Page 2 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

I glanced down at the expensive leather, now partly coated in mud and thoroughly ruined. “You should take your shoes off. And probably the rest of your clothes. ”

My cheeks burned. Not all men would take to that suggestion.

Archer pulled his wet shirt away from his rather impressive chest. Broad and sturdy.

“I was hoping to use your phone to call for help.” He glanced around as if finally seeing his surroundings.

“How do you have power? The tree that fell across my SUV also seemed to take out the power line. Or at least the line to my house.”

Ah, that explained quite a lot. “I hope you weren’t in the SUV.”

“No, waiting out the worst of the rain in the new place. But the gas isn’t hooked up, so I didn’t have a fireplace or heating. I was about to give up and brave the elements when the tree crashed down across my vehicle. Is that normal?”

The man was entirely too calm for someone who’d just lost his ride. I would’ve been in a panic at this point.

Before I could answer, he continued. “I saw your lights, and I headed this way. My phone’s dead. Didn’t plug it in last night.” A rueful eye roll. “By the time I realized, the storm was upon me, and I figured I’d plug it in for the drive home.”

Fair enough . I’d once or twice hit ten percent power, but I’d never gone below.

I needed to be reachable at all times. In case something happened to one of the kids.

I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t reachable and something happened.

Of course, whether anyone would bother to call me was a whole other matter.

“My power did go out. But I have a backup generator that kicked in.” I snagged the wet towel. “I would offer to drive you to civilization—”

“I can’t ask you to do that—”

“Which is appreciated because I can’t drive at night.

” I fingered the towel. “Look, why don’t I grab you some dry clothes?

They’re going to be small on you, but I have a couple of oversized things.

” From back when I was a much bigger guy.

I was still several inches under six feet, but my beefy muscles were definitely gone.

I was no longer the hearty and powerful man I’d once been.

“I hate to impose. If I could just—”

Another bolt of lightning.

He grimaced. “Are storms up here always this bad?”

I squinted. “Lightning and thunder? This time of year? Rarely. Windstorms that knock over trees that take out power lines? Frequently. Look, I appreciate you want to leave, but for the moment, I think you should stay put. We don’t know what other trees have fallen and that’ll make the drive treacherous for whoever tries to get up here to help you.

The storm will eventually pass—” I hope .

“—and you’ll be able to get rescued. Or, come morning, I can survey the damage and, if it’s not bad, drive you back down the mountain myself.

” My car wasn’t all that great, but she was reliable.

I’d installed winter tires last week, so we’d be safe.

And the truth was this storm could last for a couple of days.

Reprieves were likely, but timing them could be tricky.

“You’re right, of course. Asking someone to take that risk is unfair.” Archer ran his hand through his hair. “I’d appreciate some dry clothes.”

“Right.” Focus. “I’ll be right back.”

With reluctance, I headed upstairs to find sweatpants and a hoodie that’d fit.

Well, the pants would be way too short, but at least they wouldn’t be too tight.

I nabbed socks and another towel. When I returned downstairs, Archer had removed his socks and had padded over to the fireplace, holding out his hands to the heat.

Lucky was gazing up admiringly at his apparently new friend.

Archer turned as I came down the stairs. “I hope this was okay.” A shiver ran through him, and he grimaced.

“Of course. You should strip right now.” I dropped the clothes on the couch. “Are you hungry? Do you need food? ”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

Ha, he hadn’t actually turned down the offer. “I was planning to make some soup and crostini bread.”

“Soup.” Archer’s eyes shone. “Soup sounds amazing. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

“Well, let me get that started.” I pointed to the clothes. “Hopefully they’ll fit.”

The other man pulled at his shirt. “Anything is preferable to this.”

I nodded and made my way over to the galley kitchen. I opened the cupboard and selected mushroom soup. Oh, crap. I headed to the pass-through. “Do you want hummus and…”

In the mere moments it’d taken to locate the soup, Archer had removed his shirt and was pulling off his pants.

My cheeks burned. “I am so sorry.”

He frowned. “I love hummus. But I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Trouble? No trouble. I’ll just go chop some veggies and leave you alone.” I pivoted and fled.

Back in the kitchen, I struggled to turn on the gas burner on the stove. Then I fumbled while opening the can of soup. I managed to dump it into the pot without spilling, but as I sliced the bread, I damn near sliced my finger.

