“I’m not normally this much of a klutz.” Mason clung to him, his face turning pink which had to be a good sign with hypothermia and all. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the smoothest guy out there, but I’m not…clumsy.” Mason looked away and Otho had the most ridiculous notion to kiss him.
“Don’t worry about it.” But Otho didn’t let go of him, instead, he stood there, one arm around Mason’s waist, keeping him pressed against his chest. They were about the same height, Otho already knew but made a note of it anyway. Mason was a little slimmer but not by much.
“The chocolate is getting cold. Or, I mean, did you make hot chocolate?” Mason looked into his eyes.
“I did.”
“Hey, were you wearing protective glasses before?”
Fuck!“I…erm…yeah. Come on let’s get you on the sofa. I need to go out and turn off the lathe.”
“The what?”
“I was turning wood.” Otho hurried them forward.
“Sounds dirty.”
* * * *
Mason must have hit his head, maybe not hit his head, but something had happened to him while he’d taken a dip in the river. He had this strange urge to cling to Otho. Sitting next to him on the sofa with blankets over them both, the fire crackling, and the hot chocolate and holiday sweets was like being dropped into a winter fairytale, and yet Mason wanted more—he wanted to climb on top of Otho and demand he hold him.
Insanity, he could always claim insanity, but he feared it was more than that.
It was Otho’s steady gaze, his quiet calm, the warmth. He didn’t look at Mason funny when Mason moved closer, didn’t comment about him leaning against him. Joel always had, had always found Mason needy and clingy. He was clinging to Otho now, the only difference was that Otho didn’t seem to mind.
But, then again, perhaps he was being nice because Mason had taken a swim outside his house. He sighed. What had he been thinking?
“Are you okay?” Otho searched his face with those blue eyes of his.
“Thank you for saving me.”
“Any time.” Otho smiled. “But what were you doing walking out on the ice?”
“It looked…tranquil. I needed to clear my mind, and it looked so undisturbed.”
“Because no one walks on the ice of a river. It never freezes solid with the currents—” Otho shook his head. “You could have died.” The arm around Mason’s shoulders tightened. It was nice.
“Yeah…” He shuddered. “I didn’t mean to, though. I’m pretty screwed but if I’d wanted to off myself, I wouldn’t have chosen to freeze to death.”
“Screwed?”
Mason rolled his eyes. He did not want to talk about it. There was a Christmas movie on, a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner next to the TV, and the entire cabin looked warm and cozy. And Mason was feeling cozy too. He’d have to deal with his life in a few days, but for now, he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been so damn gullible.
“My ex liberated me of just about everything I owned.”
“I’m sorry.
“And I’m stupid.”
Otho shook his head. “Don’t say that.”
“No, really. Only way I could’ve been blinder would’ve been if he’d gored my eyes out.”
“I’m the same way.”
Mason widened his eyes. “Your ex took your money, sold your car, and got you thrown out of your home too?” Damn, being snarky wasn’t the way to act. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. Otho’s face turned blank, his gaze that had held so much warmth before went guarded, and he focused on the TV.
“I’m sorry.” He reached for Otho’s hand and squeezed it.
“Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry? I’ll go fix something.” And, just like that, Otho rose from the sofa and shattered the winter fairytale. Why did Mason always have to be stupid? Otho had done nothing but be nice to him.
* * * *
Otho moved around the kitchen—his small, safe, lovely kitchen. He’d made it the way he wanted it. Everything was as it was supposed to be. He’d built the home he needed, and he didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to share his hopes and dreams with anyone.
He brought out plate after plate from the refrigerator—the turkey, the Christmas tree-shaped breadsticks, the Brussels sprouts, the prime ribs, the salmon, and the rest of the Christmas food he’d made.
He began preparing the garlic roasted carrots Joslyn liked, the herb-roasted potatoes, and the goat cheese sweet potatoes he wanted to try when there was a knock on the door.
Joslyn didn’t wait for him to open, she never did, just stepped right in. “Hi, sweetie!”
Otho went to greet her and caught Mason staring at the two of them. “Joslyn.” Otho nodded. “I take it you’ve met Mason already.”
“Yeah, the computer guy.” Mason filled his lungs to respond but Joslyn waved a hand at him before he could. “Is that food I’m smelling?”
“I was starting—”
“Great, I’m starving.” She went past him into the kitchen and sat on one of the two chairs by the small kitchen island. Otho reached for a wine glass and fetched a bottle from the pantry to pour her some.