Chapter Eleven
Turner’s eyes flew open when something warm and wet brushed across his cheek. Beaux whined in his face and then trotted over to the door before scratching at it impatiently with his paw.
Closing his eyes again, Turner fought back a wave of nausea. His head was pounding, his eyes were burning and his throat was raw. What the hell had happened?
Very slowly he opened his eyes again. It was still dark outside and a quick glance to the clock told Turner it was four in the morning. He was lying on the floor surrounded by Peter’s things, things that hadn’t seen the outside of that hope chest in years; not since Turner had packed them all away.
Why were they out now? Turner’s body felt heavy and his senses dulled. He remembered getting into his emergency supply of whiskey out in the barn. Dammit, why did he do that? Drinking did not make him any better of a man.
He hoped he hadn’t done anything too mean to Will.
Will.
Turner had had some strange dreams in the night that he didn’t fully understand but he was clear on one thing; Will was special. Turner had known that when he’d first seen the man in that saloon so long ago and he knew it now. It was time stop pretending as if Will meant nothing to him.
Turner pushed himself to his feet, weaving side to side as dizziness assaulted his senses. He assumed that Will was asleep on the sofa, though he wondered why the lamps were still burning.
Then his confusion vanished when he saw the shattered blue lamp on the kitchen floor as well as the singed place in the rug and his fire blackened coat. The night before came flooding back him.
The whiskey, the rage at coming in and seeing Peter’s things all over his cabin, followed by throwing Will out into the night and then becoming overwhelmed with pain and memories until he’d finally collapsed and fallen asleep upon the floor.
Shit! He’d tossed Will out in the snow! Turner ran to the sofa, praying that maybe, just maybe, he had let the man back in without remembering.
The sofa was empty.
Beaux once again whimpered and scratched at the door. Turner wasted no more time. He ran for the door and jerked it open. The cold wind blasted against him, well below freezing and probably dipping down into the single digits. All Turner could do was pray he hadn’t killed the man that he had a feeling had been sent to him as his second chance at happiness.
Turner ran out into the cold, slipping and sliding as he scanned the surrounding for any sign of where Will might have gone. “Beaux, find him…” Turner whispered. “Please?” he added, his voice breaking a bit with desperation.
Beaux dashed ahead and headed straight for the barn. Turner followed closely on his heels. Beaux let out a howl at Bernice’s stall door and Turner was quick to open it.
His heart sank when he saw Will curled up in the hay. His clothes appeared damp and his entire body was shivering and shaking. Turner swallowed hard when he saw just how pale and colorless Will’s skin had become.
Pressing a hand to Will’s cheek, Turner realized he was ice cold.
“Goddammit!” Turner exclaimed.
What had he done? Shit. Had be been so blinded by anger, whiskey and sadness that he hadn’t given a single thought to this man, who he cared about a whole hell of a lot, freezing to death out here alone?
Turner scooped Will’s trembling body into his arms. The other man moaned and his eyelids fluttered but he didn’t wake up.
Turner swallowed hard, pushed aside his worry and ran to the cabin as quickly as he could without falling.
He took Will to the sofa and pulled off his damp boots and clothes. Grabbing Peter’s quilt from the floor, Turner wrapped Will up tight with it and moved him closer to the fire.
Next Turner went about stoking up the fire and adding more wood. He had to warm this cabin up.
Turner went back to Will but the man was still trembling and still felt icy cold. His lips were blue and his skin ashen. The fire wasn’t going to be enough. Without giving it a second thought, Turner pulled off his own clothes which had gotten wet with snow outside and picked Will back up. He carried the man to the bed and wrapped his long bare body around Will’s smaller, frigid one.
Turner hadn’t shared a bed with any man other than Peter and he had purposely kept Will away from this bed, hoping that in doing so, and in allowing no tenderness during their encounters, he could keep his heart to himself and not risk it being broken again…. How foolish he had been.
Turner buried his face in Will’s hair and held the shivering man’s body closer, “I’m sorry… please don’t die, Will.”
All Turner could do was pray that Will wasn’t forced to pay for his block-headed mistake.
***
Will was warm. He had no idea how he’d gotten warm, he figured he may have died and gone to hell, but at this point he didn’t care. Hell was nice because hell was warm.
