Chapter Three

“REALLY?” GIDEON asked.

Noah continued unloading groceries. From the condition he’d found Gideon and the cabin in, he’d arrived at the right time. Gideon’s supplies comprised cans of baked beans, a few frozen hotdogs, and coffee.

“Yes, really.”

“I don’t know why I said that. Usually people say it to me.”

Noah pointed to his hair and said with a wry smile, “Blond-haired, blue-eyed Jew.”

Gideon pointed to himself. “Mixed Jew.”

They shared a silent moment of understanding, neither of them fitting into the stereotype of what a Jewish person was supposed to look like.

“Are you stopping by on your way to visit your family for Hanukkah?” Gideon asked.

“No, I’ve rented a cabin another twenty miles away. I’m going to do some cross-country skiing and… just hang out. What about you?”

“No.”

The cold flatness in his one-word answer tugged at Noah’s sympathetic heart strings. Gideon continued to watch him while Noah finished putting everything away.

“You didn’t have to clean.”

Noah winced. Yes, he did. The cabin was charming, but the mess stressed him out so much he couldn’t admire it properly. Cleaning did as much to calm his anxiety as it did to help Gideon. The wall of windows overlooking the steep hillside and snow-covered lake below let in the bright winter light. The space wasn’t cold thanks to the sleek European style wood stove. Tongue and groove wood in a honey-brown shade covered the walls all the way up and over the vaulted ceiling. Black metal railing on the staircase led up to a large loft space with an enormous king-size bed and a low, long bookshelf as a nightstand. That was the biggest surprise Noah discovered upon entering the Beast’s private lair. Books. The wall next to the woodstove had a huge floor-to-ceiling bookcase built into it. There were two smaller bookcases on either side of the sofa and one that served as an end table next to a leather lounge chair. Books filled every shelf, with a mix of history, sports biographies, and mostly romances. Classics like Jane Eyre and all the Jane Austen books, including several shelves of variations of Pride and Prejudice . The books were the only thing in the cabin that was organized.

“It looked like you could use a little help. By the way, do you have an extra set of sheets? I’ll remake your bed. Your bedding is in the wash.”

“You stripped my bed?”

“I figured it’s been difficult with your leg.”

Noah saw the flash of embarrassment in Gideon’s eyes. And why did Gideon have to be so much hotter in person than on TV? Even his rumpled, unwashed bedding was sexy: forest-green cotton sheets that were as soft as satin in Noah’s hands, and a fluffy down duvet encased in a blue-and-green plaid cover. Noah could picture himself curled up under the comforter with Gideon, watching the snow fall. That was not going to happen, and Noah quickly banished the lustful thoughts that filled his mind. He was here to check in on Gideon and nothing else. Hugh had been right. His bark was worse than his bite, and Noah was glad he made the trip to check on him. Gideon was spiraling. Feeling sorry for himself and definitely not doing what he was supposed to do to take care of his injury.

With the groceries put away, Noah turned to face the Beast, ready for the challenge of what was coming next.

“Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“To let me look at that knee.”

Gideon’s mouth turned down, and a flash of defiance lit his eyes. But that was all an act. Noah could see the fear hidden in their depths. It wasn’t a career-ending injury. With proper care, he’d be back on the field. But it was a serious injury.

Noah brushed past him, rolled out the mat he’d brought, and patted it. “Come on, on your back, please. Hugh’s waiting for my report. And I’ll take all the chocolate chip cookies with me when I leave if you don’t behave,” he added when Gideon continued to glower at him.

He bit down on his lip, trying to hide his smile when Gideon muttered “Asshat” under his breath as he lowered himself onto the mat.

Noah cradled Gideon’s foot and flexed his leg, attentively observing his expression for any signs of pain. He quickly learned how stubborn Gideon was when they started doing straight leg raises. He adjusted a rolled-up towel under Gideon’s knee. “Ten reps and then you can rest. Push your heel into the floor. You need to feel your hamstrings contract.”

“I know,” Gideon said between clenched teeth.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. The tightness in the muscles around Gideon’s knees worried Noah and made him angry. Gideon should care more. Noah glanced toward the wall of windows, watching the snow flurries that had started again. Since he arrived, the snow had come and gone. There were still a few hours of daylight left, but it got dark faster in the woods, and he wasn’t happy about making the drive at night. He was a confident driver in the snow, but driving up to the cabin on the narrow twisting road with a steep canyon on one side was unnerving enough in the daylight.

When Gideon finished his last rep, Noah removed the towel and gently lowered his leg. He grabbed the bottle of massage oil he’d brought and poured some between his palms before working on Gideon’s hamstring.

Gideon threw his arm over his eyes with a groan.

“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you were taking care of yourself,” Noah pointed out.

There was no response to Noah’s gentle admonition. He should leave, but Noah couldn’t bring himself to. Once Gideon had been fed, his conscience would allow him to go. He’d think about what he was going to tell Hugh on the drive to his rental. His report would not be positive. Gideon needed to come back to Seattle, where he could get regular rehab for his injury.

