Snowbound (2 page)

The cop reached up and flicked on the overhead light. The tip of Hayden's nose burned as the heat swarmed over it. His lips stung. He turned his head to look at the cop and saw the man's eyes were golden-green, fringed with lush lashes. His lips were supple and pink.

"You've got a bump." The cop gestured to Hayden's forehead.

"Yeah. It's okay."

"What's your name?"

Hayden swallowed, tried out his numb jaw. "Hayden Berry."

"Okay, Hayden. I'm Deputy Sheriff Dylan Hubble. Where are you going to?"

"Wyoming. Rock Springs."

"Hmm. Well, I'll tell you now, every hotel in town's full for the annual Iceman Festival."

What? Ice
man? Hell, Hayden was sure he could have competed in that himself if he'd stood outside much longer.

"So you can have a cell for the night, or my spare room I guess. I'll get a tow truck to come out in the morning."

Taken aback, Hayden stammered a little. "T-that's very kind of you."

"What, the cell?"

"No, your—"

"I'm kidding." Dylan grinned, showing teeth neat and white. He flicked off the light and pulled out around Hayden's car. "Okay then, Chez Hubble it is."

Hayden sat in silence as they drove down the lonely road, turning off after a couple of miles.
I really would have frozen to death out there.

Dylan drove slowly down a long, winding road into the heart of a small town. Hayden watched shops and cafés go by, a couple of bars, a gas station. Then Dylan turned onto a dirt track and the car bumped over ruts and gouges. It had been recently ploughed but the falling snow was making short work of that.

Dylan pulled onto a driveway and shut off the engine. "Here we are." He got out and Hayden followed him, carrying his bag.

The deputy's house was a cottage, rather quaint with a white picket fence and small front yard. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would live in a house like this. Perhaps he lived with his grandma.

He opened the door and flicked on the hall light and then stood to one side taking his boots off. Hayden banged his feet on the step and entered, standing on the mat while he took his own boots off.

"Let me take your coat."

They stood close in the cramped hallway. Hayden pulled his gloves off to unzip his parka and his fingers were clumsy and uncoordinated.

"Come here." Dylan unzipped him and pulled the jacket off his shoulders. Their eyes met before Dylan turned away, hanging his coat up, pulling his hat, gloves and scarf off. His hair was short and a glossy, chestnut brown.

Hayden watched as Dylan slid the thick snowpants down long, strong legs. He couldn't help but assess the bulge revealed in the tight regulation uniform pants below. The deputy sheriff was all man, and a fine figure of one at that. That same uncoiling of heat blazed through Hayden's belly. His thoughts disturbed him.

Dylan took the coat, hat, and gloves from his hand and led the way through to the living room where he crouched to light the electric fire. "Sit here and get warm. I'm just going to get changed."

Hayden silently wished the cop would stay in uniform. He knelt down, huddling close to the growing heat. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, followed by walking overhead of him, then the banging of a closet door. He glanced around. No photos, no sign of another half or a grandma.

Dylan reappeared in jeans, which continued to advertise his bulge just right, and a sweater. Even without the bulky parka, his shoulders and chest were broad and muscular. "Want some tea?" he asked.

"Sure."

"How?"

"Milk, no sugar."

"Coming up." Dylan disappeared into the kitchen and clattered about. "So, Rock Springs. You're a long way from home, boy."

Something about the use of the word boy rankled Hayden. He was sure he was the same age as the deputy, even if his fresh-faced looks put him as younger. "Yeah," he muttered. "I don't even know where I am."

"You're in Blackstone, at the ass-end of South Dakota, population five hundred and fifteen."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, that's most people's reaction."

Hayden stood up to save from calling through the door. He went into the kitchen, hovering by the table as he watched Dylan making tea.

"So what are you doing here?" The cop asked.

"I went to a wedding reception in Minneapolis. Got on I-90 to come back through South Dakota to Wyoming. There was an accident at Spearfish so I got off the highway to cross the border."

"And went in the opposite direction toward Montana. You'd have been better taking I-35 into Iowa and coming back across Nebraska on I-80."

