Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ru woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains he’d not closed properly the night before. He lay still, enjoying the rare brightness after days of stormy gloom. Then memory flooded back, bringing heat to his face that had nothing to do with the winter sun.
He’d kissed Jake. Or Jake had kissed him.
They’d kissed each other.
And then Jake had stopped it.
Ru groaned and pulled the pillow over his face.
Had he really spilt his entire Cooper saga to a man he’d met barely a handful of days before?
And then practically thrown himself at said man?
The gin was to blame. The sloe gin had gone down too easily, deceptively sweet until it hit you sideways.
But alcohol wasn’t the real culprit. He’d wanted to kiss Jake.
He’d wanted to more than kiss Jake. A whole lot more.
Jake. Tall, strong, tough, capable, handsome Jake.
“Mortifying,” he muttered into the pillow. “Absolutely mortifying.”
He forced himself to replay the scene. Darkness, the flickering lamplight, the warmth in Jake’s eyes, before they’d closed the distance between them. The firm press of his lips, the slight rasp of scruff against Ru’s palm. The way Jake’s hand had felt against his face, both strong and gentle.
And then Jake pulling away. Because of honour. Because of principles. Because Ru was vulnerable and under his protection.
Ru wasn’t sure whether to be touched or irritated by Jake’s chivalry. Both, probably. He appreciated the consideration, even as his body had screamed in frustration at the abrupt end to what had been building between them.
Still, something in the memory caught at him.
Not just embarrassment, but a strange and unfamiliar warmth that bloomed deep within him.
Jake had stopped not because he didn’t want Ru, but because he respected him too much to continue.
When was the last time someone had put Ru’s wellbeing ahead of their own desires? Cooper certainly never had.
The pillow slid away as Ru sat up and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.
He couldn’t hide in his room forever, no matter how tempting the idea might be.
He needed to face Jake, to navigate whatever awkwardness awaited downstairs.
The thought made his stomach twist, but he squared his shoulders.
He’d survived Cooper’s public betrayal, so surely he could handle morning-after awkwardness with a man who’d merely shown restraint.
Showered and dressed in jeans and the too big navy jumper Jake had lent him, Ru made his way downstairs. The house was quiet except for the familiar crackle of the wood burner. He paused at the bottom, taking a steadying breath before rounding the corner into the kitchen.
Jake stood at the counter, his back to the doorway, broad shoulders tense beneath his sweatshirt. The electricity was clearly back on, as the overhead lights had replaced last night’s golden lamplight.
“Morning,” Ru said, aiming for casual and missing by several miles, his voice coming out as high as a pre-pubescent boy’s.
Jake turned, coffee mug in hand. His gaze fell to the jumper Ru was wearing, Jake’s jumper, before his eyes met Ru’s for just a second before sliding away.
“Morning. There’s fresh coffee if you want it.”
“Thanks.” Ru moved to the cabinet where the mugs were kept, aware of Jake shifting to maintain distance between them. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the air charged with unspoken words.
“Electricity’s back, then.” Ru cringed inwardly. Talk about stating the bloody obvious.
“Grid came back online around five. Generator’s sorted too, at least for now.”
“That’s good.” Ru poured coffee with more concentration than the task required. “No more camping indoors.”
“No.” Jake took a sip from his mug, gaze fixed somewhere over Ru’s left shoulder.
“Though the lamplight was…” He stopped, cleared his throat.
“Storm’s behaving itself too, but not for long.
It’ll hit again later.” Jake gulped down the rest of his coffee and headed for the door.
“Need to check the outbuildings, make sure there’s no damage. ”
“Can I help?” Ru asked, hating the slight note of desperation in his voice.
“It’s better you stay here. The path’s treacherous.”
And just like that, he was gone, Monty trotting after him and leaving Ru alone in the kitchen, coffee cooling in his hands.
Leaning against the counter, Ru sighed. Jake had retreated completely. He’d gone back to being the taciturn man who’d given him shelter when it’d been the last thing he’d wanted to do, as far from the man who’d shared lamplight and gin and kisses as it was possible to get.
God, could it get any more awkward? And all because he’d pushed, and pushed, and pushed.
He moved to the window, watching as Jake trudged through the snow towards the barn, his steps purposeful, his back straight, as Monty bounded alongside him.
