Body and Soul (Twist of Fate, Book 3) Read online

  Having met Aunt Lolly and her wrinkly boyfriend myself this past summer at the Labor Day picnic, I knew Lucky hadn’t been exaggerating. I’d practically stumbled over the older couple as they’d been skinny dipping in a small pond near the campsite we’d chosen for the picnic. Fortunately, I’d high-tailed it out of there with an excuse about needing to collect firewood when they’d suggested I join them for a swim.

  Yeah, calling Xander was out. As happy as I was for the man, I was still struggling with the definition of what we were. I knew he wanted us to go back to being friends, but admittedly, it was something that was proving to be a continued challenge. I hadn’t wanted to start having feelings for Xander, and I never would have acted on them anyway, but now that he knew that I’d started to see him in a different light, it just made things uncomfortable. His fiancé, Bennett, had made it more than clear that he was okay with me and Xander being friends, but that hadn’t been the issue either. I probably could have even lived with the pitying looks they sometimes shot my way.

  No, it was the rest of it I couldn’t deal with. The envy that I’d never have what Xander and Bennett did… even if it was something I wanted.

  It was just too risky. I’d come to this tiny remote Colorado town to avoid getting close to people for a reason.

  I forced myself not to think about the past and focused on navigating the narrow road that led to my cabin. The snow was starting to fall more heavily now, and I knew we’d be snowed in for at least a day or two. My thoughts immediately went to Oz. Hopefully he’d managed to pack some warm weather gear and had gotten some firewood cut and groceries bought. While our cabins were part of the town’s power grid, it wasn’t unheard of for trees to take out the lines leading up our mountain. Outages were common in these cabins throughout the season.

  Maybe I should have called Xander to make sure he’d explained to Oz how to work the generator?

  I shook my head. No, Oz wasn’t my problem. The sooner the kid figured out that he didn’t belong out here, he’d go running back to New York. He clearly belonged there.

  Shame curled through me as I remembered the way I’d talked down to him about there not being anyone to salt the icy patches for him. Having spent quite a few years living in big cities, I knew better than anyone how reliant one could get on things like plowed streets and salted sidewalks.

  So why had I been such a dick to him?

  I wanted to laugh. Was I really asking myself that? I knew exactly why I’d treated him like I had. How else was I supposed to keep him at arm’s length? With Xander, it had been easy because he hadn’t been any more interested in starting up something with me than I’d been with him, even if a small part of me had wanted to at the time. But my gut was telling me Oz wouldn’t be the same. Even if he hadn’t said as much with that joke about my package, if he looked at me even once a certain way with those stunning eyes of his or parted his plump lips just so after saying my name, I’d be all over him. Hell, I’d gotten hard just from running my hands over his body to check for injuries.

  And that never happened.

  I mean, god, I was supposed to be a fucking professional.

  Well, I used to be. Who knew what I was anymore.

  You’re a rude sack of shit who owes your new neighbor an apology.

  I rolled my eyes at my inner voice, even if it was right.

  The sun was just starting to drop behind the horizon when I rounded the last corner to the cabin, and that was when I saw it.

  My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of the black smoke billowing out the front door.

  What the fuck?

  I threw my truck into park as I practically fell out the door in my haste to get to Oz. “Oz!” I shouted as I envisioned the young man trapped by a wall of flames.

  I couldn’t see much as I rushed into the cabin, but before I could call out for him again, I heard someone shout, “Ow, shit!”

  It was Oz’s little dog that drew me to him because she started barking like crazy.

  “It’s okay, BooBear. Daddy’s okay,” he said to the dog, though I could hear the pain in his voice. I coughed as the smoke stung my eyes and the back of my throat.

  “Oz!” I shouted.

  “Here,” he responded. “I’m here,” he called. We ended up meeting in the middle and some of the smoke cleared just as I reached him. The relief was instantaneous and nearly crushing as I took in the sight of him. “Oh, thank god. Are you all right, ba—” I stumbled to a halt as I realized I’d been about to call him baby.

  Jesus.

  I grabbed his arms but regretted it when he cried out.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked, even as I curled my fingers around his upper arm and pulled him from the house. It wasn’t until we were on the porch that I could finally get a good look at him.

  “No, I’m okay,” he said. “Just burned myself,” he muttered. He sounded angry. “I’m such an idiot.”

  He was holding his arm out wrist up, and that was when I noticed the reddened flesh.

  “What happened?” I asked as I carefully led him down the stairs to the front yard, mindful of the ice.

  “Nothing, it’s stupid,” Oz said, refusing to look at me. “We’re okay now. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  He actually made a move to turn away from me. I grabbed him again, this time by his uninjured arm. “Let me take a look,” I said. I put my hand under his to support his wrist as I studied it. “What happened?” I asked again.

  Oz sucked in a deep breath. “I couldn’t get the damn thing to work,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “The heat,” he bit out as he waved at the house. “Or the fireplace.” He huffed and said, “I kept turning the temperature higher and higher but all it did was get colder.”

  “Did you—”

  “Make sure it was on?” Oz cut in. “Yes. I know you think I’m an idiot, but I’m pretty sure thermostats in Colorado work the same as in New York.”

