Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Jake steadied the log before lifting the heavy axe, making sure his grip was sure. Raising his arms, he stilled himself for a second before, chop, cleaving the wood in two.
Log after log, the pile growing. With each log splitting beneath the sharp, heavy blade, he grunted at the impact, his breath forming icy clouds.
He didn’t need to be in the barn, he didn’t need to chop more logs, because he already had more than enough to feed the fire, and now he had even more.
It was displacement activity, but the hard physical work helped to dissolve some of the tension that had been holding him tight since he’d had no choice but to tell Ru his only option was to stay.
His shoulders stiffened again. He’d tried hard, really fucking hard, to not have to give the guy the only option neither of them wanted.
Ru’s car was as dead as the road kill that littered the narrow upland lanes and tracks, and good for nothing other than to be crushed in a scrapyard. Jake grunted. He’d been determined for it not to beat him, because he could fix anything, always could, had been known for it.
Or perhaps not everything.
Jake’s aim on the log missed, the blade skimming the edge and sending it rolling along the ground.
“Shit,” he muttered, irritation flaring. He wasn’t usually so careless. Then again, he wasn’t usually trying to work while his mind insisted on dwelling on a stranger with grey eyes and a nervous smile, and who was currently occupying his spare room.
Jake retrieved the log, positioning it more carefully this time.
The rhythm of chopping had always helped clear his head; the focus required, the physical exertion, the satisfying crack as wood yielded to steel.
But today his thoughts kept drifting back to the house, to Ru Parker, so ill-prepared and hopelessly out of place in the stark, snow covered uplands.
The axe came down with more force than necessary, splitting the log cleanly and burying itself in the chopping block beneath. Jake wrenched it free with a grunt.
Six, maybe seven days, the weather service had said.
Perhaps longer if the second front moved in.
Days of sharing his solitude with a man who looked like he’d never seen a real winter in his life, who drove a clapped out old banger into a storm, and who took a wrong turn that left him miles from his intended destination.
Jake set up another log, focusing on the task at hand. He didn’t need complications. Didn’t want them. He’d rebuilt his life, piece by careful piece, after everything had fallen apart. He had his routines, his work, his space. And now, he had Ru Parker.
He swung the axe again, satisfaction flowing through him as the log split perfectly down the middle.
“Don’t know why you’re so full of beans.” Jake glared at Monty, the black and white shaggy mutt, part Collie, part Lab, and total lunatic, who was intent on trying to catch his tail before he flopped down on his back, his wriggling around accompanied by little yelps and throaty barks.
The dog rolled to a sit and gazed up at Jake with naked, unadorned adoration. Monty was the only male who’d done that for longer than Jake wanted to think about.
“What am I going to do with him, eh?” He stared at Monty, as though waiting for him to answer.
“I mean, how the hell did he end up here if he was making for Bobblecombe?” he muttered under his breath as he loaded up the sledge with logs.
“Can’t he read a map?” Monty fell onto his back, legs akimbo, demanding belly rubs.
Jake tutted. “Idiot dog,” he grumbled, as he leant over and obeyed the command as a rare smile lifted his lips.
“At least you’re easy to please.” Jake gave him one last vigorous scratch before straightening.
“Food, walks, and belly rubs. No complications.”
Unlike people. Unlike the man currently making himself at home in Jake’s rigidly ordered world.
He’d seemed harmless enough on the surface—a bit naive perhaps, definitely unprepared for Dartmoor in winter—but there was something in those grey eyes that spoke of recent hurt.
Jake recognised it because he’d seen it in his own reflection often enough.
Yet wounded people were unpredictable. Dangerous, even.
Jake secured the last of the logs on the sledge.
He didn’t need to know Ru’s story. Didn’t want to know it.
The man would be gone as soon as the roads cleared, onwards to Bobblecombe, or back to his London life and whatever mess he’d been running from.
Jake’s job was simply to ensure he survived until then.
Back at the house, where Jake stacked the logs in a large utility room, Monty scampered through to the kitchen, his loud, ferocious sounding barks cutting through the silence.
“It’s all right, he’s more likely to lick you to death,” Jake said as he came through to the kitchen.
Ru cowered in a corner, backed up against a cupboard, from where he stared down at Monty, his face white.
“Monty!” Jake’s bark was more than a match for the dog’s. Monty fell silent, his head twisting from Ru to Jake, back to Ru, as though asking for an introduction.
