“Hopping is dignified?”
It’s a good point, unfortunately. I close my eyes and take another deep breath.
“I accept my fate,” I tell him, and he nods once.
“Good,” Gideon says. He lets my hand go, shoves his gloves and flashlight into a coat pocket, and then there’s a shoulder in my stomach and an undignified squeaky grunt escapes me as I’m lifted in the least sexy configuration offace down, ass up.
“Try not to move too much,” he says, and grabs the handle of my backpack as well.
“Kay,” I manage. I maintain the position in dignified silence as he crosses the fifty feet to the truck, opens the door, and flops me into the passenger seat, where I do my best to wriggle upright, though the nylon sleeping bag is very slippery and that becomes its own challenge.
Without speaking, he hops up next to me and leans over, one hand planted on the seat next to my thigh, his torso practically draped over my legs.
“Hi,” I say at the sudden contact.
“I’ll get the heat going,” he explains, and ah, yes, there’s the jangle of keys as the engine turns over. “Forgot the bolt cutters, be right back.”
The passenger door shuts and I’m alone in the truck, in a sleeping bag, with the engine and the heat going as Gideon disappears into the dark, and I do my best not to think about—well, anything. I try not to think about how cold I am. I try not to think about what a good opening for a horror movie this would be. I try not to think about the fact that my rescuer isGideon Bell, twenty years older than my memories of a barefoot kid on sunny summer days. I try not to think about the fact that I knew it was him, fifty feet away, in the dark, in a snowstorm.
Instead, I focus my energy on wriggling around until my arm is poking out of the face-hole so I can turn the dome light on and get back to work on the knot from hell.
I make zero progress before the back door opens and Gideon tosses my backpack in, then climbs into the driver’s seat and looks over at me.
“I think I’ve almost got it,” I tell him, inaccurately.
“Looks the same.”
“Positivity is important,” I say, wondering if I should use my teeth. “Haven’t you readThe Secret?”
Gideon snorts, which is probably the response that question deserves, but he leans in again and then his face is inches from mine. I can feel the cold air leaking off him and then the first blush of warmth: pink nose and pink cheeks and pink lips, moss-green eyes, long, pretty eyelashes. A short dark beard and dark hair that’s just long enough to start curling at the ends, slashes for eyebrows. I wonder if they still express every thought that crosses his mind, or if he’s learned to control them. I’m still trapped in a sleeping bag and probably suffering from hypothermia and it’sobviouslyall my imagination, but still.Still.
“Hold on,” he says after a long moment, then grabs both sides of the zipper and tugs in opposite directions. Nothing happens.
“I did try that,” I say.
“I think it’s fucked.”
“Is that the technical term?”
“Technical enough,” he says, leaning back so he can reach into a pocket. “C’mere.”
I flinch back when he opens a knife and reaches for me.
“It’s for the cord, not you,” he says, disbelievingly.
“It’s a surprise knife!”
Gideon closes his eyes for a moment as if gathering patience, and I subtly shift back to where I was as best I can. It’s hard, because I’ve started shaking, suddenly colder than I was when I was outside.
“Andi,” Gideon says. “I need to use a knife to cut the cord on your sleeping bag so you can maneuver out of it and buckle yourself safely into this truck before we attempt a journey through a snowstorm, which is only getting worse the longer we sit here and fuck around.”
There’s a blunt edge to the way he says it, matter-of-fact and clipped like he’s reading out safety instructions to a group of tourists. To strangers.
“Sorry. Do it,” I say, and I’m trying not to shiver but I can’t help it and the more I try to control it, the worse it gets.
Gideon’s eyes flick to mine. He pauses. His grip on the knife shifts, a tiny movement I wouldn’t notice if we weren’t this close.
“I’ll be careful,” he promises, deep and soft and gentle, cutting through the white noise of the truck engine and the heat on full blast, and… it works. Despite everything, I’m soothed.
