* * * *
Otho helped Mason back into bed. He couldn’t believe he’d run, naked, in the snow. Sure, confusion was a sign of hypothermia, but to run outside without a stitch of clothing?
The ambulance would arrive any minute now—or so he hoped. He’d rushed into the resort, straight into the bar where he knew Joslyn would be. He hadn’t made much sense, but at least she’d called an ambulance for him.
His hands were shaking as he ran a hand over his wet beard and chest—at least the ice had melted. Not wasting any time, he pulled off his clothes. A shiver worked its way through him. Shit, he’d gone out on the river. His heart pounded and his fingers trembled so badly that he had trouble unbuttoning his jeans.
“Erm…what do you think you’re doing?” Mason’s hazel eyes tracked his motions with suspicion.
“Getting out of my wet clothes.”
“Oh no, you’re not.”
Otho turned to watch him, his skin was still too pale, his lips still blue. The run outside hadn’t helped matters. “I think one of us freezing to death is enough for one day.” He shoved down the jeans, wet in the front, dry in the back. He shuddered again, could still hear the ice breaking, see the snow soaking up water.
“I’m not sleeping with you. I’m in a relationship.”
Otho forced his mouth shut as he once again turned to Mason. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Otho stared. He had a naked man in his bed, and he hadn’t had a naked man in his bed in a long, long time—not that it mattered. Mason was here because he’d almost died, not because he wanted to be in Otho’s bed.
He put on dry clothes and went through his closet for a pair of warm checked flannel pajama bottoms and a sweater for Mason. “Here.” He walked up to the bed and handed the clothes to Mason, but when he tried to hold onto them, they dropped from his hands.
“Why isn’t my body working?”
“Because you took a swim in the river.” Otho pulled the sweater over his head. “The ambulance should be here any second.”
“I fell through!” Mason began shaking more than before.
“You did. I tried calling you before the ice broke, but you didn’t hear me.”
Mason stared at him. “I heard you. I turned and…” His breath caught and a look of panic overtook his eyes.
“Yeah.” Otho lifted the cover and slid in, not caring that Mason hadn’t put the pajama bottoms on yet and wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be fine, though. The paramedics will look you over to be sure, but as far as I could tell, you never lost consciousness and you’re warming up.”
“Am I?” He pushed at Otho for a second or two before accepting the embrace. “I feel colder now than before.”
“You’ll be fine.” Otho rubbed his arms, kneaded his shoulders, and tried to get the blood flowing. A vehicle turned into his driveway and Otho let go of Mason and got out of bed. “The ambulance is here.” At least he hoped it was the ambulance and not Joslyn who was too curious to stay away.
Opening the door, Otho waved at the two paramedics jumping out of the ambulance. “This way.”
One of them, a stern-looking man with graying hair, stopped in front of him. “Any dogs in the house?”
“Erm…no.” Otho frowned at him. “Why?”
“I’d have asked you to lock them into a room, you never know how animals react.”
Otho nodded, not appreciating the man’s harsh tone. “Mason’s inside. Go right through the living room, the bedroom is to the left.”
Keeping out of the way, Otho watched as the paramedics talked to Mason and looked him over.
The other paramedic walked over to Otho after a few minutes. “You’ve done well. It’s mild hypothermia, could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I saw him fall in.” Otho shuddered again.
“Good thing you did. In this cold, he wouldn’t have lasted long.”
Otho nodded. “So, you’ll take him in for observation?” He should say he didn’t know Mason, but he kept his mouth shut.
The man shook his head. “Nah, he’s not in any danger. Just keep an eye on him, give him hot drinks, not coffee and no alcohol. Make sure he’s warm.”
Otho opened his mouth to protest, but instead he nodded.
“He’s lucky to have you.” The paramedic grinned and squeezed his arm.
Lucky to have him?
* * * *
“You had to leave me nude with them, didn’t you?” Mason wished the guy, the man, the not-Santa-kidnapper would come back to bed. It was cold and his arms had been strong and solid around him. He looked like a reliable man, though Mason probably shouldn’t trust his instincts. It hadn’t gone well lately. The man was older than Mason, maybe even older than Joel, but not oldold. He looked fit, his dark hair a bit unruly, and his beard a shade darker than the rest. There were laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes and Mason had the stupid idea of wanting to hear him laugh.