Chapter 5
OLLIE
I ordered fried mushrooms, loaded potato skins, and cheese curds to go with Blake's meatless nachos. He'd said no meat but nothing about cheese, so I hoped I didn't gross him out.
The lodge's restaurant staff were quick to answer the phone and even faster to bring us our food. Before Blake finished showering, a sharp knock at the door drew me from the bedroom.
Warring scents of Blake's arousal and our food waiting on the porch pulled my bear and me in two different directions. My bear wanted to join Blake in the shower, of course. As wonderful as he smelled, I wasn't the kind of guy who barged into shared bathrooms to offer my services.
Another sharp knock let me know the delivery person wouldn't drop and flee. I grabbed a twenty from my wallet and ventured onto the porch.
Instead of a person, I found our bag of appetizers and two black walnut shells. I walked to the end of the porch, sniffing, but the delicious food smells drew me back to the bag. If the restaurant had a tip jar, I would drop the twenty in it the next time I went to the lodge.
The porch was ice cold, but the food inside the recycled paper containers was piping hot. Some of the cold air followed me inside. I rolled the top of the bag to hold the heat in and set it on the counter between the kitchen and living room.
The cabin had central heat, but the bedroom and bathroom were much warmer than the main room, with its high ceiling and no inner walls to stuff with insulation.
Without blankets, Blake would get cold fast. I flipped the flue open and added some kindling to the fireplace.
In a kitchen drawer, I found a long-necked lighter, but no paper.
I returned to the desk. Most places I'd stayed had stationery or sticky notes, but not this one.
My gaze landed on a notebook on the loveseat. Blake wouldn't mind if I removed a page, would he? It was a fancy bound journal, not a spiral notebook like mine, which I left at home because no way would I waste my vacation by writing my thoughts. I would write about it once I was home.
As carefully as I could, I removed a page from the back of the notebook, tearing it along the crease until it pulled free.
Elated, I balled it up, flicked the safety on the lighter, and pulled the trigger.
Blue flames raced over the paper, quickly turning orange as it burned.
I tucked it into the kindling above the two small logs and watched it burn for a few moments.
The kindling lit up nicely, and then a log caught fire, too.
I returned to the journal, flipping it back the way Blake had left it on the loveseat. A page with rows of tight black script etched across it slipped out the front. I picked it up, staring at it in disbelief. How had I torn a page from the front of the book?
The door to the bathroom creaked open, startling me so much I dropped the journal on the loveseat. A corner of the loose page folded in on itself. Shit, shit, shit.
"Hi." I backed away from the loveseat.
Blake looked damn good in my clothes. He'd tied the t-shirt into a knot at his side above his waist, displaying inches of smooth tan skin.
Below that, the loose sweatpants made his bulge even more pronounced.
When he followed his nose to the food on the counter, I couldn't stop staring at the fabric hugging his peachy-perfect ass.
"This smells divine," he said. "What did you get?"
I rattled off my list of appetizers before swallowing hard. I had to tell him.
"Um, Blake?"
"Yeah?" Paper crinkled as he unwrapped our food bag and placed the containers on the counter.
"I tore a piece of paper from the back of your journal to light the fire."
He nodded toward the blazing fireplace with a grin. "Yeah, thanks! That's cool. It's a new journal. It's not like I'll use all the pages on this trip."
"I broke it."
He frowned. "It's a journal. How did you break it?" He followed my gaze to the loveseat, where the incriminating paper lay twisted and crumpled.
He rushed over to examine it, his finger tracing along the dogeared page. "Yeah, okay, you broke it." His next breath sounded more like a sigh.
"I'll buy you a new one. The town's not far from here. I'll call a cab in the morning and—"
"It's all right."
Except it wasn't all right. He squinted his eyes shut and huffed when the first of his tears cascaded down his cheeks. "Fuck."
I moved without thinking, shoving the loveseat aside and wrapping my arms around Blake. "I'm so sorry."
"It was my last gift from my mom."
