Chapter 4 #2
“You l-look worried. Don’t be. I w-w-won’t ask you to hold my dick.” He snort-laughed. “I’ll be c-c-careful. If I go rogue, you can straighten m-m-me out.”
Oh. My. God.
And that was how I found myself hovering nearby as a grown man pissed. Unbelievable.
Thankfully, he didn’t require my services. But did I stare at his dick? Yes, I did.
I led Silas back to the living area and motioned for him to stand by the fire. “Use the blanket. I’m going to make some tea for you.”
“I’m still sh-shaking. C-can’t hold a mug.” Silas held up his hand to demonstrate.
“All right. I’ll look for a thermos. Just…stay there.”
My house was an open-concept modern cabin with log-hewn walls, hardwood flooring, and gigantic windows overlooking Lake Norman and the surrounding forest of Wood Hollow.
The furniture consisted of a large sectional sofa, a couple of leather recliners, and a sturdy coffee table.
Colorful rugs delineated the living and adjoining dining area, and the kitchen was just beyond.
The office, a small bathroom, and laundry room were the only rooms with doors on the first floor.
I’d designed the house specifically to capture as much natural light as possible, and if I did say so myself, it had turned out beautifully. The kids had plenty of space to run around, their bedrooms were large, and they each had their own bathrooms.
And the basement was a fun zone. It was everything I’d wished I’d had growing up.
A designated sports corner with a basketball hoop, batting cage, and arcade game; a creative section for painting or crafting; a reading nook, a gaming area, and of course, a giant flat-screen.
I spent a lot of time there with Ivy and Chase. Not so much on my own.
When it was just me, the house seemed much too big. I rarely had company—and never this kind.
I unearthed a box of peppermint tea and poured hot water into a thermos.
I screwed on the top and braved a glance at the football star blocking the fireplace with his sheer size.
Silas hadn’t moved a muscle…and I was beginning to worry that he couldn’t.
I set the tea on the coffee table and googled hypothermia.
Step 1, call a medical professional. Silas had been very adamant about not doing that, and he was completely lucid.
If I hadn’t thought his was a mild case, I would have taken him straight to the clinic.
Or called my neighbor. But Dr. Shandley was in Florida for the winter, so, I’d done what Google had advised: The victim was warm and dry, and all wet clothing had been removed.
The next step was to cover up with blankets or skin-to-skin contact.
I picked up the blanket he’d dropped and draped it over Silas’s shoulders.
He grunted a thank-you. “I’m gonna sit on the floor.”
“Stick close to the fire, but not too close.”
“Got it, Dad.”
“Smartass,” I grumbled.
“I’m okay here.” Silas grabbed my elbow for purchase and slowly sank to his knees in front of me.
I gave myself permission to use that imagery for spank bank material as soon as I knew he was in the clear.
For now, we were at mission critical. Silas couldn’t stay on his knees or lie on the floor, for fuck’s sake.
And the sectional was too cumbersome to move on my own.
I was pretty sure I had a blow-up bed somewhere, though.
“Be back in a sec.”
I rummaged through the storage closet in the basement and found our camping gear: a tent, a portable propane stove, dozens of lanterns, a couple of blow-up mattresses, and thankfully, a pump.
I brought a queen-sized mattress upstairs and shoved the coffee table out of the way while the motorized pump worked its magic.
Silas twisted toward me. “What’s all thissss?”
“A bed. It’ll be more comfortable than the floor, and you can stay close to the fire.”
“Oh.” He looked from the fireplace to me. “I can’t st-stay. I should g-go.”
“I know you want to.” And trust me, I felt the same.
I pushed the coffee table against the sectional and continued.
“But you’re still shaking, and the storm is just kicking into gear now.
I don’t think you have any frostbite, which is a damn miracle, but you have a mild case of hypothermia, and the worst thing you could do is to go outside. So just…warm up and try to relax.”
I maneuvered the newly blown-up mattress in front of the hearth and tucked a sheet on it. I hoped Silas would take the hint and lie down, but no.
“This is a lot,” he commented with a wry grin.
“Just…do as I say. Please.”
Unbelievably, he did.
I covered Silas with the comforter and asked if he needed anything.
“N-no. I’m fine. Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to call my kids. I’ll be in the kitchen in case—”
“Mmm…okay,” he intercepted, straightening his long legs.
I crouched to wrap his feet in the blanket and flashed what I hoped was a reassuring smile. I probably failed. The truth was…I wasn’t thrilled with the way my day was playing out. The kids should have been with me—not with their mom.
