Turning Wood Read online

  Mason yelped and shoved away from the building. The cover tangled around him; the snow burned against his bare feet as he tried to gain his balance.

  “Mason!”

  The kidnapper knew his name?

  Mason ran. It didn’t go nearly as fast as it normally did; it was as if his muscles had melted. Had he been drugged? He only needed to get back to the resort then he could call the police. It couldn’t be far away.

  A wall of pine trees appeared in front of him, it grew into a forest, but Mason didn’t care. He ducked and shielded himself from the prickly limbs the best he could.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Mason! Come back here!”

  Mason glanced over his shoulder. The guy was gaining on him, easily. He ordered his useless legs to move, but they continued their slow-motion thing.

  Strong arms grabbed him from behind and Mason might have yelped again. He wasn’t a yelper, not normally.

  “Are you out of your mind? You could have died.” The man’s gruff voice did nothing to calm him down. “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

  The man steered him around. Mason would’ve liked to say he fought for his freedom, but his resistance only lasted for thirty seconds or maybe it was closer to five. He was too exhausted to stand, and the man carefully wrapped an arm around his waist to help him back toward the building—a cute little log cabin. If he’d had the energy, he would have groaned because the cabin’s closest neighbor was the resort. He couldn’t even run in the right direction when he tried to escape.

  * * * *

  Otho helped Mason back into bed. He couldn’t believe he’d run, naked, in the snow. Sure, confusion was a sign of hypothermia, but to run outside without a stitch of clothing?

  The ambulance would arrive any minute now—or so he hoped. He’d rushed into the resort, straight into the bar where he knew Joslyn would be. He hadn’t made much sense, but at least she’d called an ambulance for him.

  His hands were shaking as he ran a hand over his wet beard and chest—at least the ice had melted. Not wasting any time, he pulled off his clothes. A shiver worked its way through him. Shit, he’d gone out on the river. His heart pounded and his fingers trembled so badly that he had trouble unbuttoning his jeans.

  “Erm…what do you think you’re doing?” Mason’s hazel eyes tracked his motions with suspicion.

  “Getting out of my wet clothes.”

  “Oh no, you’re not.”

  Otho turned to watch him, his skin was still too pale, his lips still blue. The run outside hadn’t helped matters. “I think one of us freezing to death is enough for one day.” He shoved down the jeans, wet in the front, dry in the back. He shuddered again, could still hear the ice breaking, see the snow soaking up water.

  “I’m not sleeping with you. I’m in a relationship.”

  Otho forced his mouth shut as he once again turned to Mason. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Otho stared. He had a naked man in his bed, and he hadn’t had a naked man in his bed in a long, long time—not that it mattered. Mason was here because he’d almost died, not because he wanted to be in Otho’s bed.

  He put on dry clothes and went through his closet for a pair of warm checked flannel pajama bottoms and a sweater for Mason. “Here.” He walked up to the bed and handed the clothes to Mason, but when he tried to hold onto them, they dropped from his hands.

  “Why isn’t my body working?”

  “Because you took a swim in the river.” Otho pulled the sweater over his head. “The ambulance should be here any second.”

  “I fell through!” Mason began shaking more than before.

  “You did. I tried calling you before the ice broke, but you didn’t hear me.”

  Mason stared at him. “I heard you. I turned and…” His breath caught and a look of panic overtook his eyes.

  “Yeah.” Otho lifted the cover and slid in, not caring that Mason hadn’t put the pajama bottoms on yet and wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be fine, though. The paramedics will look you over to be sure, but as far as I could tell, you never lost consciousness and you’re warming up.”

  “Am I?” He pushed at Otho for a second or two before accepting the embrace. “I feel colder now than before.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Otho rubbed his arms, kneaded his shoulders, and tried to get the blood flowing. A vehicle turned into his driveway and Otho let go of Mason and got out of bed. “The ambulance is here.” At least he hoped it was the ambulance and not Joslyn who was too curious to stay away.

