Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Hmm.” More nibbling. “What do you do at the mill? Did I ask that already? I forgot.”
“You did. That’s okay. I run the mill for the owner. Hank doesn’t know some of the more hands-on aspects of the job, so I’m his liaison.”
Silas twisted slightly, holding his grilled cheese in midair while his thorough once-over lingered at my chest. “You mean the job of being a lumberjack?”
“Technically, we’re loggers…not lumberjacks.”
“I like lumberjack better,” he said offhandedly. “Is there a difference?”
“Lumberjack is more of a cultural reference. You know…a guy with an axe, chopping down trees in his plaid flannel shirt. We don’t use axes to chop down trees.”
“But you still wear the shirts.” Silas gestured meaningfully.
“True.”
“The lack of axes is disappointing. Don’t tell me robots do all the work n-now.”
I fixated on his mouth as he bit into the crust. I wasn’t perving on the guy…I swear. I was more concerned that his jaw was clacking again and his lips were too pale. Not blue, but not quite right.
“No robots. Just a lot of sophisticated machinery. It might not be as exciting as—I don’t know…playing professional football, but it can be interesting. In a Jeopardy category about trees, I’d kick your ass.”
Silas’s laughter was a tad hoarse, but his eyes sparked with real amusement. “Dude. You’d kick my ass at any c-category of Jeopardy. I’m no g-good at trivia.”
“I’m not either. I know what I know.”
“Trees.”
“Mmhmm.” I handed him the thermos. “Try the tea now. It’ll be good for you.”
He obeyed. “Same. I know what I know…or knew.”
“Football.”
Silas made a noise that I thought might be a mumbled agreement but could have been mistaken for a whimper. “Yeah.”
“Must feel strange to be retired before forty,” I ventured after a long silence.
He narrowed his eyes. “Forty? I’m thirty-six. Do I look forty?”
“I said before forty.”
Silas was on a roll. “Shit…don’t tell me. I don’t want to know that I’m a fossil.”
I chuckled. “Hey, I’m forty-one.”
“You look forty-one. A good forty-one. You know…well-preserved.” His lips twitched. “Can I say that?”
“No, you can fuck yourself.”
“As soon as the sh-shivers stop, I will.” Silas flashed a naughty half smile.
“Okay…TMI.”
“Dude. We’re practically besties now. You almost had to hold my dick in the bathroom.”
“Jesus,” I grumbled, gathering our dishes as I stood. “Can I get you anything else? More soup? Water?”
“No, thanks. I feel like I just peed and I have to go again. I’m feeling better, so I might as well g-go back to my place.”
I huffed in dismay. “You’re still shaking like a leaf, man. You can’t be on your own yet. Just—here. I’ll show you to the bathroom and put your wet clothes in the dryer. And do some more googling about your condition.”
He nodded, seeming too zapped of energy to argue as I helped him up and led him to the powder room.
“I got it from here,” he mumbled, bracing a hand on the door.
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to offer to hold your dick.”
“Again,” Silas teased, his gaze slipping south to my crotch. Not just a lingering glance, either.
That made no sense whatsoever. In fact, it was undoubtedly a classic case of wishful thinking on my part.
Actually…scratch that. I wasn’t interested in Silas. Not that way.
I tossed his jeans, socks, and underwear into the dryer and while I waited for him to finish up, I reread the passage about hypothermia.
Things to watch for: Shivering, pale skin, slurred speech, clumsiness, exhaustion.
Remedy: Remove wet clothing, warm the core, hydrate, skin-to-skin contact.
I’d tried everything but the last one. If he didn’t improve immediately, this already odd situation was going to get truly weird.
Shit.
CHAPTER 5
COOPER
Unfortunately, nothing improved.
Twenty minutes later, the wind picked up, violently blowing snow across the lawn and the surface of the lake. The temperature dropped to single digits outside, and the local weather experts indicated that the storm had just begun.
And Silas was still shivering, covered in a heavy blanket by a raging fire.
“Listen, we need to stabilize your body temperature and warm your core.”
“How?” Silas slouched against the sectional, his eyes drooping. Poor guy looked exhausted.
I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed. “Body heat. It might sound unorthodox, but they say it works. We have to try it.”
“Uh…’kay.”
That was it?
All righty, then. I yanked my sweater off, stripped to my boxer briefs, and lay on the mattress in a flurry of movement while a dumbfounded Silas squinted incredulously.
“C’mon,” I urged, patting the empty space beside me.
“Oh. You want to c-cuddle.”
“No, I don’t want to cuddle,” I grumbled. “But we have to do something. C’mere. Lay next to me. We can put a towel between us for the sake of…”
“Avoiding a sword fight?” he offered.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah…that. Take your shirt off.”
He needed a little help dragging the snug long-john top over his beefy pecs. “What about the bottoms?”