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  “You can take a shower to get warmed up if you want to. There’re more towels in there, and I’ll leave the sweats by the door and go make us some coffee.”

  Paul’s smile lit up his face, and Jeremy felt another blush coming on. The guy really was adorable… and hot. Had he mentioned hot?

  “You’re a saint, man, really,” Paul said, shaking Jeremy out of his preoccupation with the man’s hotness. He really shouldn’t dwell on that particular subject. They weren’t on a date. Paul was only there because he was stuck there, and Jeremy needed to remember that before he made an ass of himself mooning over a stranger who was probably straight as the day was long.

  Days are a lot shorter in the wintertime, though, his brain supplied unhelpfully.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, be downstairs if you need anything else, and there’s a guest room right next door if you feel like lying down.”

  When Paul gave him another grateful smile and closed the door to the bathroom, Jeremy rushed to get the sweats and then to tidy up the guest room. He wasn’t a slob and the room was relatively clean, but he used that room as a dump zone for the boxes of his mother’s stuff that he didn’t know what to do with, so it was a little disorganized and cluttered.

  By the time he’d finished, he heard the shower come on and images of what Paul might look like naked under the spray were starting to creep into his head. Jeremy decided he really needed to go downstairs and make some coffee before his brain supplied any other unhelpful thoughts, like when was the last time he’d actually gotten laid?

  Chapter Two

  Paul stood under the hot spray of the shower until he felt warmed all the way through. He hadn’t been cold in the car, but after struggling to loosen the lug nuts for what seemed like forever and then taking a dip in that icy puddle, he’d felt frozen nearly to the bone. At least Jeremy had been wearing a puffy nylon winter coat, so he hadn’t gotten quite as soaked as Paul had and Paul didn’t need to feel guilty about using up all of the guy’s hot water.

  It was a little weird showering in a complete stranger’s bathroom, but Paul had been just cold enough that he didn’t care, and Jeremy seemed like a pretty cool guy. He’d saved Paul’s butt and then gone out of his way to make sure that he was okay. If that didn’t make him one of the good guys, Paul wasn’t sure what would.

  When his skin felt like it might melt off if he stayed any longer, Paul got out of the shower and dried off. When he peeked outside the door, he found a set of faded sweats and a pair of socks neatly folded on the floor. He grabbed the pile and got dressed inside the bathroom, grateful and a little surprised that they fit pretty well. Jeremy was about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but he was a lot slimmer than Paul, and Paul had been a little worried that he’d look like a sausage stuffed into a too-small casing in the guy’s clothes. Thankfully, though, his host seemed to like his sweats a little on the loose side, so they fit him just right.

  It was also a little weird wearing a stranger’s clothes, but Paul guessed he could handle it for the time it took to have a cup of coffee and maybe run a load of laundry, if Jeremy didn’t mind. He was alive and well, as well as dry and warm, all thanks to Mr. Jeremy Porter, so he wasn’t going to let a little weirdness get in the way of being a good guest.

  Paul smelled the coffee before he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he followed his nose to the kitchen. Jeremy was standing next to the sink, watching the snow falling outside. He’d also changed into a pair of sweats that were indeed baggy on his slender frame. The pants actually hung pretty low, clinging precariously to the man’s narrow hips, and Paul took a moment to appreciate the small stretch of exposed skin between the waistband and the lower edge of his sweatshirt before clearing his throat to let the man know he was there.

  Jeremy turned and smiled at him. “Feel better?”

  “Much. Thanks.”

  As Jeremy went to the cabinet and reached up to pull out a couple of mugs, Paul let himself ogle Jeremy’s ass and legs while his back was turned. The sweats didn’t exactly do the guy justice, but Paul had a thing for long legs and tight little butts, which he could just make out the shape of as the material stretched across Jeremy’s backside. Paul remembered seeing a road bike in a corner of the living room while he’d waited for Jeremy to come back, and he could just imagine the lean muscle that probably corded those thighs and calves. Bikers always had the best legs.

