Page 5 of Snowed In

DingDING!

The sound of the bell startled him. No one had been by since his last supply order which was three weeks ago. He’d forgotten about the obnoxious sound that shook him down to his bones. He raked fingers through his hair and hoped to God he didn’t look like too much of a tragic mess as he trailed a touch along the walls to the front door.

He took a breath.

DingDING!

“Håll tyst,” he murmured in Swedish, telling the doorbell to shut up. He tried for a smile, but he’d never been good at any kind of poker face. He found the knob after two tries, then twisted it and braced himself against the rush of cold that breezed in past the body he knew was standing in front of him. “Hello, Adam.”

“Hey. It’s good to see you.” Adam’s voice was a low rumble with a hint of nasal, probably from how cold it was.

Magnus quickly stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture past his body. “Come in before you freeze your balls off.”

Adam choked on a laugh. His cologne was mixed with the sharp scent of winter air as it rushed around Magnus’s face, and he felt the urge to grab him and bury his face in Adam’s neck. Which, he was pretty sure, the man would not appreciate.

His cheeks were warm as he closed the door and grimaced when his foot slid into something wet.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m dragging snow inside.”

Magnus hopped on one foot to remove his sock. He couldn’t stand the feeling of wet fabric on his feet. He misjudged his own balance and nearly fell, but two strong arms caught him. The smell was even stronger now, and he felt the warmth of Adam’s presence almost profoundly in spite of the fact that the poor man was still thawing.

He felt like the fool in the middle of a romance movie. The bullshit blind-guy inspirational kind around the holidays that made all the sighted people swoon. He’d take all the stereotypes if it meant he got a bit more of this, though.

“Thank you,” he murmured, finding actual words. He shifted away from the wet spot and braced his ass against the wall so he could take his other sock off. Luckily the tiles were heated. It was a rather luxurious rental.

“Nice digs,” Adam said after a beat.

Magnus’s brow furrowed. “Digs?”

“Uh, place to live. Sorry, I’ve been watching a lot of crappy ‘80s movies and the slang has been sticking.” Magnus could hear the embarrassed smile on his face. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch Adam’s cheeks and see if they were flushed.

“Ah. Yes, I wanted something nice over the holidays since I was going to be spending it on my own.” Did that sound like a one-man pity party?

Adam laughed quietly. “I know that feeling. Only I’ll be at some half-empty university auditorium filled with people who are disappointed to see me instead of Piper.”

Magnus didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good at this kind of banter. He wanted to tell Adam that he’d travel a thousand miles and walk uphill in the snow if it meant spending a bit more time with him. But that sounded a bit too much considering they weren’t even really friends.

Or…maybe they were? He was a terrible judge of social situations.

“Can I offer you coffee?” he asked instead. “I don’t have any food here. I needed to go to the shops, but it’s hard to get a hire car to agree in this weather.”

Adam sniffed. Was he crying? No. His nose was running from the cold. And they were still standing in the foyer. Christ, he was the worst host!

“Want me to drive you?”

Magnus quickly shook his head and turned, feeling for the wall. “Don’t be silly. You drove all this way, and?—”

“There’s a storm coming in, like, two hours if you’re lucky. Doyou have other socks? I saw a little market on my way in. It won’t take more than half an hour.”

Ah, twist his arm. Magnus tried not to smile. “Only if you let me cook you dinner.”

“You can cook?”

Magnus’s stomach twisted in the worst way. “Blind people are capable of feeding themselves, yes.”

He heard Adam scoff—not the reaction he was expecting. “So not what I meant. You’ve been in labs plenty. You have to at least smell the tragedies that we all bring in when we’re not eating take out.”

That was fair. It made sense that most of the guys didn’t get the forced culinary education the way he did. Their mothers were likely far less worried about them burning the house down—which was ironic considering they were the most likely to do it.

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