5. Rune
Chapter 5
Rune
F or a long moment, the towel-clad man and I stare at each other, our eyes wide and shocked.
Slowly, two things become clear:
One: This may be the most awkward situation I’ve ever been in. I’m standing in the middle of a complete stranger’s house, obviously intruding on the very personal routine of a grown man. One who’s alarmingly good looking: dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled body that I can see far, far too much of. I’m not even sure where to look with so much skin showing.
Two: Those. Abs.
“I’m sorry, can I help you?” The shock on his face has been replaced with a sort of bewilderment.
“Sorry, I—uh, Bob—I mean—” I stutter over my words and have to start again. “My car went into the ditch and Bob stopped by to help.”
The man blinks. “…Bob?”
“Yeah.” I realize Bob didn't tell me his last name, but I look around for a picture of him—surely there must be a picture of him in his own house. “Really old guy, hunting cap, nice SUV.”
“Right.” The man tightens the towel around his waist. He seems at a loss for words as he casts his gaze around the room as if Bob is hiding somewhere in the shadows. “So…pardon me for asking the obvious, but what are you doing in my house?”
It takes far too long for the question to register.
His house. His .
“Is this…not Bob’s house?” My voice is barely a squeak.
“I’m afraid not.”
Well…fuck.
I stare back at the man, silently pleading for him to follow up with something that will calm the onset of panic. Something like, Just kidding, this is Bob’s house . But he doesn’t. He just looks at me, brows knit with confusion and expectation.
“Bob dropped me off in the driveway and told me where the key was. Under the planter.” I say the words slowly, pointing towards the back door.
“Did he say why he was dropping you off here?”
“Honestly, I didn’t ask him. He knew where the key was. How could he have known that?” I demand. What if this man throws me out into the snow? What if he calls the police? What a nightmare. “I know he’s a stranger, but he picked me up on the side of the road when my car went into the ditch. I swear I did say hello when I walked in, but you must not have heard because of the—er, shower.” My face heats as my gaze drops from his still wet hair back down to those freaking abs.
The man rubs his forehead with his hand like he has a headache. That makes two of us. “Where is this Bob?”
“He left.” I wince at the incredulous look on the man’s face. It’s so ridiculous. Why did the old man send me into a stranger’s house? “He said he was going to turn on…heat tape?” I don’t know what that even is.
“Right. Okay.” The man gives a short laugh. “I don’t have heat tape.”
I lift my hands in a defeated shrug. I don’t know what else to say besides, “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave now.”
Slowly, regretfully, I unwrap myself from the fuzzy white blanket and put it back on the chair. No amount of explanation can change the fact that I’m currently trespassing like a criminal in a total stranger’s luxury home. My face burns with utter humiliation, even though I'm fairly certain that none of this is remotely my fault—apart from putting my car into the ditch. I need to leave before I burst into tears in front of him like an absolute maniac, but also…I really don’t want to put my wet shoes back on.
He holds out a hand to prevent me from walking past. “No, no—just wait.”
Dear God, I cannot handle more of this conversation. I stare at my hands, fighting against the moisture that’s filling my eyes. It’s a losing battle. Several tears escape before I can brush them away with the back of my hand.
I fully expect him to say something cutting, maybe lecture me on the foolishness of blindly trusting a stranger, but all he does is tighten the towel around his waist and extend his hand. “Finn.”
“Rune.” I shake it, sniffling.
His eyes widen. “Your hand is freezing.”
“I've been sitting in the ditch for a while,” I explain. Maybe he missed that part of my story.
He gives me an appraising look. “I assume you don’t have any alternative means of transportation besides your car, which is currently in the ditch, and…Bob?”
“No.” A few more tears escape and the embarrassment is becoming intolerable. Freezing to death might actually be preferable to this level of humiliation. “I can go,” I say.
Finn heaves a long sigh. “Then you can’t leave. The temperature is dropping and the snow is only getting worse. The first course of action is to get you warm—” he hands the blanket back to me “—and then we can figure out the next step. Do you have any dry clothes to change into?”
“Kind of,” I hedge. I only really grabbed my toiletries from my car, which was dumb, now that I think about it.
Finn’s brows rise as he takes in my soaking wet leggings. “I might have something you can wear while we throw your clothes into the dryer.”
The something is a pair of Finn’s sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. And maybe I’m overthinking this, but it seems a little intimate to put on a complete stranger’s clothes. Especially when said stranger looks like that . I don’t think any woman would be immune to wearing Finn’s clothes.
“Take your time,” he says, motioning towards the bathroom. “I’ll start the kettle for some hot chocolate.”
“Thanks, but dairy and I don't mix,” I admit.
That pulls an unexpected smile out of him. “Me either,” he says. “I mix it with oat milk.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I’m left alone to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look really, really bad. Worse, somehow, than I did when I first walked into his house.
Even though the bathtub looks like heaven to soak in, I change quickly into Finn’s clothes. I have to roll up the legs several times to keep them from dragging on the floor, but my whole body sags with relief at the dry outfit and the heated stone floor beneath my feet.
By the time I return to the kitchen, Finn has two coffee mugs out, both filled with steaming hot chocolate. He's also changed out of his towel and into a pair of gray sweatpants and white t-shirt that does nothing to hide his sculpted body. I’m not sure it’s any better than the towel he was wearing.