The morning sun turned the snowscape into a glittering wonderland, pristine and untouched except for Jake’s footprints cutting a dark line across the white.
It was beautiful. And despite the awkwardness hanging over them, Ru felt a sudden urge to be out in it, to feel the crunch of fresh snow under his boots, to breathe air that wasn’t heavy with unspoken words and careful distances.
An idea formed, and Ru grinned. He finished his coffee and headed for the utility room, pulling on the layers and the boots Jake had lent him, along with the hat and gloves, ready to face the snow.
The cold hit him like a punch to the gut when he stepped outside.
Ru waded through it towards the flat, open area in front of the living room window, feeling light-headed with the brightness and the cold and the sheer relief of being outside. He scooped up a handful of snow, testing its consistency between his fingers. Yep, perfect for packing.
By the time he heard Jake’s return, Ru had already rolled a large ball of snow for the base of the snowman. He was struggling to get the middle section in place when a shadow fell across the snow.
“What are you doing?”
“Building a snowman.” Ru didn’t look up focusing, instead, on stopping the midsection from tumbling. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Looks like you’re making a mess of it.”
Ru looked up then, his cheeks pulsing with cold and exertion. “I’d like to see you do better.”
Jake said nothing, his expression unreadable, before he tutted, set down the toolbox he’d been carrying, and bent to gather snow.
“Your base is too small,” he said, rolling his own ball of snow with none of Ru’s huffing and puffing. “Won’t support the weight of the middle and the head.”
“Sorry, I left my professional snowman building credentials in London. How foolish of me.”
Jake’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Clearly.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Ru stole glances at Jake, noting the methodical way he packed the snow, the slight relaxation in his shoulders, and the tip of his nose, pink in the cold air.
Jake caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Just admiring your technique.” Ru didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. “It’s very structured.”
“Efficient, you mean. No wasted energy.” His expression was deadpan, but there was a warmth in his voice that had been absent in the kitchen, earlier.
“Is there a military protocol for snowman construction I should know about?”
“Yes, but it’s classified.”
Ru laughed, the sound carrying in the crisp air. “Of course. Silly me.”
Jake stepped back, surveying their creation with critical eyes. “Not bad.”
“No, it’s not bad at all. It’s also very tall.”
The snowman must have been at least six foot tall, more than Ru’s own five seven, which shifted upwards to five eight on official forms. Ru patted the snowman’s middle section, his gloved hands leaving impressions in the packed snow.
“He should have a face. And arms.”
They combed the edge of the cleared area, gathering stones and pieces of fallen branches.
“He also needs accessories,” Ru said, after they’d used sticks for arms and stones for the face. “A gentleman snowman should be properly attired.”
Jake disappeared into the house without comment, returning moments later with a battered woollen hat and a faded red scarf.
“Will these do?”
“Perfect!” Ru clapped his gloved hands together, leaving puffs of snow in the air. “Though you’ll have to put his hat on.”
Instead of doing just that, Jake moved behind Ru, strong hands circling his waist. Before Ru could react to what was happening, he found himself lifted effortlessly, as if he weighed next to nothing.
“This high enough for you?”
Ru’s breath caught, the sudden, unexpected proximity sending heat coursing through him despite the cold. Jake’s hands were firm against his sides, warm through layers of clothing, the casual display of strength making his stomach flutter.
“Er, yes,” he managed, his voice a tangled squawk as he rammed the hat on top of the snowman’s head, a snowman who now looked like he was smirking.
A moment later, he was back on the ground, taking way too long to wrap the scarf around the snowman’s neck, anything to not look at Jake.
“He looks distinguished, don’t you think?” Ru said, not meeting Jake’s eye.
“No, he looks ridiculous.”
Ru’s gaze snapped to Jake. “No. You’re just jealous because a snowman’s more stylish than you.”
“Is that right?” Jake’s tone shifted, a challenge entering his voice. Before Ru could react, a snowball hit him squarely in the chest, exploding in a puff of white.
“Did you just—” Ru began, outrage warring with delight.
Another snowball, this one grazing his shoulder as he twisted away.
“Oh, it is so on,” Ru declared, scooping up snow and packing it hastily. His first attempt disintegrated in flight, but his second caught Jake’s arm as he ducked behind the snowman.
“Hiding behind an innocent bystander?” Ru called, already forming another missile. “Shameful tactics, soldier!”