Smart ass
. Hayden said nothing.

Dylan brought two mugs to the table and motioned to Hayden to sit. "I can't promise we won't be snowed in by morning. You might be looking at an enforced stay in our little town." Dylan picked up his mug and took a sip. Hayden glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring.

"I hope not. I have to be back at work on Monday."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a dentist."

Dylan laughed a little. "I figured you had to be. You have great teeth."

Hayden blushed unaccountably. The cop's were fabulous too. He'd just love to open his mouth and have a good look inside at his molars. He wondered how many fillings Dylan had and if he'd ever worn braces. This line of thought was slightly weird and he knew it. The cop's eyes were golden in the glow of the kitchen lights. His face was pale and very closely shaved. He was perhaps the most stunning man Hayden had ever seen in his life and Hayden didn't tend to look at men. At least not that he would ever admit. But if Dylan walked down the street in Rock Springs, Hayden guessed he might have fallen over himself to get a closer look. He would have at least offered him a free dental check-up.

"So, I can give you a check-up in exchange for the bed," he joked, except not really.

Dylan grinned. "I'm good, thanks. I just had one last month. See? No fillings." He opened his mouth wide. Hayden nearly shuddered in delight at the two perfect sets of back teeth presented for inspection. Truly Dylan was as beautiful inside as he was outside. Every tooth was present and correct, neatly lined up in place, plaque and tartar free, no fillings, wisdoms erupted and fully formed. Marvellous. This man clearly didn't put junk in his mouth or he was very lucky.

"Anyway, what were you doing eating chocolate in your car? Are dentists supposed to eat chocolate?"

Hayden smiled wryly. "No. They're not supposed to consume the vast quantities of wine I consumed over the weekend either."

Dylan smirked. "Everyone's allowed a treat." He got up. "Let me get dinner started. Is mushroom risotto okay for you?"

"Sure, but don't go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble. You're still shivering. Go upstairs and take a shower. Or a bath if you want; there's plenty of hot water. Towels in the cupboard, I'll leave you some pyjamas outside."

Hayden stood. Dylan was generous in the extreme. "Thanks."

"No problem."

****

The bathroom was cosy and warm. It didn't have a lock on the door but Hayden wasn't too concerned. He chose the bath. While it was running, he stripped off and hung his damp pants over the towel rack to dry. He added some scented oil to the water and swirled it around.

A small tap came at the door. "PJs outside."

"Thanks." He listened to the footsteps retreat down the stairs before he relaxed. This was all kind of surreal. He was supposed to be at home in the next few hours, tucked up and instead he was taking a bath at the Deputy Sheriff of Blackstone's house and thinking illicit thoughts about him.

He climbed into scorching water, sighing in bliss as he sank beneath it. Hayden had thought about men this way before, since his late teens, but had always sublimated the urge to do anything about it. He had never had a man and never would, as far as he was concerned, and over the last few years, he thought he had successfully beaten away the thoughts. At least until tonight when Dylan had demanded his attention.
Damn him
.

Was the deputy gay? Hayden hadn't noticed anything amiss in those golden eyes, anything which might indicate interest. Which was for the best. Now was not the time for Hayden's libido to sit up and take notice.

He glanced around the bathroom. Electric toothbrush standing in the holder together with toothpaste. A manual one by its side. Was that Dylan's spare for when his batteries went dead or did it belong to a significant other? The products crammed onto the side were all male and there were plenty of them. That pointed to Dylan being gay in itself even if Hayden was somewhat stereotyping him. Straight men used moisturiser too, didn't they? He certainly did.

Hayden sighed. He took some soap off the edge of the bath and lathered it up, washing himself over his shoulders and under his arms. He lifted his right leg, soaping it, looking at the scar which wound around his calf from knee to ankle, pale pink, squashing and misshaping his leg, the scar which had been part of him for the last seven years.

He rested his leg back down. Under the water it didn't ache as much. Still, though, he could have done with some painkillers out of his bag and the amitriptyline, which he took only at night, the one that knocked him out into the heaviest of sleeps.

He closed his eyes, letting the silence in the house overtake him, and the vague clatter in the kitchen below wash over him.