And Silas shouldn’t be here. At all.
I was low-key angry with him for embarking on his own like some kind of intrepid hunter. Silas didn’t know these parts. He was a Rolex-wearing city boy who didn’t know the first thing about snow.
I perched on a barstool at the kitchen island and made a few calls. I rescheduled my online meeting, made sure Layla had gone home, and told Pete, one of the warehouse managers, to let the rest of the crew go.
“Thanks, Boss. It’s a good call. The roads are nasty, and a few of our boys live in Fallbrook. They’re gonna have to take the long way around the lake. You heard they closed the pass out of Elmwood?”
“I did.” I gazed out the window at the winter white landscape. “Stay in touch. We’ll see what tomorrow is like, but if this is a hint of what’s to come, I don’t want anyone endangering themselves for a paycheck.”
“But you’ll be there,” he said drolly.
“We’ll see. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“All right. Be safe.”
I texted Hank to update him on the weather situation here, and what was beginning to look like an impromptu day and a half off at the mill. Then I scrolled to Ivy’s number.
She had nothing new to report. It was snowing too hard to do anything outside, so they were playing video games and if they could agree on a movie, they’d watch one later.
“Chase wants to watch Elf and he doesn’t even care that it’s not Christmas. Tell him not to be annoying,” Ivy griped.
“Be nice, Ive, and work it out.” Silas was right about my dad energy, I mused as I gave a similar spiel to Chase.
I casually circled the living area to check on my guest while I talked. Silas hadn’t moved much. He sat with his legs outstretched, covered from the waist down by the blanket, his eyes at half-mast and fixed on the fire. I slipped my cell into my pocket and kneeled beside him.
“I’m okay,” he rasped. “Just sort of numb all over. Especially my f-feet.”
“Mind if I take a peek?”
“Go for it. B-but if they’re blue, don’t tell me.”
I hiked the blanket to his calves and rolled one sock off. His foot wasn’t blue, but he was only a shade off cadaver white. I cupped his heel, unthinking, and rubbed his instep and his toes. “You’re still cold.”
“Yeah, but that feels good.”
And now I was giving foot massages. Wow. Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been seriously odd.
“Did you try the tea?” I asked, inclining my chin toward the thermos. “Drinking something warm will help. Or are you hungry? I could make—”
“Soup.” Silas sat taller.
“You want soup?” I rubbed my jaw. “I can do that. I think I have the ingredients to make chicken noodle—”
“No, from the grocery store. I bought soup. Did I leave the bags somewhere?” He furrowed his brow, adding, “I can’t remember.”
“They’re in my truck. Glad you reminded me. I’ll grab them now.”
“Thanks. Tomato soup. It’s canned, but it’s the good kind…like organic and sh-shit. Happy to sh-share,” he sputtered, lifting the blanket over his chest.
“Sounds good.” I gave my best stern dad glare and pointed at his chest for good measure. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Ha. Ha.”
I rescued the groceries from the back seat of my truck and cleared a shelf in the fridge for his perishables—eggs, milk, butter, veggies, and some chicken breasts.
I left the rest on the counter, setting a can of organic tomato soup aside.
I figured it would be easier to heat it on the stove and while we waited, I could whip up a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches.
The fire roared pleasantly, throwing shadows on the opposite end of the great room.
Falling snow painted the landscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and yes…
it was cozy and quiet. The perfect afternoon for cuddling up with a book or an old movie and a cup of something warm. Like grilled cheese and soup.
With a stranger.
I poured soup into a bowl, plated two grilled cheeses, and carried everything into the living area like a seasoned waiter.
“How you doin’?”
Silas held up a trembling hand. “This is starting to freak me out.”
Me too.
“You need to warm your insides. The soup will help…and I made grilled cheese.” I sat next to him and took a bite of my sandwich, complete with a yummy sound. Christ, you’d think I was coaxing one of my kids to eat. “I used cheddar. It’s good.”
Silas reached for a sandwich square, shaky but determined, and took a bite. “Sss good.”
His bite was more of a nibble. Better than nothing, though this wasn’t doing much for his body temp.
“How about the soup? I can…feed it to you,” I suggested awkwardly.
“Fuck, this is weird.”
“I know. Trust me…I know. But you gotta get warm.” I picked up the bowl and brought a spoonful of tomato soup to his lips.
“If you make a choo-choo noise, I’m going to clock y-you.”
A grin split my face in half. “Chugga-chugga…”
“Fuck you.” He snorted without heat.
I snickered. “C’mon. Open up, tough guy.”