  Opening the door, Otho waved at the two paramedics jumping out of the ambulance. “This way.”

  One of them, a stern-looking man with graying hair, stopped in front of him. “Any dogs in the house?”

  “Erm…no.” Otho frowned at him. “Why?”

  “I’d have asked you to lock them into a room, you never know how animals react.”

  Otho nodded, not appreciating the man’s harsh tone. “Mason’s inside. Go right through the living room, the bedroom is to the left.”

  Keeping out of the way, Otho watched as the paramedics talked to Mason and looked him over.

  The other paramedic walked over to Otho after a few minutes. “You’ve done well. It’s mild hypothermia, could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “I saw him fall in.” Otho shuddered again.

  “Good thing you did. In this cold, he wouldn’t have lasted long.”

  Otho nodded. “So, you’ll take him in for observation?” He should say he didn’t know Mason, but he kept his mouth shut.

  The man shook his head. “Nah, he’s not in any danger. Just keep an eye on him, give him hot drinks, not coffee and no alcohol. Make sure he’s warm.”

  Otho opened his mouth to protest, but instead he nodded.

  “He’s lucky to have you.” The paramedic grinned and squeezed his arm.

  Lucky to have him?

  * * * *

  “You had to leave me nude with them, didn’t you?” Mason wished the guy, the man, the not-Santa-kidnapper would come back to bed. It was cold and his arms had been strong and solid around him. He looked like a reliable man, though Mason probably shouldn’t trust his instincts. It hadn’t gone well lately. The man was older than Mason, maybe even older than Joel, but not old old. He looked fit, his dark hair a bit unruly, and his beard a shade darker than the rest. There were laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes and Mason had the stupid idea of wanting to hear him laugh.

  “I think they’ve seen naked men before, and you are wearing a sweater.”

  Mason glared at him, though he wasn’t being serious. His mind was catching up and, if it hadn’t been for bearded superman over there, he’d be dead. “What’s your name?”

  The guy narrowed his eyes. “I told you.”

  He had? “Are you sure?”

  Mason’s heart skipped a beat as the man smiled at him. It was the first time he’d seen him smile, and it took ten years off him. Mason didn’t mind those ten years being there, he’d always liked his men older than himself, not that he was shopping for a new man, but the smile transformed him. He groaned as he remembered telling the guy he wouldn’t be sleeping with him.

  “Otho, my name is Otho, and this is my house.”

  “I’m not in a relationship.” Mason shook his head. God, could he still blame having taken a dip in the river for saying stupid things?

  Otho kept still, his lashes lowering in a slow blink. “Okay.”

  “I was. My boyfriend…and I’ll shut up now.” Mason flung an arm over his face. Stupid, so stupid.

  The low chuckle wrapped around him like an extra blanket and he wished Otho would hold him again. Those warm hands kneading his muscles was just what he needed. He peeked up at Otho—tall and strong, not at all like Joel. There was something genuine about him, something…trustworthy, something that almost had Mason begging him to come back to bed.

  “The paramedics said to give you something hot to drink, not coffee.”

  “I could’ve used some
coffee. I was chatting to a blue-haired woman, drinking more whiskey than I’ve had in ten years, combined, and went for a walk. Coffee would be superb now.”

  Otho chuckled again. “So you’ve met Joslyn.”

  Joslyn? Oh, God, please don’t say Otho was dating the bartender. He closed his eyes, trying to remember if he’d said something embarrassing while at the bar.

  “How about some hot chocolate?”

  Mason risked a glance at Otho. “That would be lovely, thank you. Will you…erm…come back to bed after?”

  “Still freezing?”

  Yeah, let’s go with that. He was freezing, but…“Sure.”

  Otho grinned and shook his head. “One hot chocolate coming up.”

  * * * *

  Otho went for the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolate but stopped on the way to turn on the Christmas tree lights. The scent of pine was strong in the living room and he filled his lungs. He loved Christmas, hated to spend it alone, but loved Christmas. The fire in the wood-burning stove had burned out a long time ago and he lit it again.

