Chapter Five

Turner’s body ached as he dragged his boots toward the cabin well after dark. He’d worked himself to the bone today and he was paying for it as his body reminded him that he was a thirty year old man and didn’t recover from hard labor quite so quickly.

He had spent the day cleaning clean barn stalls, chopping wood he didn’t need and shoveling trails he wouldn’t walk all in an attempt to avoid Will and burn off the damn fire in his blood he felt every time he looked at the man.

It hadn’t worked. He still wanted Will just as badly, had to go see him now since they slept in the same cabin and, on top of that, now Turner was sore and grumpy.

He had questions that he wanted answers to. He wanted to know what in the hell Will had been doing up here on this mountain without the proper clothes, in the middle of the night during a blizzard. He wanted to know why Will would run away from such a comfy little life back in town and Will was going to give him the answers he wanted…. Or he was going to find his ass tossed back out in the snow.

Turner growled. He had to stop thinking about the man’s ass!

He threw open the door to find Will standing at the cook stove stirring potatoes that he’d obviously put on to fry. Beaux, damn traitor that he was, was sitting patiently at Will’s feet obviously waiting for whatever scraps might fall down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Turner grumbled as he stomped the snow from his boots and yanked his wet gloves off his cold hands.

“Cooking supper,” Will replied with a shrug. “I figured you’d be hungry after working so hard all day.”

Turner bristled. He didn’t want to admit that it felt nice to have someone cook him supper. He didn’t want Will to know how much it tugged at his heart to have someone waiting on him when he got done with his work. There hadn’t been anyone to cook for him or be glad to see him walk in after a long day since Peter had died.

“Next time, ask before you use my things,” he grumbled.

He was certain he saw Will’s lips twitch as the man fought back a smile, “Whatever you say.”

“What’s so damn funny?”

“Why are you such a growling, brooding jackass?” Will demanded with exasperation as he pulled the pan from the cook stove and dropped it onto the table. “I haven’t done a damn thing to you and yet you’ve been mean to me since I got here.”

“Have not,” Turner countered.

Will put his hands on his hips, “Have too.”

“I saved your goddamn life!” Turner shouted. ‘So there,’ he added mentally. The man couldn’t say that everything Turner had done had been mean.

“Yes, you did,” Will admitted. “And I’m pretty sure I thanked you for that.”

Turner rolled his eyes and grabbed two plates from the cupboard before snatching a pair of forks from a drawer. He took all this to the table and sat them down in front of the empty chairs. This cabin wasn’t big enough for two people. Turner had built it that way on purpose. He didn’t like company and he certainly didn’t want it!

He leaned past Will to grab the salt from the counter and caught the man’s scent. Clearly he’d bathed at some point today. He smelled of soap and witch hazel and Turner gripped the metal salt shaker so tightly in his fist, he felt the metal buckle slightly.

Quickly he distanced himself from the other man and sat down, “Might as well sit down and eat what ya worked so hard to cook,” he mumbled.

Will sighed and sat down across from him. They reached for the serving spoon at the same time and Will’s hand landed on top of Turner’s.

Turner tensed and his dark eyes met Will’s green ones over the table. He fought the sudden urge to knock the potatoes to the floor, drag Will’s body over this table and bury himself inside the man…..

Maybe isolating himself on this mountain for the last three years hadn’t been the best of ideas.

Turner broke eye contact and shook Will’s hand off before piling potatoes onto his plate. He didn’t look up as he began to eat and heard Will filling his plate as well.

The silence was deafening and not comfortable in the least and that just pissed Turner off even more. He had loved silence before Will had come along…. Okay, so only since Peter had died, but still! This man was throwing a wrench in the organized routine life that Turner had been living for three years.

“Did you suddenly run out of conversation starters?” Turner questioned, remembering the way Will had insisted on attempting to make conversation every other time there’d been silence.

Will shrugged and swallowed the potatoes in his mouth, “A man has to know when to fold his cards, I reckon.”

Talking about folding cards reminded Turner of the times he had watched Will in the saloon. Will had been a talented poker player and a great dealer. It had been clear he’d loved doing it. He’d been all smiles, laughs and good humor. That had been before he’d gone to that brothel….

“Why the hell were you running around wearing next to nothing in the middle of the night during a blizzard?” Turner demanded suddenly. “Who in the hell are you running from?”

Will choked on the bite in his mouth and spent the next several seconds coughing loudly before staring at Turner with wide eyes, “Why do you think I’m running from somebody?”

Turner snorted, “Because you were living one hell of a comfy life at that brothel. Something must have happened to make you leave all of that so suddenly you didn’t even grab a coat.”

He saw Will’s face pale. The other man pushed his plate away and stood slowly. His hand was shaking as he pointed a finger at Turner’s face, “Don’t you dare act as if you have a single clue what my life was like in that place, you son of a bitch.”

Turner frowned, “What was it like?”

Will shook his head, “I don’t owe you any details about my life. You’ve had your mind made up about me since I got here. This cabin is small but how about we do our best to avoid one another until I can finally get the hell out of here?”

Turner stared at Will’s retreating back with shock as the other man went to the sofa and flopped down upon it. Turner felt about two inches tall and he could practically feel Peter smacking him in the back of the head.

Beaux snorted and trotted over to the fire before curling up in his favorite place in the floor and laying down.

Great! Now even his dog was mad at him!

Turner stood slowly and walk to the sofa, “You worked in the brothel, Will, and you had plenty of customers. You seemed to have it pretty good there.”

Will kept his eyes closed as he lay on the sofa with his hands behind his head, “Looks can be deceiving.”

Turner looked his body up and down. Thinner than he remembered but still so damn tempting. Long legs, a flat stomach and shoulders that were just broad enough to prove he’d known hard work in his life. His face looked so innocent as he lay there with those freckles glowing in the firelight and his blond hair laying across his brow.

“You weren’t working for Thompson by choice?” Turner asked very slowly.

Will frowned, his eyes still closed, “Why does it matter?”

Turner’s eyes nearly bugged from his head. Why did it matter?! It mattered because he wanted this man with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long damn time and the only thing holding him back was the thought hat Will was a whore by choice! If Will had been held prisoner by Thompson that would change everything and make the next few weeks a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Can you just answer my damn question?!” Turner demanded.

Will rolled over and buried his face in the back of the sofa, “I sure as hell ain’t the man you seem to have it in your mind that I am,” he mumbled. “And I ain’t talking about this anymore.”

Turner decided to let it go for now. He had been an ass to Will for no good reason. He could have been satisfying the primal urges this man brought out in him and instead he’d been bristly at best.

That would all change. He was going to have Will writhing beneath him in pleasure real soon.

A/N: Really getting into these characters now! Can't wait to get more of this story written! More heat next chapter, promise!