Body and Soul (Twist of Fate 3)

I slipped and grabbed the corner of the railing post, barely catching myself before falling down the stairs into the front yard. My legs and arms flailed as I ended up splayed in an awkward stance that was somewhere between standing and falling. I probably looked like a baby giraffe trying to figure out how to stand for the first time.

“Jesusfucking—”

I heard deep laughter coming from the direction of the cabin next to mine. There stood the sex god himself, holding an enormous stack of cut firewood in his arms. I took in the sight slowly and longingly without meaning to. His short dark hair was mostly covered by a black wool hat, and even though I couldn’t see his eyes all that well, I could feel their intensity. I wondered what they’d look like if the hardness was replaced with humor.

But it didn’t matter because just like that, his smirk was gone and was replaced with an intense scowl as he turned to climb the few stairs into his own place as if there was no such thing as ice and the idea of helping a neighbor up from a near-death slip-and-fall was unheard of.

“Gee thanks, asshole,” I muttered, as I used the rail to right myself.

He turned back to face me before opening his front door.

“Did you say something?”

“Yes, I said I hope your day is moving along swimmingly, you sweet, sweet considerate neighbor. How lucky I am to have landed in such a nice, welcoming place. Now go on back inside and get warm before your front porch attacks you the way mine did me. Cheers!” My words came out in the overly friendly polite voice I’d honed over years of trying to kill people with kindness. I’d learned early on that acting like a harmless, panting puppy dog was more likely to keep me safe than if I let my true feelings show. Once I realized people thought of models as vapid, empty vessels, I’d discovered giving them what they expected was easier than trying to change their perceptions.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, but I ignored him and took a step toward my front door.

And immediately lost my footing.

This time even the porch rail couldn’t save me. I hit the corner railing post hard as I went down in an ungraceful heap. I couldn’t stifle my cry as pain shot through my hip.

“Shit!” I heard someone yell.

No, not someone… the insensitive sex god who would likely burst into laughter again at any second. This time I had no interest in seeing him smile or watching his eyes light up with humor.

I turned to tell him to go fuck himself, because let’s face it, there was a time for sugary-sweet politeness and a time for saying it like it was, and I was definitely at the latter point. But before I could say anything, Jake called out, “Are you hurt?”

I didn’t even have time to answer before he dumped the wood as if it was infested with fire ants. After bolting across the two snow-covered lawns, he slid to a stop next to me on the porch.

“Where does it hurt?” His voice had taken on an urgent, concerned tone, and I couldn’t help but notice my heart rate kick up.

Boo dropped into a crouch and growled angrily at him. I reached out to calm her with a hand on her sweater.

“My hip,” I said as I tried to shift my body to take some of the pressure off the pained joint. My eyes fell on my Vans. “Stupid shoes. I think I need to get some of those clodhoppers you have,” I said, nodding toward his ugly-ass boots. They looked like what I imagined mythical snow tires looked like if, indeed, there was such a thing.

Jake glanced at my shoes with a frown. “Why the hell are you wearing smooth-soled shoes? Don’t you know how to dress for the cold? Where are you from?”

His hands gently assessed my joints, starting at my feet and moving up to my ankle and knee. I shivered, but not from the cold. I was actually suddenly warm.

Very warm.

“New York. And, yes, I know how to dress for the cold,” I managed to get out as my body began responding in a very inconvenient way to Jake’s gentle touch. “But back home we use this thing called salt. It helps keep surfaces from getting so slick.”

“We use salt here too, Oz.” The sound of my name on his tongue did funny things to my insides. “But in order for it to work, you have to actually scatter it around.” His eyes looked from my slick steps to me and back before I realized what he was implying.

“Oh. There’s not someone who does that for us?”

“No, Oz. There’s not. You kind of have to take care of yourself around here. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”