You need to calm down. He’s just a guy.

A guy in need of help. A guy who was to be the new neighbor. A guy whose muscles gleamed in the firelight, and who was the most attractive man I’d seen in a while. A long while.

You’re responsible for his well-being. Focus on getting him fed.

He’s probably straight.

A truer statement had probably never been uttered. What were the odds that a gorgeous man would show up on my doorstep and be single, let alone gay? I was pretty easygoing, but attached men were off-limits, and I never looked at straight men as anything other than friends.

And I needed a friend right now.

Not to say that he and I were destined to be buddies. The issue of the construction still existed. And although he didn’t seem the type to throw lavish-and-loud parties, I couldn’t be sure.

As the soup heated, I put the bread in the oven to warm, then set about chopping carrots and celery. I wasn’t a fan of celery, seeing as the thing was mostly water, but some nutritional information had stuck with me, and I’d grabbed some when I’d last been to town.

Archer appeared at the door, soggy clothes in his arms. “Might I borrow your dryer?”

I would’ve preferred not to use that much power, but I didn’t have the heart to say no. I’d conserve in other ways. I nodded and indicated with my shoulder that the man follow. When we arrived at the laundry room, he appeared ready just to toss everything in.

“This will ruin the suit.” I fingered the expensive wool fabric.

A quick shrug. “I’m pretty sure the water already did that. Easily replaced, so no worries.”

Easily replaced? This suit had to cost more than I made in several months of work.

Back when I’d be working. These days? Probably a year’s worth of disability payments.

Still, I had no standing. If the suit was easily replaced, and Archer obviously had the money, who was I to make a fuss?

I opened the dryer door, then took each item individually, methodically checking all the pockets. I looked up and he offered a wry smile.

“I pulled out my wallet and cellphone. Both are wet, but likely to survive. ”

“Good. I mean, that’s good. You said the phone doesn’t have power? I’ll see if my cable will fit it.”

A lock of hair fell across his brow, and he brushed it back.

I longed to touch. To run my hands through the damp strands. Would they be as soft as they looked? Would he lean into the touch and smile seductively?

What is wrong with you?

This man was here, under my protection, and all I could think was how very long it’d been since I’d touched someone. Anyone. I turned on the dryer and indicated he should lead the way out of the claustrophobically tiny room.

As predicted, my clothes were woefully inadequate.

The sweatpants were several inches too short, although, to compensate, he’d pulled up the wool socks.

An adorable but truly geeky look. The hoodie barely reached his waist and looked uncomfortably tight.

As he moved, he left me with the most wonderful view of a perfect ass.

Oh my God, get your mind off his body.

Whether or not the guy was attractive, wasn’t the point.

I sniffed the air. I pushed past the massive man and made a beeline to the kitchen. I opened the oven and reached for the oven mitts, then pulled out the tray and dropped it on the stovetop with a clatter.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

More slowly, I turned off the oven and closed the door. I examined the bread. Singed, but not burned. Okay, well, good enough.

“Do you need assistance?”

I yelped. Then I pressed a hand to my chest. I pivoted.

Archer held up his hands in an I mean you no harm gesture. “Or I can go and wait. I was just trying to be supportive.”

“Uh…” I scanned the space. I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and put the vegetables and container of hummus on it.

I could’ve put it in a pretty bowl, but who the fuck cared?

My goal was to get the too-attractive man out of the minuscule kitchen.

The man’s presence filled a room easily, while I barely made a wisp of an appearance.

I shoved the plate into his waiting hands. “I’ll bring the soup and bread out in a minute. We can eat on the sofa facing the fire or at the dining room table, you pick.” With great effort, I turned back to the bread. Do I need to scrape off the singed part? Nope, it’d be okay. Crispy, but okay.

He’d disappeared.

Glancing into to the great room, I discovered he’d made the choice by placing a plate on the table.

I headed back to the kitchen, plated the bread, and returned to the dining room.

Archer sat politely, hands in his lap.

“Please begin. I’ll have the soup in, like, half a second.” I dropped the plate with the bread onto the table and made my way back to the kitchen. Dishing out two bowls of soup took mere moments, and I returned to the adjoining room.

Drinks.

Damn.

“Will water be okay?”

A quirked eyebrow. “Do you have some whisky?”