  Paul shook his head and laughed silently at himself. Nothing like a near-death experience to make a man horny as hell. He needed to get a grip on it, though, or he might end up out on his ass, and deservedly so. Ogling a stranger in a bar was one thing, but in a man’s own kitchen, after he’d just saved your life, was probably bad form.

  To break the silence and to get his mind out of the gutter, Paul said, “Looks like you have quite a renovation project going on here.”

  Jeremy smiled over his shoulder as he poured coffee into the mugs. “Yeah. I’ve got a long way to go, and it’s not moving as fast as I’d like, but….” He shrugged. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Just cream, please. You’re doing it all yourself?”

  Jeremy handed him a mug and gestured for Paul to take a seat at the table. He looked a little sad now, and Paul was kind of sorry he’d brought it up.

  “Yes… or at least the parts that I can. I’ll hire an electrician and a plumber for the trickier stuff, but I’m trying to do the rest myself.” Jeremy paused there, as if debating whether to say anything else, and when he continued, Paul understood why. “I was supposed to help my mom with it—she was the one with all the know-how and talent, but she passed away before we got very far, and now it’s just me.”

  “Oh jeez. I’m really sorry, man. I didn’t mean to pry.” Now Paul really felt like a jerk for stepping in it with the first question out of his mouth.

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s fine, really. This time of year’s just a little hard.” Jeremy sighed and fell silent, and Paul didn’t quite know what to say next. God, he hated small talk. Thankfully, Jeremy quickly changed the subject before things got awkward. “So how did you manage to end up on our little street here?”

  Paul smiled in relief and relaxed into his chair. “I was in Columbus for my job. I install retail point-of-sale systems, and my current contract has had me hopping all over Ohio and southern Michigan for the last several months. I was on my way home—to Indiana, Pennsylvania—when I hit the storm and the traffic. I’d left later than I wanted to because of some last-minute troubleshooting. I’d been in the car for five hours already because of the snow, and I was almost to the exit for the valley expressway when another accident blocked the road right in front of me. I was so pissed.” Paul paused and took a sip of his coffee. “Anyway, so I got off with everyone else, trying to find a way around it, and ended up going the wrong way, I think. As if that weren’t bad enough, while I was fighting with my GPS and trying to find a place to turn around, I hit a pothole that I couldn’t see because of the snow, and the tire blew. The rest, you know already.”

  “Wow. Sounds like you have had a day,” Jeremy said. His hazel eyes were wide and sympathetic behind his cute little wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Yeah. I thought the flat was a perfect cap to the perfect day, but you know the old saying: ‘Things can always get worse.’” He shrugged.

  “Yep, they can,” Jeremy said with a chuckle. “Oh, I forgot to ask, how’s your hand?”

  “My hand?” Paul asked, perplexed.

  “I saw you hurt your hand right before the Hummer showed up. Is it okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Paul had forgotten all about it. He flexed his hand a little, testing it out. One of his fingers ached a bit, but he wasn’t really hurt. “It’s fine. I just kind of slammed it into the tire iron, trying to break the nut free. It was stupid, but I lost my temper.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “Yeah, I heard.”

  Paul laughed in chagrin. “Sorry about that. It’d been a long day.” He felt his cheeks heat a little.
That hadn’t been one of his proudest moments, swearing like a sailor in the middle of the street. He’d gotten in the habit of swearing up a blue streak in the car with all the traveling he’d been doing, but he shouldn’t have done it out in the open where everyone could hear him. It didn’t exactly make a good first impression.

  “Perfectly understandable,” Jeremy said, though his lips were quirked and his eyes were still crinkled with amusement.

  Jeremy really was kind of cute, with his short dirty-blond curls and wide hazel eyes, particularly when he was smiling… and Paul really needed to think about something else because he was currently going commando and sweat-pants didn’t do much to hide a semi-hard. He cleared his throat and looked down at the mug in his hands.

  “So, uh, Jeremy, what do you do for a living?” he asked when he was pretty sure none of his thoughts could be read on his face.

  “Graphic designer, mostly webpages and business logos, that kind of thing.”

