Like it or not, my good deed of the morning had morphed into something more.
I’d never set eyes on this guy in my life and yet over the past few hours, I’d volunteered to shovel his fucking car in his driveway and rescued his ass from near frostbite. Sure, I always tried to help where I could, but this was a lot. And the snowstorm added another element.
This stretch of Belvedere was usually busy, but now…it was ghostly quiet. Just the odd vehicle on the road. Which meant that for all intents and purposes, I’d somehow becomea caregiver to a stranger with hypothermia. No. I couldn’t be responsible for him.
“I’m going to take you to the clinic. They can treat you for?—”
“No,” he interrupted. “No f-f-fucking way. I don’t want to be a headline, and I’m fine.”
“A headline?”
“F-football.”
“Uh…”
“I’m f-fine. Cold and stiff, but…” A lock of wet hair fell across Silas’s forehead as he shifted to face me. “If you could give me a ride, that would b-b-be great.”
This was just the beginning of the storm, so wherever he went was where he’d be for up to twenty-four hours. He’d definitely be more comfortable at his buddy’s cabin than the clinic, and while I was no nurse, I knew that getting warm and dry was the key.
“Yeah, okay. Seat belt.”
Silas snickered, and yep…he sounded deranged. “Can’t do it.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I reached across the console, pulled on the strap, and secured it. I buckled my own, and carefully inched the truck onto the slick road.
Eddie Money serenaded us about two tickets to paradise for less than half a mile before the airwaves were clogged with static. I silenced the radio, turned the windshield wipers up to maximum speed, and drove like a fucking snail through near whiteout conditions.
A few inches of snow had fallen since this morning on Red Oak Lane. I slowed in front of Silas’s driveway but quickly decided he was better off at my house for now. I didn’t want to waste time searching for blankets or clothing. Silas was broader than me and maybe an inch taller, however, I knew I had a pair of sweats that might fit him…and some long johns too.
I eased the garage door up, parked, and hurried to the passenger side to help Silas. He’d become Frankenstein again—every little move was gangly and awkward. I breathed a sigh of relief the moment we were inside the house, where it was warm and toasty.
“Where am I?” Silas asked, his bottom lip trembling with cold.
“My place. Let’s get you dry. Take your clothes off. I’ll grab a pair of long johns for you and make a fire.”
“Yeah…okay.” He didn’t move a muscle, and it took less than a second for me to realize that he couldn’t.
“Shit.” I rubbed my jaw in frustration, then guided him into the living room. “Sit on the coffee table. That’s good. Now give me your foot.”
He obeyed. “Sss cold still, huh?”
“Better than outside. Your sneakers are toast. Remind me to yell at you later for attempting to walk home in this mess.” I carefully rolled his wet socks off, wincing at his deathly pale skin that verged on blue. I pulled a throw blanket from the arm of the sectional sofa facing the hearth and wrapped his feet in it. “We’ve got to get you warm.”
I started a fire, put water in the electric kettle, and raced upstairs for towels, a blanket, and extra clothing. Silas had unzipped his jacket, but the effort exhausted him.
He stared at the embers sparking to life, sparing me a curious once-over as I dropped the supplies onto the floor next to him. “You’re back.”
“Yep. Time to strip out of the wet stuff,” I said, tugging his coat sleeves off his arms. With his help, I removed Silas’s sweater and T-shirt and handed him a pair of long johns. “Put these on. They’ll keep you warm.”
“Long John Silver.” He snickered with his head stuck in the fabric.
I yanked it down, my fingernails trailing along Silas’s muscular abs. Christ, he was big all over and built like a god—toned, taut, and defined. Simply put, the man was hot. Don’t judge. You’d have to be lacking a pulse not to notice. I was alive and well, and…I appreciated the human form.
But I wasn’t a creeper. His golden skin was already decidedly pale, and my touch seemed to have triggered a new bout of goose bumps. “Sorry, but your jeans are soaking wet. Take those off too. Do you need help?”
“N-no. I can do it.”
He couldn’t. His fine motor skills were shot, and he needed to get warmer faster. I cranked the heater while Silas fumbled with his belt and returned to stoke the fire till it was blazing.