  Looking around, he sighed. The crackle from the fire warmed his heart, and he turned on the TV and grinned when The Muppet Christmas Carol came on.

  Heating the chocolate, he took out two cups and prepared a plate with gingerbread cookies and Peppermint Oreo Fudge.

  “Mason?” He went into the bedroom, noticing Mason shaking more now than when he’d left.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?” Otho frowned. Perhaps they should go to the hospital.

  “A bit cold, but other than that, sure.”

  “You want to watch some TV?”

  “Do I have to move to get to the TV?”

  Otho grinned. “Sorry.”

  Mason sighed but nodded, and Otho grabbed the pajama bottoms still resting on the bedside table. “Here, put these on.”

  Mason pulled off the cover and shivered as he sat but didn’t move further. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to move.”

  “It’s warmer in the living room.” Otho shook out the pajama bottoms and tried not to look at Mason as he guided his feet through the legs. When he woke this morning, he hadn’t thought he’d end up face to groin with a man before the day was over—not that he was complaining. He hadn’t written a Christmas list, but if he had, it might’ve been on the top of the list.

  “Like what you see?”

  Otho yanked his head away as Mason’s voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

  “It’s a nice cock.”

  Mason spluttered, stared, and spluttered some more. There was a second of silence before Mason chuckled. “Pervert.”

  Otho’s chest filled with warmth and he grinned. Mason, on the other hand, was frowning.

  “Ready to get up?” Otho stood and waited for Mason to do the same.

  “I can manage. You can go ahead.” He nodded toward the door, his hand resting on his thighs, shielding his groin. Was he embarrassed? Otho turned and walked toward the living room. He’d only managed a couple of steps before Mason cursed and Otho whirled around. Seeing Mason about to faceplant into the floor, Otho jumped back and grabbed him before it was too late. The pajama bottoms were pulled up, but Otho guessed Mason had lost his balance somewhere in the process of getting there.

  “I’m not normally this much of a klutz.” Mason clung to him, his face turning pink which had to be a good sign with hypothermia and all. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the smoothest guy out there, but I’m not…clumsy.” Mason looked away and Otho had the most ridiculous notion to kiss him.

  “Don’t worry about it.” But Otho didn’t let go of him, instead, he stood there, one arm around Mason’s waist, keeping him pressed against his chest. They were about the same height, Otho already knew but made a note of it anyway. Mason was a little slimmer but not by much.

  “The chocolate is getting cold. Or, I mean, did you make hot chocolate?” Mason looked into his eyes.

  “I did.”

  “Hey, were you wearing protective glasses before?”

  Fuck! “I…erm…yeah. Come on let’s get you on the sofa. I need to go out and turn off the lathe.”

  “The what?”

  “I was turning wood.” Otho hurried them forward.

  “Sounds dirty.”

  * * * *

  Mason must have hit his head, maybe not hit his head, but something had happened to him while he’d taken a dip in the river. He had this strange urge to cling to Otho. Sitting next to him on the sofa with blankets over them both, the fire crackling, and the hot chocolate and holiday sweets was like being dropped into a winter fairytale, and yet Mason wanted more—he wanted to climb on top of Otho and demand he hold him.

  Insanity, he could always claim insanity, but he feared it was more than that.

  It was Otho’s steady gaze, his quiet calm, the warmth. He didn’t look at Mason funny when Mason moved closer, didn’t comment about him leaning against him. Joel always had, had always found Mason needy and clingy. He was clinging to Otho now, the only difference was that Otho didn’t seem to mind.

  But, then again, perhaps he was being nice because Mason had taken a swim outside his house. He sighed. What had he been thinking?

  “Are you okay?” Otho searched his face with those blue eyes of his.

  “Thank you for saving me.”

  “Any time.” Otho smiled. “But what were you doing walking out on the ice?”

  “It looked…tranquil. I needed to clear my mind, and it looked so undisturbed.”