  Jeremy said it like he was a little embarrassed about what he did, and Paul couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. It sounded like a cool job to him, and when he said so, Jeremy’s eyes brightened considerably and a big smile split his face. With very little encouragement, Jeremy went on to talk enthusiastically about some of the pages he’d designed and the logos he was most proud of. He even brought his laptop into the kitchen and pulled up some of the sites to show him. Even if Paul hadn’t been interested in the subject, Jeremy’s obvious enthusiasm would have made him a convert. It was pretty obvious Jeremy loved what he did.

  Paul didn’t have a creative bone in his body. Oh, he could run wires like nobody’s business and talk people through using the systems he set up, but he’d always envied people who had real creativity, real talent, people who could create something out of thin air. He still had no idea why Jeremy had seemed embarrassed about his job to start with, so Paul made an extra effort to sound enthusiastic. Unfortunately, his body chose that moment to remind him that he’d been up since the crack of dawn that morning, and the yawn slipped out before he could swallow it, stopping Jeremy midsentence.

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “I probably told you a hell of a lot more than you ever really wanted to know about my job. I get going sometimes and don’t know when to shut up.”

  “No. No, really. I’m interested. Your websites are amazing. I’m just a little more tired than I thought,” Paul replied, putting as much sincerity into his words as he could.

  Jeremy looked a little skeptical, but he smiled as he put the laptop away. “Do you want to go take a nap? I don’t mind.”

  “No, really. I just….” Paul yawned again and then shared a laugh with Jeremy. “Okay, maybe I should take you up on that, but I really don’t want to be such a crappy guest.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Jeremy said before turning to look out the kitchen window, and Paul followed his gaze. The snow hadn’t slowed down any in the time he’d been there. There were now several inches resting on the window ledge.

  “Look,” Jeremy said, turning back to him, “the weather report said we’re supposed to get almost two feet of snow. You’re tired, and chances are the highway’s still a nightmare. You’re not putting me out at all. In fact, it’s kind of nice to have the company. So you’re welcome to stay the night and see if the roads are safer in the morning. The sun’s going to be down soon, and things are going to get icy pretty quick. I’d feel terrible if you pushed to go home and got into an accident when you really didn’t have to. Besides, I bought way too much food for just one person, so you’ll be saving me from weeks of leftovers if you at least let me make you dinner.”

  Paul looked into Jeremy’s pretty eyes and thought about what he really had to go home to. His own bed would be nice, but it was an empty bed, and the only one waiting for him to come home was his cranky old cat, Boomer, whom Cecily, his ex-wife, was currently looking after. It hardly seemed worth risking any more damage to his car or himself to push through to an empty apartment. Throw in an offer of a home-cooked meal that he didn’t have to cook himself, and Paul’s decision was a pretty easy one.

  “If you’re sure, then I won’t pass up on an invitation like that.”

  Jeremy gave him a delighted smile—one that had Paul wondering if maybe there was more to the dinner invitation than just friendly concern—and said, “I’m sure. I’m not a bad cook. You won’t be sorry. Do you want to take a nap and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll sleep after the coffee, but I wouldn’t mind lying down for a while.” The adrenaline rush he’d experienced at the near-miss on the street was definitely gone now, and Paul felt completely drained and worn out.

  Even though Jeremy had pointed out the guestroom earlier, he still chose to lead the way back up the stairs, and Paul didn’t mind in the slightest. He certainly enjoyed the view.

  He was tired, not dead.

  The guest room was small but nicely decorated with an antique double bed, matching dresser, and nightstand. The bed was covered in a thick, dark-blue velvet comforter with some kind of design stitched into it. Paul didn’t know much about that kind of thing, but it looked handmade. When Jeremy noticed him looking at it, he smiled. “My mom made it. Another one of her hobbies.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Paul said.

  “Thanks. Well, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Jeremy. This is really great of you.”

  Jeremy just smiled again and left, closing the door behind him, and Paul climbed beneath the thick comforter and promptly passed out, despite the coffee. He barely remembered putting his head on the pillow.

