Page 9 of Reindeer in the Headlights
“Nope. You’re my guest. Don’t help.”
“I’m pretty sure you just made that rule up.”
“It’s my cabin. I can do that.” And I’d make up as many as I needed if it meant he stayed off of his foot.
He seemed to think that was okay with that answer, and I cleaned up, wondering how I was going to get everything straightened out for him. The snow was coming down hardagain, and that meant the road was going to continue to stay closed. I knew that, and we’d already discussed it, but watching the storm continue had me realizing just how long that was going to take.
At least Wyndham was off work until New Year’s. We’d be cleared out by then… probably. No. We would. Only once had this road been closed for more than a week, and that was a full-on blizzard. This was just a major pain in the ass, nowhere close to blizzard levels.
I took out the pitcher of formula I’d made, poured it into a mug, and popped it into the microwave for fifteen seconds to take the chill off.
“Why is that milk oddly colored?”
“It’s the formula I made for the kittens. It looks gross, but they lapped it up last time.”
“I missed that.” He looked in the other room, presumably at the kittens. “I slept through a lot, huh?”
“You were out pretty hard, but it didn’t look like a good sleep. You still need more… a lot more.”
“I know. I’ll probably… just take a nap.”
“You sound hesitant about that,” I said. Now that he’d said it, I was holding him to it.
I filled two small plates with the cat milk, not wanting to use a bowl and having it to be too deep for the cuties, and set them on the floor. I went to call them. I didn’t need to. They were already there, racing toward their yums.
“They really do like it.” He laughed.
“I know. I made it, and I wouldn’t drink it. The article said it's good for them, so if they love it, let them have it.” I took a step away from them, the scent of their milky meal pretty gross. “Since you’ve already decided to take a nap, how about you get a shower first, and then you can get all snug and warm in bed?”
“Bed? No, the couch is fine.”
“We had this conversation last night. The couch is fine for me. The couch is not fine for your leg. We need to get you on the bed, get it propped up. On the couch, it’ll keep falling off the side, and the lower it is, the less circulation you’re getting.”
“But it’s your house.”
“And we’ve already established that I make the rules.” He wasn’t going to win on this one. The sooner he figured that out, the better. “I’ll go put some things in the bathroom for you, and if you need help, you can holler.”
“I think I’ll be okay on my own.”
I hoped he was right, but there was definitely hesitation in his voice.
I laid out a new towel, a toothbrush, and some soap for him. It was far from fancy, but it would do.
“Everything’s ready for you. The toothbrush is a pretty crappy one. I bought a package of them for cleaning. This one’s new, though.”
“No scrubbing toilets with it. Got it.” He chuckled.
“They aren’t for the toilet. I got them for grout, but yeah, no scrubbing grout with it.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He hobbled past me, not trying as hard to hide his pain as he did before. That was good. It meant he was trusting me, or starting to, anyway.
As he went into the bathroom, I went to the bedroom and rearranged the bed. I pulled out a few more quilts I had in storage, along with a couple of pillows. Last night we were barely surviving, but now I could adjust the space to meet his needs. By the time I was done, it looked like something out of one of those kitschy inns, but it wasn’t meant to be fancy or anything like that. It was to keep him comfortable while he slept. And this set-up would accomplish that.
He came out in a towel and looked so good that not staring was a struggle. I wasn’t like this. I wasn’t the alpha who walked around seeing hotty omegas and wanted to get in their pants. Heck, I wasn’t the guy who dated someone until I’d known them for a while, and I never had one-night stands. I had nothing against them it just wasn’t something I’d been interested in. But with this man, all bets were off. I wanted all of it except for the one-night part. That wouldn’t be enough with Wyndham. That much I was sure of.
Not that we could ever be anything. How could we? He was a city boy. I was decidingly not. And just because he smelled good and was kind and laughed at my bad jokes, that didn’t mean we had anything real in common. This was all situational, and I had to keep reminding myself of that fact, because if I didn’t, I was going to end up hurt.
“Let me grab your bag.”