  “I was going to ask if you checked to see if the breaker might have gotten tripped.”

  “The what?” he asked, his face falling.

  “Never mind. I can check it,” I said. “What happened with the fireplace?”

  Oz remained silent and I knew why. He’d said as much with his crack about the thermostat. He was waiting for me to pounce on whatever mistake he’d clearly made with the fireplace. I already had a pretty good idea, though. “What happened, Oz?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.

  Oz let out a harsh laugh. “I thought it was so rustic,” he muttered. “This place in Aspen that I once stayed at had a wood-burning fireplace instead of a gas one. So I thought this one would be just as easy–just light it and done. I managed to get it going and then took Boo for a quick walk because she was doing her thing, you know?”

  “Her thing?” I asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

  “Her dance… her piddle dance. When she has to piddle, she—”

  “She does a dance,” I said with a smile. “Got it.”

  Oz seemed to relax a bit. “Anyway, I took her outside, and it always takes her a while to find the perfect spot so by the time we got back, the cabin was filled with smoke. I tried calling Xander, but he didn’t answer, and my friend Zoey didn’t know but she googled it and asked me if I’d opened the flue. I didn’t know what that was and she told me how to find it, so I reached up to feel for it and when I got it open, the fire just kind of jumped up and… bit me.”

  He tried to tug his hand free. “It’s okay, I’ll be okay now. I appreciate you coming to check on me.”

  I could tell he was embarrassed, and I didn’t blame him. I’d already jumped down his throat twice for similar mistakes. “I once put oil in my father’s gas tank,” I blurted when he once again tried to escape me.

  “What?” Oz asked in surprise.

  I nodded. “I don’t know shit about cars, so when my dad asked me to add oil to his car while I was at the gas station getting it filled before we hit the ro
ad for our annual trip to Chicago to go to ZooLights–that’s where they have Lincoln Park Zoo all lit up for the holidays–I did it. About thirty minutes into the journey, the car started spewing black smoke and sounding weird. Then it just died. When my dad asked if I’d added oil, I told him I had. You can imagine my surprise when he went to look under the hood instead of the gas tank and started talking about the oil I’d added being all gone.”

  Oz’s frown turned into a smile. “Really?” he asked.

  I nodded and dropped my eyes to his wrist because there was something about looking at him that was fucking with my head. I liked when he smiled like that–all soft and warm and sweet.

  “Was he mad?” Oz asked. “I mean, kids make mistakes, right?”

  “I was twenty-two,” I interjected.

  Silence for a beat, then the hum of soft laughter. I risked a look at Oz and saw that his cheeks were flush with color. My body responded accordingly.

  And it was a brutal reminder that I couldn’t have this.

  “Let’s go back to my place so I can get a better look at your burn,” I said. “We’ll let some of the smoke clear, and I’ll come back and get the furnace going.”

  Oz must have sensed my change in mood because his voice was quiet when he said, “Are you sure? I’m really okay. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  He was most certainly a bother, but not in the way he thought. “It’s fine,” I said. I knew my tone was too clipped, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d do what needed to be done and get him fixed up, then send him on his way. And everything in between was just noise.

  Because it had to be.

  I didn’t give Oz a chance to respond as I took his arm and led him to my cabin. I felt my stomach drop out as soon as he crossed the threshold, because it felt like I’d just done something stupid by letting him into my private sanctuary.

  Really stupid.

  And the last time I’d done something stupid, someone else had paid for it with their life.

  Chapter 3

  Oz

  Jake’s cabin was god-awful. Like, devoid of all humanity awful. There was nothing in it that wasn’t dusty, navy blue, black, or gray. Even the art on his walls, what little there was of it, was black and white photography. I felt like I’d stepped into a setting for a film noir or something.

  “Wow… you, ah… lived here long?” I saw an old brown leather sofa on the left side of the front door and a plain wooden table with two chairs on the right. Since it appeared to be the mirror image of the one I was staying in, I assumed the cabin had a single bedroom and bathroom in the back. An open-topped wooden crate of some kind sat against the wall by the front door and held various outdoor gear. I recognized ski boots, a large backpack like campers used, and some snowshoes. I’d always wondered if snowshoes were a real thing or just something from the movies. I guess I had my answer.

  “Little over two years,” he said, reaching past me to flick on the light switch. One stark overhead fixture blinked on and made the room look even less appealing than it had before.

  “Oh. Well, you’re probably just not much of an indoor type, then. Don’t spend much time here?” I wandered over to the mantel over the fireplace in search of something, anything, personal. There was nothing. Only two half-burned-down pillar candles on an old dinner plate with a half-empty pack of matches next to them. There was a metal bucket on the hearth with newspaper and small bits of firewood in it. A huge stack of books sat piled up on a small table in the corner of the cabin.

  “Just like to keep to myself.”

  I didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t answered my question, and I couldn’t help but think his words were a warning of some kind. But three days without any kind of human conversation and I was a desperate man. Not to mention talking meant maybe I’d keep from drooling over the gorgeous creature as he worked to get the fireplace going.

