Page 7 of Reindeer in the Headlights
I’d have to get Ambrose to deal with their toileting because I wasn’t about to take them outside, not that they’d do anything out there in the cold. But I’d caught sight of a barn last night, so perhaps they could do their business there.
Limping into the main room, I found Ambrose at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a Christmas-themed apron tied around his hips. Sadly, he wasn’t naked, but wearing jeans and a different plaid shirt than last night. Watching him cook fueled the idea that he could pose for a magazine or get paid for an advertisement for eggs or bacon. Maybe coffee.
“Morning.” He glanced over his shoulder and licked his lips. He must have had butter or bacon fat on them. “How’s your ankle?”
“Better than last night, but it’s still not great.”
“I’ve got some more ibuprofen for you.”
I thanked him, and he pointed to the small dining table where a bottle of pills sat next to a glass of water. Making my way to thetable, I eased myself onto a chair and downed a pill, followed by sips of water.
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved.”
His face did something weird, and I hoped he wasn’t going to be sick. Having two invalids in an isolated cabin wasn’t ideal. The kittens couldn’t go for help or look after us. I mentioned my two furry friends, and he told me they’d already done their business. Not in the house I hoped.
I glanced around the cabin. It appeared larger in the morning sun, and the Christmas tree lights had been turned off. Through the kitchen window everything was blanketed in white. It was beautiful as long as you weren’t driving in it, traipsing over it with an injured leg, or looking for help with no access to a phone.
“I got your things from the car when I found the second kitten. There wasn’t much. Did you have an overnight bag? If so, that’s what I brought.” He nodded toward a corner where my bag and hideous Christmas sweater sat. Gods, I’d be happy if that sweater was buried under the snow and not be found until the spring.
“And I charged your phone.”
Great, I could make a call and get a tow truck, but the snow didn’t give me hope they’d come out here.
“How bad is the car?”
“It’s in the ditch as you said.” He ducked his head and peered outside. “But the storm’s passed, and a tow truck should make it out here this afternoon.”
A pang of disappointment gripped my chest. That was what I wanted, to get the ride to a garage and me home. But the news didn’t excite me. But he saidshouldwhen referring to the tow truck, and should carried a lot of weight. The truck might not make it. I held on to that while I figured out why I was disappointed.
I yanked the phone off the charger and pressed the power button. Nothing, not even a bleak beep. I tried again, but it wouldn’t turn on.
“It’s dead.” It might have been damaged in the crash, though it had been on before I got out of the car last night.
“Sorry about that.”
Huh. He didn’t sound in the least bit sorry. What was up with that?
“The phone died because it was commiserating with me after the accident.”
But it hadn’t turned out badly for me, because I was sitting in a warm kitchen about to eat breakfast and I’d become the proud papa of two little kitties.
“Breakfast’s ready.”
At the sound of his voice, the black kitten strolled into the room and wove between his legs.
“Hey, you already ate.”
I hadn’t thanked him for finding the second kitten. “That was kind of you to go out in that treacherous weather.”
“It was nothing.” He shrugged. “And it was worth it. You have a boy and a girl.”
His hands trembled just a tad before he continued dishing out the food. “I couldn’t allow you to feel guilty.”
Oh, so he had heard what I said. Hmmm, he must have excellent hearing.
He brought two plates to the table laden with scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, and toast. If this was what he ate every morning, he must’ve been a lumberjack, because this amount of food would fuel him chopping down trees.
