Page 18 of Recipe for a Curse

Chapter 8

Iworked through the kitchen cleaning and set up food for Rio. I sliced up a loaf of bread and dug out the stack of cold cuts I kept on hand. In reality, my tiny studio kitchen was not as well stocked as the manor. Since I ate most of my meals at the manor, it made sense. Though since the fire earlier in the year that had taken out the kitchen and eventually brought Zach to the house, I’d kept my supplies up a bit more, enough to feed everyone in the manor for a few days at least. If it was coming near its due date, I’d bring it to the manor and use it there. So far, my planning had worked well.

When Rio stepped out of the bathroom in gray sweats and a loose T-shirt, I sort of did a little prayer to everything holy because… um wow, those sweat pants hid nothing, including the fact that he obviously wasn’t wearing underwear.

I forced my gaze upward to his face. He’d cleaned up the beard and his hair was pulled back with a hair tie. He looked tired now. A bit on the gaunt side, which made me want to cook something for him, instead of offering sandwiches. But he crossed the room, padding over the hardwood in fuzzy white socks to my side, where he looked longingly at the sandwich tray I’d built him.

“Oh, this is for you,” I told him, sliding the tray across the counter. “And fresh bread.” I had sliced up a whole loaf of sourdough. “Let me just get the bed ready.”

Rio blinked at me, then looked toward the couch, which was a fancy sort of futon. I felt heat rise in my cheeks.

“It’s bigger than it looks, I promise. Plenty of room for both of us.” I glanced back at the futon. It had always seemed huge to me. But maybe Rio didn’t like the idea of having to share a bed with another guy. I really wished I could read him better. “I could sleep on the floor, I guess…” I shuffled across the room to pull the bed out. Though once it was stretched to its capacity, there really wasn’t much left of my living room space. I could maybe cram myself in a corner or something.

The pile of blankets stuffed in the chest made a giant mound on the bed. I began laying them out. Most were king-size, since I sort of liked to wrap myself up in them like a burrito. When I glanced back at Rio he was focusing on the food and not my tiny domestic hovel. Maybe he would have been more comfortable in the manor? Though that would have meant waking some of the staff to find bedding and stuff.

Once everything was laid out, I turned back to the kitchen to find Rio’s eyes on me. That gaze did a lot of things to me I really hoped he didn’t notice. “Um… so…”

“We can share,” Rio said. “Just…” he paused as if unsure what to say. “I sometimes have nightmares or trouble sleeping. I don’t know how much sleep you’ll get.”

“Oh. I’m a pretty hard sleeper. Is there anything I can do to help you sleep? I could make you some tea. Sean has given me an amazing blend that zaps me right out.”

Rio shook his head. “Having a full stomach helps.” He glanced down at the tray and seemed startled to find it empty. He looked away. “Sorry for eating so much.”

“Don’t worry about that. I have more. Those containers on the counter behind you are full of cookies. And there are probably a couple dozen moon cakes in the fridge. A few blocks of cheese too. The only other meat in there is the uncooked bacon, but I can fry that up for you if you want.” I admit it was a bit odd that he’d gone through the two pounds of meat I’d set on the tray, but I could only imagine how hungry he was after being out in this cold for a while. Could he even eat the canned food we brought him? Had it been frozen solid?

I pulled back the blankets on the bed and crawled in, the weight of the pile warm and thick, heaven on my still cold toes. Rio approached slowly, again seeming afraid that he’d startle me. But I patted the spot beside me and reached across to pull up those blankets. “It’s a warm nest, I promise. Nothing better on a cold night than lots of blankets and sleep.”

He glanced around as he approached. “Do you need me to turn off lights?”

“No, they are on a remote,” I said as I picked up said remote from the bedside table. “Do you need something left on?”

He hesitated a minute, glancing at the window, then said, “No.”

The blinds were shut, blocking out the bulk of any light that would come through, though I hadn’t drawn the blackout curtains. I’d probably regret that in the morning, but if it helped him sleep, I was okay with that.

He crawled in beside me, slow and careful, not getting too close, but curling himself beneath the blankets. I hit the button for the lights, plunging the room into mostly darkness. All I could see was the vague outline of my stuff after my eyes adjusted. But the heat of the blankets and my exhaustion began to tug me down. The side of the bed Rio was on, was the side I normally faced, and I was too tired to change it. He was several inches away, but close enough that I could sort of feel the heat radiating off of him. Was he feverish?

For a few seconds I worried about the ongoing pandemic and if he’d caught it somehow being out in the middle of nowhere on his own, but Zach had ensured we kept up with the science, so I knew that wasn’t possible. If he was sick, it would be the cold that had done it. Hypothermia? I didn’t know much about it.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. “Sick or anything? I have some aspirin.” Though I recalled he said he ran warm.

“I don’t have the virus,” he said softly. “Never sick. Not anymore.”

“Are you warm enough? I could run over to the manor and get more blankets.”

“It’s okay, I run warm. Your blankets are nice. Soft. Fuzzy. Sort of like fur.”

“It’s all fake,” I promised quickly. “I’m not into killing animals for that sort of thing…” Probably one of my most awkward bed conversations.

Rio gave the hint of a laugh. “Plastic beasts are okay though.”

“I’m all in for recycling. Upcycling too,” I agreed.

He gave that husky chuckle again, turning me on in ways my tired brain had no way to really deal with. Fuck, the whole one bed thing was always much sexier in stories. But I didn’t think he wanted me all over him. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“My feet,” I admitted. “Not as bad as when I got you inside. But that sort of cold lingers. I’ll be fine after some sleep.”

He rolled over those last few inches, close enough now that the heat of him began to thaw something in my gut I hadn’t known had been frozen. He even tucked one of his feet between mine. Warmth began to tug me down to sleep.