CHAPTER TWO

Hayden jerked awake to a tap on the door. He'd fallen asleep. "Hope you haven't drowned in there. Dinner in five."

"Thanks." Hayden stood up. He grabbed the nearby towel off the sink and rubbed his upper half before he climbed out. His leg gave a twinge of pain when he was too brisk with his drying. He borrowed a sly roll of deodorant from the stick on the window sill and then wrapped the towel around his waist to open the door. Pyjama bottoms, T-shirt, thick socks and a robe were draped over the banister outside. Hayden plucked them free and retreated back inside to dress.

He let the water out of the tub, rubbed the damp hair at his nape and flicked the light off.

Something smelled good downstairs. A steaming dish of risotto sat in the centre of the table along with a salad and an open bottle of wine, two glasses already poured. Hayden nearly salivated. He didn't know what he looked forward to more, the food or the alcohol. First things first, though. He went to his bag, which sat next to the couch, and retrieved the bottle of pills from the top. He shook two into his hand. Then he entered the kitchen.

Dylan glanced up at him from where he stood grating parmesan cheese. "Just in time."

"Mind if I get a glass of water?" Hayden showed what he held in his hand.

"Sure." Dylan reached a glass from the overhead cupboard and handed it over.

"Thanks."

"Leg still troubling you?"

Hayden ran half a glass from the tap. "Yeah. Not as bad after the hot bath, mind you." He swallowed the tablets down and took his glass to the table.

"That's good. What happened, anyway?" Dylan brought the cheese over to the table and took his place. He gestured to Hayden to serve himself.

Hayden took the spoon from the risotto and piled food on his plate. "Car crash when I was eighteen. I nearly lost my leg."

Dylan shook his head. "That's terrible. You must live with constant pain."

"I do. I recently had nerve decompression surgery. I'm supposed to wear a brace to help with the foot drop, but it's not my bag." He grinned. "Way too unsexy."

Dylan smiled gently. His golden eyes were soft with empathy. Hayden knew it was laughable that the deputy would ever be interested in him and his deformed leg. He took some salad, gulped some wine, and then started eating.

"So whose wedding was it?"

"A guy I went to college with. He married another guy in Canada last week where they live. Came back home for the reception."

Dylan smiled, a crooked little smile that made him look schoolboyish and his eyes glitter with green sparks. Hayden's stomach clenched in that familiar way again. He told himself the heat spreading through his limbs was the wine.

"That's great."

"Yeah." At least Hayden had established one thing—that the deputy sheriff wasn't homophobic. In a small town like this, he had expected it to be the opposite. He relaxed a little. Dylan wouldn't perhaps see his long history of illicit desires as something to cast him into the pit over, although having them directed at
him
might change Dylan's mind. He needed to get himself under control. The guy was beautiful, but he was off limits. Why do something about it now when he never had in the past? He had obligations to rein in his desires.

He tried to spark up some more conversation. "Do you always invite strangers to stay the night?" Wrong thing to say. He felt himself blushing.

"Only ones I like the look of."

Hayden paused mid-chew. His cheeks flamed further. He stared into Dylan's eyes, trying to gauge the meaning of his words. Dylan seemed unconcerned at his provocative words. He poured Hayden some more wine.

Hayden was wrong-footed, unsure. His palms became clammy and his heart beat faster. "H-how did you know I wasn't a serial killer?" He cursed the sudden stutter.

"I'm a good judge of character."

"You didn't even ask to see my ID."

Dylan regarded him. "Are you trying to convince me you're a sinister, untrustworthy guest, Hayden?"

"No."

"Then relax." Dylan carried on eating.

A loud clatter from the far end of the kitchen startled Hayden. A large black-and-white cat entered via a cat flap, paused to shake snow from its fur, then sauntered across the room, aiming for Dylan's legs, winding himself around them before stopping to eye Hayden carefully.

"This is Boots," Dylan said. "I don't get much company so he's probably shocked to see you."

This little tidbit about company made Hayden happy. Perhaps no significant other called around or stayed over. He put his hand down. "Hey, Boots."