He noticed the contrast of his pale hand against Gideon’s tan, muscular thigh. Until that point he’d remained professional. The sudden jolt of lust that went straight to his groin was anything but. Noah snatched his hand away. “Take a few minutes to rest while I make some lunch.”

Gideon answered with a grunt.

Noah smiled when he heard Gideon’s soft snores while he warmed up the homemade chicken soup he’d brought. The freezer contained three more containers of soup, but the matzoh balls he’d made were only good fresh. He warmed them separately in the microwave before scooping two into the rich golden broth with pieces of carrot, celery, and chicken.

He set the bowl on the small round table with his own.

“Gideon, lunch is ready,” he said softly, giving Gideon’s shoulder a gentle shake.

Gideon drew in a deep breath, his eyes blinking open. “Hello there,” he said with a sleepy drawl. He reached up with his finger and drew a line down Noah’s cheek. The moment he became fully awake, he dropped his hand and moved too quickly to get up, letting out a stream of curse words.

“Let me help you.” Noah resettled Gideon on the mat before bringing him to his feet and slowly walking him to the table.

Gideon’s nose twitched. “Smells good.”

“I’m no chef, but chicken soup is one of my specialties.”

“Who taught you to make it?”

“My mom. She insisted each of her children at least learn how to make chicken soup and matzoh balls before we moved out on our own. I was the only one who mastered the recipe.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“There’s four of us—me, two brothers, and a sister. I’m the youngest and the one who caused the most trouble.”

“That tracks,” Gideon said, shoveling a large piece of matzoh ball into his mouth.

Noah ignored the barb. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

Gideon’s spoon hovered in the air, a shadow of sadness passing over his face. “No, it was only me. My parents could barely manage one child with their lifestyle.”

“What do your parents do?”

“My dad is in the diplomatic corps. He’s a minister specializing in refugee missions.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. What about your mom?”

“She’s a doctor. She does a lot of work with the Peace Corps.”

“I suppose you moved around a lot when you were a kid.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Completely different. My dad is a lawyer, estate law. Mom is a real estate agent. My family has lived in Portland for generations, one of the first Jewish families to immigrate in the 1800s. We’re one of the oldest Jewish families in the state. I have cousins coming out of my ears. I can’t go anywhere in Portland without running into someone I’m related to. Even in Seattle I run into cousins or someone I went to camp with.”

“Jewish summer camp?”

Noah nodded. “Yup. What about you?”

“Only one summer. It was fun, but then we moved again, and I went to boarding school.”

“That must have been hard.”

Gideon answered with a noncommittal shrug.

Maybe it would help if Gideon knew about his own isolated childhood. Would Gideon have any sympathy for the hours spent with therapists and doctors? The other kids who mocked him or the teachers who said he wasn’t trying hard enough to overcome his anxiety?

“It’s a boring story no one wants to hear,” Gideon mumbled.

“There’s the story we think we know, and the real story that only reveals itself when that person believes they will be loved and accepted.”

Gideon paused, chewed a few more times before he swallowed, and asked, “What kind of new-age bullshit is that?”

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Noah took Gideon’s empty bowl and refilled it, adding the last matzoh ball. He warmed it in the microwave again before giving it to him. While Gideon ate, he washed up and started packing his equipment.

He pulled on his boots and opened the door. The snowfall cast an eerie light from the window, but when he opened the door, he had to squint to see his Bronco, parked next to Gideon’s Jeep and buried under a thick layer of snow.

Bracing himself against the cold, he dashed toward his car with his bags, cursing himself for leaving his coat in the vehicle when he arrived. A small avalanche of snow fell on Noah when he opened the back and quickly loaded his bags. He grabbed the sturdy ice scraper and started clearing the snow from the roof and windows, working as fast as he could. At least he had four- wheel drive and experience driving in the snow. He’d take his time, going slow and steady down the mountain. The new layer of snow over the existing layer crunched under his feet, and Noah wondered if he would have to put on the chains he always carried during the winter.

“You should wear a coat,” Gideon called out.

“You shouldn’t be out here in bare feet,” Noah yelled back.

For a second, it seemed like Gideon was going to argue before he turned and shuffled back inside.

Noah finished and dashed toward the cabin to get the rest of his things. Gideon had slippers on when he returned. “You should wear those or your running shoes instead of going barefoot. The support will help stabilize your knee. I’m sure the training team at the Emeralds has recommendations for exercises. All you need to do is to do them,” he said with a pointed look. “Doritos are in the cupboard. You earned them. Good job today.” The dryer pinged, and Noah glanced up at the loft, setting his bag at his feet. “Do you want me to help you remake your bed?”

“You’ve done enough. You can go.”

And there he was. Noah could see the moment the Beast appeared, the sharpness in Gideon’s tone and eyes announcing his arrival.

“Okay, well, good luck then, and Happy Hanukkah.”

Noah picked up his bag and walked away from one storm into another.