Christ. The guy was afraid of dogs… That was going to be awkward. Jake’s brow furrowed. Too bad. Ru was just going to have to get used to the mutt, because there was no way he’d send Monty out of the house, or even away from his usual place in front of the fire.
“He gave me quite a shock.” Ru looked down at Monty, who decided now would be a good time to lift his leg and nibble around his balls. “That’s an impressive party trick.” Ru gave a nervous laugh as he side stepped along the cupboard and away from Monty.
“There’s nothing to be worried about. He’s got a big bark but no bite. Bloody useless as a guard dog.”
Jake pulled a box of treats out from under the sink; immediately Monty forgot about his gonads as he scrambled up and across for a biscuit.
Guard dog? That was a laugh. Jake had enough security and more than enough confidence in his own abilities to be able to deal with anybody taking an unhealthy interest in the farm.
“Is that why you bought him? Although, perhaps he doesn’t look quite so ferocious now.”
Jake glanced up at Ru, who didn’t look totally convinced by his own words. He smothered a sigh. If his unwanted guest was going to be hanging around for a few days, he and Monty were going to have to become friends, and fast.
“I didn’t buy him.” Jake’s voiced softened as he watched Monty munch on his treat. “Found him as a pup in Bristol a year or two ago. He was tied to a fence and two pieces of shit were taking turns kicking him.” His jaw tightened at the memory.
“God, that’s vile. Did you report them to the police? Animal cruelty’s a crime.”
Jake’s mouth curved in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No, I didn’t report them. Let’s just say they learnt that actions have consequences.”
“Poor Monty.” Ru crouched down to Monty’s level, his earlier fear of the dog forgotten. Monty wagged his tail, but kept his distance. “But you rescued him.”
“You could say that.” He’d also left the tormentors with fractured limbs before untying the washing line that’d been digging into Monty’s neck, bundling him up in his coat and bringing him back to the farm.
He threw a glance at Ru; Monty wasn’t the only waif and stray he’d rescued, and he’d be damned if he was going to make a habit of it.
“You need to get used to him, because I’m not putting him out of the house.” Jake smothered his wince; even to his own ears, his words and the tone sounded hard.
“I don’t expect you to. This is Monty’s home, not mine.”
Silence filled the kitchen, broken only by Monty crunching down on his treat.
Jake pushed his fingers through his close cropped hair, a sudden awkwardness stealing over him.
He’d barked at Ru again, and for no reason.
Barking. Like an attack dog. Aggressive, always aggressive.
As much as that aggression had more than once saved his life, it had also wrecked it.
“Give him a treat, and he’ll be your friend for life.” Jake handed a biscuit to Ru. Monty had already had more than his day’s allocation, but the need to make some kind of amends to Ru pressed down on Jake; plus Ru needed to get used to being around the dog.
“Monty. Come on. Come and say hello properly.”
Monty came forward before stopping and looking up at Jake as though asking for permission. Jake nodded. The dog closed the gap and snaffled the treat from Ru’s hand. It was gone in seconds. Monty rolled onto his back, baring his pink stomach.
“What did I tell you?” Jake said, watching Monty wriggle around.
Ru laughed and tickled the dog’s belly.
The sound caught Jake off-guard. Bright and free, it transformed Ru’s face, lighting up his eyes. For a moment the shadows Jake had noticed earlier disappeared completely, replaced by simple joy at Monty’s antics.
“He’s utterly shameless.” Ru grinned as Monty squirmed beneath his touch. “Aren’t you, boy? No dignity whatsoever.”
“He’s got you wrapped around his paw already. But don’t let him fool you, because he can be a manipulative little bugger.”
“Oh, I’ve come to recognise manipulation when I see it. My ex, he was the grand master.” Although his tone was light, Ru’s lips curved downwards and he kept his eyes averted.
The casual remark hung in the air between them.
He. Jake absorbed this confirmation of what he’d already suspected, although the faded ‘PRIDE in London’ lettering on Ru’s sweatshirt was a giveaway.
Jake looked towards the window. It’d stopped snowing, but it was only a temporary reprieve and would be coming down hard again before the day grew old.
He’d seen brutal winters before, but this one, barely halfway through, was already topping them all.
His gaze shifted back to Ru, startled to find the younger man looking at him, his gaze steady.