He snuggled deeper into the blankets he was wrapped up in and adjusted his head on the pillow. His back met with a hard wall.. A warm hard wall. A warm hard wall that was…breathing?
Where the hell was he?
Will’s eyes flew open and he looked over his shoulder only to cry out with shock when he saw Turner there. Turner had been asleep but at the sound of Will’s noisy awakening, he too came alert and a sleepy smile pulled those firm lips up at the corners.
A smile? The man was smiling? Will had had no idea that he even knew how. And why was he smiling? Had he forgotten that he had screamed at Will, knocked him down, manhandled him and tossed him out in the snow to freeze to death!?
“You’re awake..” Turner’s deep voice washed over him, soothing his temper and calming his mind. Will snorted and shook his head. Enough of that! This man was a jackass and it was time that Will stopped overlooking that!
“No thanks to you, you son of a bitch!”
Will threw his legs over the bed and stood quickly, bringing up the quilt with him when he did so. His head spun and he swooned, nearly collapsing back upon the mattress. Before he had time to right himself two strong arms closed around him and he was pulled against a bare chest.
“Will, you need to take it more slow. You can’t be throwing fits like that,” Turner scolded gruffly.
Will scoffed. What right did that bastard have to tell him he couldn’t throw a fit after the fit he’d thrown…when? How long ago had it been and how had the two of them ended up in bed together--Will glanced at Turner and swallowed hard--naked.
“Why the hell are we in bed together? I assumed you had a phobia of anyone being near your bed.”
Turner released his hold on Will and sighed as he walked over to the sofa and grabbed his pants up off the floor., “I did.” he replied without looking at Will and Will was glad.
He was too caught up in watching Turner’s naked body move around the room to even pretend as if it didn’t excite him. Will had never seen Turner naked. Turner had never even fully taken his pants off when they’d been together.
He was a thing of beauty. Hard, broad, sculpted, built from hard work. But a complete and utter jackass. Will couldn’t let himself forget that or the hopelessness he’d felt out there in the cold and snow all alone.
“And we’re in bed together because you were going to freeze to death if I didn’t warm you up,” Turner added.
“I wouldn’t have been in a position to freeze to death if you hadn’t tossed me out of the cabin and locked me out in the cold without a second thought,” Will spat.
Turner paled as he buttoned his pants and met Will’s gaze. Will saw something in those dark eyes that he had never seen in them before. Tenderness, concern and regret.
“I know that,” Turner whispered. “And I’m damn sorry.”
“Sorry?” Will blustered. He didn’t want to admit that Turner’s heartfelt and sincere apology plus his more tender actions were having an effect on him. “How long did you let me lay out there before you came and got me?”
Turner put on his shirt and boots and then shook his head, “I got you. You’re not dead. That’s all that matters,” Turner insisted as he crossed the floor back to Will and gently pushed a lock of hair from his brow. “You’re still here with me.”
Will shook his head and jerked away from the man, “Only until the snow melts,” he warned. “Then I’m gone.”
Turner shrugged, his eyes becoming just a little more predatory, “Or you won’t be.”
“I will be!” Will insisted. “I’m the kind of person who likes to laugh, talk and enjoy life, Turner. I don’t like brooding and feeling sorry for myself. I take the bull by the horns and do whatever it takes to be happy. I damn sure don’t have time to tip toe around and walk on eggshells in hopes that the man I’m living with doesn’t come storming in the door, drunk off his ass and decide to try to kill me.”
“I said I was sorry about that,” Turner repeated, his throat working hard as he swallowed.
“Maybe that’s not good enough.”
“We had something before….” Turner insisted.
Will wrapped his arms around himself protectively, “Well that’s done now, not that it was anything special in the first place. You used me just the same as those men in the brothel.”
Turner looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them they were lit with determination.
“I messed up,” he admitted. “Terribly, and it nearly cost you your life but I’m gonna win you back, Will. I can be a good man and I got a good week and a half before you’re going anywhere. You’ll be mine again before it’s over.”
With that Turner opened the front door and was gone, leaving Will to wonder just what the hell the next week and a half held in store for him.
A/N: dun dun dun.... Let the real romance begin :)