  “Because no one walks on the ice of a river. It never freezes solid with the currents—” Otho shook his head. “You could have died.” The arm around Mason’s shoulders tightened. It was nice.

  “Yeah…” He shuddered. “I didn’t mean to, though. I’m pretty screwed but if I’d wanted to off myself, I wouldn’t have chosen to freeze to death.”

  “Screwed?”

  Mason rolled his eyes. He did not want to talk about it. There was a Christmas movie on, a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner next to the TV, and the entire cabin looked warm and cozy. And Mason was feeling cozy too. He’d have to deal with his life in a few days, but for now, he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been so damn gullible.

  “My ex liberated me of just about everything I owned.”

  “I’m sorry.

  “And I’m stupid.”

  Otho shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

  “No, really. Only way I could’ve been blinder would’ve been if he’d gored my eyes out.”

  “I’m the same way.”

  Mason widened his eyes. “Your ex took your money, sold your car, and got you thrown out of your home too?” Damn, being snarky wasn’t the way to act. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. Otho’s face turned blank, his gaze that had held so much warmth before went guarded, and he focused on the TV.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached for Otho’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry? I’ll go fix something.” And, just like that, Otho rose from the sofa and shattered the winter fairytale. Why did Mason always have to be stupid? Otho had done nothing but be nice to him.

  * * * *

  Otho moved around the kitchen—his small, safe, lovely kitchen. He’d made it the way he wanted it. Everything was as it was supposed to be. He’d built the home he needed, and he didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to share his hopes and dreams with anyone.

  He brought out plate after plate from the refrigerator—the turkey, the Christmas tree-shaped breadsticks, the Brussels sprouts, the prime ribs, the salmon, and the rest of the Christmas food he’d made.

  He began preparing the garlic roasted carrots Joslyn liked, the herb-roasted potatoes, and the goat cheese sweet potatoes he wanted to try when there was a knock on the door.

  Joslyn didn’t wait for him to open, she never did, just stepped right in. “Hi, sweetie!”

  Otho went to greet her and caught
Mason staring at the two of them. “Joslyn.” Otho nodded. “I take it you’ve met Mason already.”

  “Yeah, the computer guy.” Mason filled his lungs to respond but Joslyn waved a hand at him before he could. “Is that food I’m smelling?”

  “I was starting—”

  “Great, I’m starving.” She went past him into the kitchen and sat on one of the two chairs by the small kitchen island. Otho reached for a wine glass and fetched a bottle from the pantry to pour her some.

  “Thank you, dear.” She gripped the glass with her delicate fingers now adorned with several rings. She took them off when she was working, but, as soon as her shift was over, the bling came back on.

  Before stepping away from the table, he glanced out into the living room to make sure Mason was okay. He couldn’t see his face, but the blanket was tucked snugly around him. Otho smiled, his chest going warm at the sight.

  Joslyn huffed a sigh. “So, have you proposed yet?”

  He glared at her, but he couldn’t work up the energy to do it properly.

  “Oh no, you have, and I missed it.” She faked a shocked gasp and touched her hand to her mouth.

  “I haven’t done anything.” Otho turned back to the potatoes—potatoes understood him.

  “Good, good. We’ve trained for this, remember?”

  He ignored her.

  “I’m serious, Otho, no more broken hearts because you think he’s the one.” She made air quotes.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lyn. I fished him out of the river. I know he’s not here for me.”

  “They never were and yet you gave them your heart in five minutes flat.”

  Otho growled. “Do you want food or not?”

  “I want food.” She grinned and took a sip of her wine. “But, I feel it’s my duty as your best friend and the one in charge of picking up the pieces when things go to hell to remind you that just because someone smiles at you, it doesn’t mean they want to get their happily ever after with you. It’s why you moved out into the middle of nowhere—to reduce the number of cute guys smiling at you and you falling head over heels, remember? Men are bastards and they’ll take advantage of anyone they can, you need to be careful.”

  This time Otho glared. “Are you done?”