he’d fought so hard to suppress.