  “So what is it that you do out here?” I looked pointedly at the outdoor equipment piled up in the corner. “I take it you spend more time outside than in.”

  I couldn’t help but hear that way dirtier in my mind than I’d meant it, and I tried not to snicker.

  “During the summer I spend much of my time outside guiding camping trips and adventure expeditions, but in the winter… Well, I read a lot,” he explained reluctantly. Once the fire was going, he shucked his coat off and hung it on a wooden peg mounted next to the door. After almost tripping over Boo, he cursed. “Stay out from under my feet, Cujo, or we’re going to have words.” There was no real anger in his voice as he spoke to my dog, though.

  “Hey,” I said, snatching Boo up. “That’s Princess Cujo to you.” Since her sweater reeked of smoke, I worked it off her and tossed it near the front door.

  “Holy hell, what’s wrong with her?” Jake asked.

  “What do you mean?” I turned Boo around so she could kiss my nose. “She’s perfect,” I cooed at her.

  “She looks like something a real dog ate and spit back out.” Jake approached us to get a better look at Boo. “Why is all her body hair on her head?”

  I gave him a light shove, then winced when I remembered my pained wrist. “Shut up,” I said with a laugh. “She’s beautiful. She’s a Chinese Crested. They don’t have any hair on their bodies.”

  He arched his eyebrows at me.

  I sobered as I looked down at my dog. I ran my fingers over the sparse but wild hair on her head. “People always either value her for her unique appearance or reject her because she’s not what they think she should be… none of them see how much more she is.” I shook my head.

  “How do you mean?” I heard Jake ask.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “She’s my friend. She’s always happy to see me, she doesn’t care if I’m too skinny or too fat or if I’m in a bad mood or crazy busy with work.” I paused and then finally looked up at him. I was surprised to see he’d closed the distance between us considerably. “She may not look beautiful and perfect on the outside, but I assure you, that’s all she is on the inside.”

  I was surprised when his big fingers came up to stroke over Boo’s head. She growled a little, her wary eyes on him, but she didn’t snap at him like I was expecting.

  “Well, Princess Cujo, it seems I stand corrected,” he murmured. He was talking to the dog, but his eyes were on me, and I felt a shiver run through my body. We held there for what seemed like the longest time before he said, “Have a seat and let me look at that burn. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No thanks, I’m good.” I put Boo down and made my way over to sit at the table, glancing toward the small kitchen visible through an arched doorway. I saw one utilitarian white dishtowel draped neatly over the oven door handle. The counters were spotless and there wasn’t a single dirty dish to be found.

  Jake shuffled past me to retrieve a black canvas tote bag from a cubby under the counter. When he returned to the table and opened it, I saw it was an extensive first aid kit, the type an EMT worker or doctor might have on hand.

  “Get lots of injuries up here?” I said in an attempt to keep things from getting awkward… not to mention I kind of hoped talking might also keep me from reaching out and grabbing him by the back of the head and laying the mother of all kisses on him. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d wanted someone this bad this fast.

  “Mm,” he grunted. His fingers rifled through the bag in search of specific items until he found what he was looking for. He opened a gauze package and a bottle of sterile water before sliding on a pair of gloves.

  Within moments, Jake had a cool, wet compress held gently against the burn on the inside of my wrist.

  “I’m such an idiot,” I muttered. “I’m sorry I’m so high maintenance. I really can take care of myself, you know.”

  “Is that right?”

  My eyes jerked up to glare at him, but I realized he was smiling at me–teasing instead of judging. His eyes were a unique kind of gray that seemed to vary with his mood. Right now, they were soft like t
he silver of an early morning frost. Quiet. Intense. Promising.

  Okay, maybe I was making that last one up. I was quickly realizing the guy was about as open and friendly as an underripe pineapple.

  I let out a breath. “I guess what I meant to say is… I’d like to take care of myself. You don’t have to feel like I’m some helpless kid who needs you to come running every time I—”

  “Almost burn your house down?” He looked up from the compress and raised an eyebrow. “Run your car off the road? Slip and fall on the ice because you’re wearing goddamned ballet shoes?”

  “I’ll have you know those were Karl Lagerfeld Vans,” I corrected. “His take on the vintage checkerboard design is a classic.”

  “I don’t know what half those words mean,” Jake said, removing the compress and opening a tube of some kind of salve. “I’m putting on a hydrocolloid dressing that you’ll have to replace in a few days. It should keep the burn from getting infected, but if you see any redness coming from under the dressing or you start to run a temperature, come find me, okay?”

  His hands managed the cleanup and bandaging as if he’d been doing it all his life. Jake’s movements were efficient right up until he stripped off his gloves and threw them and the bandage wrappers in the trash. But once he returned to the chair next to mine and took my arm in his hands again… the touch changed from utilitarian to… something more.

  Or maybe that was what I wanted to believe. God, I hoped he didn’t notice the tremors that were coursing up and down my arm. I studied him for several beats, but he seemed completely oblivious.

  Damn. Straight as a fucking arrow.

  Just my luck. I was finally feeling something more than just a little bit of meaningless lust and I wouldn’t even get the chance to explore it.