  Chapter Three

  Jeremy puttered around his kitchen happily while Paul napped upstairs. The excitement he felt over having Paul stay for dinner made him finally accept just how much he’d been in denial about the coming weekend. For weeks, he’d been telling himself that he’d keep busy working on the house and the weekend would be over with before he knew it. Sometimes he could be a little clueless, but his reasoning had seemed sound at the time.

  Last year, Christmas had been a bit of a blur. His mother had passed away suddenly from a heart attack only a month before, and he’d still been in that sort of shock-and-disbelief stage. He and Byron were still living together at that point, and there’d been so much for him to take care of, with funeral arrangements, probate paperwork, and responding to all the well-wishers, that Christmas had just sort of come and gone without him even realizing it.

  This year would’ve been a lot different. He realized that now that he’d been given a reprieve. This year he was living in his childhood home again, surrounded by his mother’s things, and he wasn’t too shell-shocked to fully appreciate the gaping hole where his mom was supposed to be. Staring around his kitchen and remembering all the fun times they’d had baking or chatting over coffee at that old, scarred kitchen table, it hit Jeremy how grateful he was to have a distraction, at least for a little while.

  He shook himself out of his morose thoughts and got busy putting away the last of the groceries he’d bought. He wasn’t going to be alone tonight. Paul had agreed to stay. Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time he’d cooked for anyone, but that was another thought he wasn’t going to dwell on, because it was just too depressing.

  He scanned his now full refrigerator, trying to decide what to make. He’d bought the turkey and ham for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but maybe he should make one of them tonight instead, since he actually had someone to share it with.

  Jeremy finally decided on the ham. He could always reheat it Christmas Eve if he really needed to make the house smell right. Decision made, he pulled out all the necessary supplies to make his mom’s traditional roast ham with pineapple, green beans, corn bread, and fettuccine Alfredo. The ham would take a couple of hours to heat, and the oven would warm the kitchen nicely, making his half-finished wreck of a house at least smell yummy and inviting for his gu
est.

  After he put the ham in the oven, Jeremy wandered into the living room and just stood for a moment, wondering, Now what? There was no sound from upstairs, so he assumed Paul must have crashed. Jeremy looked down at the briefcase and duffel on the floor by the couch and considered pulling Paul’s clothes out to put in the wash but decided against it. He wanted to be helpful, but rifling through the man’s bag without permission, even with the best of intentions, probably wouldn’t go over well. Paul seemed like a really nice guy, someone Jeremy could be friends with—even if the man made him think naughty thoughts—so Jeremy wanted to avoid doing anything stupid that might scare him off. He’d just have to remember to offer the use of his washing machine when Paul woke up.

  Jeremy was feeling restless, so he wandered into the dining room and looked out the sliding-glass door at his backyard—well, the little fenced-in square of dirt that passed for his backyard. The snow was probably closer to five or six inches deep on the deck now and still coming down hard. He leaned against the glass and watched the fat flakes fall for a while, feeling some of his restlessness abate. Even as a grown-up, he still loved the snow. They never got much in Pittsburgh, but when it did fall, it was worth the wait. The hustle and bustle of the city always seemed to calm when it snowed. Things got quieter, as if the whole world was muffled, surrounded in a cocoon of white. He liked to walk in it late at night and just listen to the wind and the silence. Living as close as he did to the interstate and the parkway, silence was a rare commodity, but some nights, in the snow or the rain, there were moments of virtual silence that he cherished.

  Jeremy thought about taking a walk in the snow later that night. Maybe he’d ask if Paul wanted to join him. A walk after a romantic candlelit dinner, and then a sit by the fire to warm up, sounded like heaven.

  Jeremy sighed. Yes. That’s right. He was a complete and utter sap. Old black-and-white movies, romantic walks, and roses on Valentine’s Day—he ate that kind of shit up. He would never admit it to any but his closest friends and family and he certainly wouldn’t admit it to a guy like Paul, especially since Paul didn’t exactly scream chick flick, but he was indeed a closet romantic.