He glances at me and the barest hint of a spark catches in his blue eyes. “You wear those well.”
A laugh escapes me. I look like a child playing dress up. “Thank you for loaning them to me.”
“My pleasure. Here’s your hot chocolate: completely dairy-free.”
“Thank you so much.” I wrap both hands immediately around the mug, letting the warmth seep into me.
He takes his own cup and goes to sit at a red armchair in the corner of the room. Awkwardly I follow, taking a seat at the chair just across.
“Do you live around here—sorry, your name again?” Finn asks, sipping on his hot cocoa.
“Rune,” I supply. “And no. I was born in Minnesota, but I live in Illinois now.”
“Long drive.”
“You’re telling me.”
“So what brings you to Minnesota?”
“We-e-ll,” I draw the word out, debating how much is appropriate to share with a complete stranger. It’s probably best if I keep things superficial. He probably already thinks of me as an insane woman, there’s no need to tell him my job and boy drama. “I came up to visit my aunt. I should probably have stopped in Duluth, but I just thought if I drove slow enough, I could make it.”
“Hey, we've all been there,” he says. I think he's just being nice until he adds, “I went into the ditch last winter. Hit a patch of black ice up near Ely.”
“Did it damage your car?” I ask, remembering the screeching sound my engine made in the ditch.
“Nothing that a little trip to the mechanic couldn't fix.” When he sees the look on my face, his slight smile fades. “Sometimes you escape unscathed. Just depends.”
I look down at the hot chocolate in my hands. I’m going to have to ask this guy for a favor—to either let me stay the night or drive me to Aunt Mairi’s. My face gets preemptively hot as I try to think of the best way to phrase it.
Before I can say anything, we’re interrupted by the slam of the back door and a cheery, “Hey there, still up?”
We both turn.
And there’s Bob. Covered in snow, tracking all of it into the house as he shuffles into the kitchen and plops a pack of beer and a bag of pretzels on the countertop.
“That’s Bob,” I mouth to Finn, who looks from me to Bob with a befuddled expression.
Bob doesn’t seem to think any of this is strange. He picks up a newspaper from the edge of the counter and examines it before taking further notice of us. “Ah, you two have gotten acquainted. Finn, I’ve brought you a guest.” He winks at me.
What the actual fuck.
“Don’t mind your boots.” Finn looks pointedly at the trail of snow and water that Bob’s currently tracking across the floor.
Bob ignores the comment and pulls out a chair from the kitchen table. He sits down heavily. “Called Len while I was driving,” he says conversationally, looking at me.
“Len?” I parrot.
“Owner of Len's Towing. Nice guy, lives in town.”
“Can he—?” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Tow my car? Find it?
“Said he’s got a few lined up before you. Could be tomorrow afternoon by the time he gets to yours.”
Oh no. No, no, no. That is so not quick enough.
“Isn’t there anyway he could get to it sooner?”
Bob gives a little huff of laughter. “In a rush?”
What a ridiculous question. “Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be at my aunt’s house, so I can—” I catch myself just in time. I was going to say, so I can wallow in misery .
Finn quirks a brow, noticing my awkward hesitation.
“It’s first come, first serve with Len. Always been that way. He runs a fair business.” Bob nods sagely. I don’t know whether I should be grateful or annoyed. “Most folks are off the road by now anyway, not a good storm to be driving around in.”
“So why are you out and about?” Finn asks.
“Had to bring you two something to drink. Boy, I tell ya, the all-wheel drive on these new vehicles is something.”
“Make sure to tell that to Len when he has to pull your ass out of the ditch, too,” Finn says dryly.
Bob just huffs another little chuckle and gives a pointed nod at Finn's cup of hot chocolate. “That hot chocolate?”
“It's got oat milk in it,” Finn tells him.
Bob looks revolted. “Can't believe you kids drink that. In my day, we had real milk.”
“Yeah, yeah. I'm just making sure there's enough real milk left over for old guys like you.” The shitty grin Finn gives Bob—along with their easy bantering—suggests that maybe they do know each other. I notice Finn didn't ask Bob what he was doing in his house.
I clear my throat. They both turn to face me. The smile falls off Finn’s face. He looks at me like I'm a particularly difficult puzzle that needs to be solved.
“So,” I say, “I don't want to intrude, but?—”
“You're not intruding.” Bob cuts me off with a wave of the hand. “Finn here spends too much time alone. It’ll be good for him to have company. Besides, we're not going to leave a kid to freeze in a ditch.”
I’m not a child , I want to object, but I don’t think that Bob really cares. I turn to Finn for help, unsure of where to go with this. But he's not looking at me anymore. He and Bob are currently immersed in a silent conversation.
“I could probably tow your car out,” Finn says finally. “In the morning, or whenever the snow lightens up a bit.”
“No, absolutely not. You don’t have to—” I begin, but Bob cuts me off with a scoffing sound.
“Finn’s got a winch on his truck. Should be able to get a tiny thing like your car out. He’ll do a better job than Len, anyway. Just give a call in the morning when you two want to start. I’ll swing by to help.” He stands up and shuffles his way back across the house.
I just sort of assume that he’s going to take off his shoes or coat, maybe tell me that he’ll drop me off at a hotel for the night. Instead, I hear the back door open and shut.
Bob is gone. Again.