Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

Turner’s body ached as he dragged his boots toward the cabin well after dark. He’d worked himself to the bone today and he was paying for it as his body reminded him that he was a thirty year old man and didn’t recover from hard labor quite so quickly.

He had spent the day cleaning clean barn stalls, chopping wood he didn’t need and shoveling trails he wouldn’t walk all in an attempt to avoid Will and burn off the damn fire in his blood he felt every time he looked at the man.

It hadn’t worked. He still wanted Will just as badly, had to go see him now since they slept in the same cabin and, on top of that, now Turner was sore and grumpy.

He had questions that he wanted answers to. He wanted to know what in the hell Will had been doing up here on this mountain without the proper clothes, in the middle of the night during a blizzard. He wanted to know why Will would run away from such a comfy little life back in town and Will was going to give him the answers he wanted…. Or he was going to find his ass tossed back out in the snow.

Turner growled. He had to stop thinking about the man’s ass!

He threw open the door to find Will standing at the cook stove stirring potatoes that he’d obviously put on to fry. Beaux, damn traitor that he was, was sitting patiently at Will’s feet obviously waiting for whatever scraps might fall down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Turner grumbled as he stomped the snow from his boots and yanked his wet gloves off his cold hands.

“Cooking supper,” Will replied with a shrug. “I figured you’d be hungry after working so hard all day.”

Turner bristled. He didn’t want to admit that it felt nice to have someone cook him supper. He didn’t want Will to know how much it tugged at his heart to have someone waiting on him when he got done with his work. There hadn’t been anyone to cook for him or be glad to see him walk in after a long day since Peter had died.

“Next time, ask before you use my things,” he grumbled.

He was certain he saw Will’s lips twitch as the man fought back a smile, “Whatever you say.”

“What’s so damn funny?”

“Why are you such a growling, brooding jackass?” Will demanded with exasperation as he pulled the pan from the cook stove and dropped it onto the table. “I haven’t done a damn thing to you and yet you’ve been mean to me since I got here.”

“Have not,” Turner countered.

Will put his hands on his hips, “Have too.”

“I saved your goddamn life!” Turner shouted. ‘So there,’ he added mentally. The man couldn’t say that everything Turner had done had been mean.

“Yes, you did,” Will admitted. “And I’m pretty sure I thanked you for that.”

Turner rolled his eyes and grabbed two plates from the cupboard before snatching a pair of forks from a drawer. He took all this to the table and sat them down in front of the empty chairs. This cabin wasn’t big enough for two people. Turner had built it that way on purpose. He didn’t like company and he certainly didn’t want it!

He leaned past Will to grab the salt from the counter and caught the man’s scent. Clearly he’d bathed at some point today. He smelled of soap and witch hazel and Turner gripped the metal salt shaker so tightly in his fist, he felt the metal buckle slightly.

Quickly he distanced himself from the other man and sat down, “Might as well sit down and eat what ya worked so hard to cook,” he mumbled.

Will sighed and sat down across from him. They reached for the serving spoon at the same time and Will’s hand landed on top of Turner’s.

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