For a man who was angry at me, he tucked his head against my chest like he wanted to live there. I wanted that too. It felt wonderful to be held by someone who wasn't family, though I felt responsible for making him cry.
"Is she …"
"My parents died in March." He sobbed harder into my shirt. "Car crash on the way home from visiting me for my birthday."
"I'm so sorry." I sounded like a broken record.
"It's not your fault."
I kissed his temple. "It's not yours, either. You know that, right?"
His head snapped up. "Why would it be my fault?"
Shit. I didn't mean to make it worse. "They were visiting you?"
"Is that why my sister won't speak to me?" He dropped his head back to my shoulder and squeezed so hard my ribs popped. "She thinks it's my fault! Everyone thinks it's my fault."
"I doubt that—"
"You don't even know me, and you think it's my fault!"
"I don't." I cupped the back of his head where it rested on my shoulder, and his undercut stubble tickled against my palm. "You've had a rough day, and maybe a rough year since your parents died."
He sniffled. "So?"
"Give yourself a break tonight. Let's get you fed, and then I want to show you something."
I gave his shoulders another squeeze and let go, though my bear wanted to settle him in my lap on the loveseat while we ate. Instead, I returned to our food on the counter, and he hustled to the bathroom, wiping his eyes.
The kitchen had a dining set with four place settings, including silverware. I grabbed two forks from the drawer and handed one to Blake. Even with puffy eyes and a red nose, he was still the most attractive omega I'd ever seen. It was hard not to stare.
We both leaned over the countertop, but then Blake bumped his knee on something when he took his first bite. He laughed, cupping his hand over his mouth. With a loud scrape of wooden legs across the hardwood floor, he pulled out a stool and sat down.
"This is delicious," he said when he'd finished his mouthful.
I fished another stool from beneath the countertop and carefully balanced my ass on it.
"Want to try?" Blake shoved his container of cheese-covered chips toward me.
"Only if you want to exchange a mushroom or cheese curd." I knocked the container of mushrooms against his.
He grinned. "How about one of each, and you can take two chips?" With his fork, he pointed out the cheese curd and mushroom he wanted.
"My brothers take whatever they want off my plate." I gestured for him to spear them with the fork.
"That's rude," he said. "No wonder you didn't try to murder me on the plane. You're used to dealing with rude people."
I'd never thought about it that way before. My family wasn't rude, they were … "Yeah," I finally agreed. "I guess you're right."
After we ate the first bites of the three appetizers and decided they were the best we'd ever tasted, we ate in silence. Unlike with my family, the quiet didn't fill with tension or unspoken judgment. As much as I hated flying, I was glad to be here and not there.
"I'm really sorry," Blake said again. He closed his empty container and slipped it back inside the paper bag. "I was a complete asshole today. Things didn't go my way, but that's no excuse."
"Do you feel better now?" I asked.
He grinned. "Yes. Thanks for suggesting food. I would have skipped the meal, if you hadn't mentioned it." He angled his chin toward the fire. "Probably would have frozen to death out here, too. I don't know the first thing about lighting a fire."
"It will probably get cold tonight," I said. "Can I show you something?"
He laughed when I led him to the bedroom door. "Is this your way of getting me into bed with you, Ollie Beaman?"
My face burned beneath my beard, but I kept walking. He could laugh all he wanted. "There's a king-size bed."
"I know." He frowned like I'd insulted him. "Enjoy—"
"There's plenty of room for you to sleep on one side, and I'll sleep on the other. I'll even sleep on top of the covers."
"Won't you get cold?" he asked. "Hell, I might get cold. That comforter doesn't look very thick."
"I'll be fine." I gave him my best smile. "Like you said, we might get lucky with a cot tomorrow, but for tonight …"
He looked pained, but then he nodded. "For tonight, we can share. Thank you. My back thanks you."
My bear thanked me, too. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I lay on top of the comforter. I'd promised Blake I would, but my bear didn't understand. He wanted to cuddle, but the word he used for Blake turned my blood to ice in my veins.
"Mate."