“God. Can’t see a thing,” she muttered, moving closer to his side.
“And it’s only going to get worse. Getting worse,” he said looking around. He would never have seen her if it had been falling this hard when he’d first come outside.
“Shit.” She stumbled and Nash tightened his grip, yanked her against him to steady her. The obviously reluctant,“Thanks,” she muttered made him smile.
“No problem.” And it wasn’t. He’d help her any way he could weather she wanted him to or not.
As they trudged through the thickening snow he was grateful he’d cleared the path around the house before the snow started. He knew there was nothing under the blanket of white that could tripped either of them up, but he held her tighter to be sure she didn’t slip.
And with her plastered to his side he discovered something he hadn’t noticed before. She was shaking.
He tucked her closer and asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just really cold. I think that fall soaked me through.” Her voice held a slight quiver, her words a little slurred.
Glancing down he saw her uniform was a darker shade down the full length of her right side, and her pants were wet from above both knees. That didn’t bode well.
“As soon as we get inside we’ll get you dry and warmed up. I’ve got a pot of stew on the stove and there’s plenty of hot water for a shower. You can borrow some of my clothes after you get out of your wet uniform.”
He pushed away the thought of Laura in one of his shirts and nothing else. As much as he’d love to see her in his clothes, especially if it was after she’d spent the night in his bed, she’d need more than a single shirt to stay warm even though he was able to keep the three rooms he’d blocked off to live in at a comfortable temperature.
“H-how do you s-still have p-power?” she asked, teeth chattering now. Her lips had a blue tinge to them too.
“Generator.” He picked up their pace, thought about picking her up, but discarded that idea because he really liked his balls were they were. Although if she stumbled again he’d say fuck it and pick her up regardless of her protests whatever shape they took—verbal or physical.
“Huh.”
“First thing I hooked up. Along with closing off the parts of the house I don’t need.”
She stayed quiet, her shaking getting more and more violent, and he all but picked her up when they hit the small porch in front of the kitchen door. It demonstrated how cold she was when she didn’t argue with him about being plastered to his side with her feet off the ground.
Shouldering the door open, he ushered her in and closed it behind them, throwing the deadbolt. Not that he expected anyone to come in uninvited but the catch was a bit dodgy and the last thing they needed was the wind to blow it open and let the cold air in and precious warmth out.
The room they entered was large, designed to hold a big farm table on the opposite side of the kitchen island from the huge double cooker that sat in the middle of a wall of cupboards behind which hid a butler’s pantry he was using as a utility room. He’d foregone the table in favor of a couch and TV. If he didn’t stand at the island to eat, he sat in front of the TV.
Only one door led out of the room. Behind it was a spacious bedroom with connecting bathroom. The rooms made up the total of his living quarters. He figured the bed/bath combo used to be the Innkeepers quarters when the place was still operating as one.
Whatever it was used for it made it easy to section off this part of the house and gave him more space than he’d had in the small apartment above Della’s the last few years.
He didn’t bother removing their outerwear before carrying Laura to the bathroom. Once there he helped her take off her backpack and placed it on the floor. “Let me grab a towel and some clothes while you get out of your jacket and boots.”
Not wasting time, Nash grabbed a pair of sweat pants with a drawstring waist, a long sleeved thermal and one of his thickest hoodies. Snagging a towel from the basket of clean laundry in the corner of his room he entered the bathroom to find Laura hadn’t moved.
Her face had drained of all color except those blue lips and her large hazel eyes—eyes that were dazed with cold and fatigue—and he knew they didn’t have time to fuck around.
Hypothermia was a real possibility. He had to get her out of those wet clothes and warm before she got worse.
“C’mon. You need to get those clothes off.” He didn’t bother waiting for her agreement, at this point they were past that, and he wasn’t about to let her stubbornness make the situation a deadly one.
He had no idea how long she’d been out in the elements before he’d seen her on his final check before he locked down to wait out the storm.
If he’d been a few minutes earlier or later…
Shoving that terrifying thought away, he stripped her of her jacket and tossed it through the doorway into the bedroom. He’d deal with her wet gear after he got her into a warm shower. He had to clamp down on every thought outside of getting her warmed up.
He ignored his hands on her, his fingers undoing the buttons on her police issue shirt, and he disregarded the skin-tight thermal that left nothing to the imagination he uncovered beneath it. When he got her down to bra and panties he concentrated on getting the shower running and not the smooth pale skin with all its sleek lines and curves.
“Will you be okay now?” he asked, his gaze anywhere except her naked flesh.
