Body and Soul (Twist of Fate, Book 3)

by Lucy Lennox

  I didn’t know what to make of the young man.

  I glanced around my bedroom and then stepped back into the main room of the cabin. The burst of color, even what little of it there was, stood out like a beacon. Like Oz had left his calling card, but that he’d done it in a way that lingered in more than just a small section of my living space. He clearly liked pretty things, but not necessarily expensive ones. Like his shoes… he’d mentioned the design and not the fact that they’d probably cost a fortune. I wasn’t completely ignorant–I knew who Karl Lagerfeld was. But Oz hadn’t been spouting off about how much he’d spent on those shoes. And he hadn’t talked about his fancy dog because it was one that lots of people probably considered one of those designer pocket pets. My eyes fell on the quilt on the back of my couch and the green pillow that was made out of… holy hell, it was my favorite green shirt–the one I only wore on special occasions. I wanted to laugh because Oz had probably taken one look at it and thought it was just some old piece of clothing I’d never miss.

  Young Oz was truly an enigma. He was just about every gay guy’s wet dream when it came to sex because he was absolutely beautiful. And while he was confident and stubborn in some ways, he was painfully naïve and innocent in others. He had expensive things, but from what I could tell, it wasn’t necessarily the price tag that appealed to him. His love for his dog, even if some of what he said to her was over the top, proved what a good heart he had. And he found joy in something as simple as bringing a little bit of color into my world.

  For what?

  To figure out the answer to that, I’d have to try and figure him out.

  But that most definitely wasn’t an option.

  I shook my head, but left the pillow and the blanket alone. I’d put everything back the way it was later. As for Oz, I resolved to avoid my new neighbor until he figured out that, just like the color he’d brought to my cabin, he and I didn’t fit. Eventually he’d get the message, and things would settle down again. When the cute little clothing designer returned to New York where he belonged, life would go back to the way it should be.

  Colorless.

  Quiet.

  Safe.

  In the three days since my vow to avoid Oz, I actually hadn’t had to make any effort to do so. I hadn’t needed to, because he’d avoided me.

  Not that I could blame him, considering the way I’d blown him off.

  I’d expected him to try and make some contact with me again, but even on the few occasions I’d actually seen him, he’d been the one to ignore me. His little dog had tried to approach me one morning when I’d gone out to turn my car on, but Oz had gotten uncharacteristically angry with her from his spot on the porch when she hadn’t responded to his initial command to return to the cabin. Princess Cujo had run back to him, and not surprisingly, his anger hadn’t lasted because when he’d scooped her up, he’d lavished her with kisses and what I could only assume had been apologies before he’d taken her back into the house, her tail wagging happily.

  My instincts had been screaming at me to go check on him a few times, but I’d managed to refrain. The medical professional in me wanted to make sure his burn was healing properly while the man in me wanted to reassure myself that he was staying warm enough and that he had what he needed to get through the cold snap we were about to experience.

  But gorgeous little Oz wasn’t my problem.

  Well, he was, just not in a good way. Yeah, he was most definitely a problem for me, if the dreams I was having about him every night were anything to go by. Not to mention the obligatory masturbatory sessions in the shower each morning where I usually ended up calling his name as I came in my own hand.

  The fact that his car was gone made it easier to ignore the need to check on him. My cell phone rang just as I was getting into my truck, so I got it started before answering the call. The caller ID showed who it was. As much as I wanted to ignore Xander’s call for the third straight day in a row, I knew if I kept it up, he’d just make his way up the mountain to check on me–unannounced, of course.

  “Hey,” I answered.

  “Hey yourself,” Xander said. “You have plans for dinner tonight?”

  I closed my eyes because I’d been expecting the question.

  “Um, sorry… I’ve got something I need to do.”

  “Oh yeah, what?”

  The question caught me off guard. Xander wasn’t normally the type to pry.

  “Just stuff,” I said lamely.

  “Uh-huh,” Xander said, clearly not convinced that I was telling the truth. Luckily, he didn’t call me on it. “So how are things going with your cute neighbor?”

  Jesus, was he really going to try and play matchmaker?

  “Fine. He’s staying out of my way, I’m staying out of his.”

  I could practically see Xander frowning through the phone. “So you haven’t even talked to him?”

  “No,” I lied, because I wasn’t about to admit I’d done more than talk.

  “Well, you should. He’s a great guy. Sweet. Funny too.”

  I hated the jealousy that curled through me at the thought of someone else liking Oz, even though it was completely unfounded, since I knew Xander wouldn’t so much as look at another man, not with Bennett in the picture.

  “You’ve talked to him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I met him briefly in New York at this benefit concert Ash put together and then again when he stopped by the lodge a couple days ago to pay his rent for the winter.”

  “The winter? The whole winter?”

  “Yeah, through February, even though he won’t actually be here that whole month–something about Fashion Week. I overheard him talking to Lucky about it. Guess he’s a designer or something.”

  “He is,” I said without thinking. “Clothing designer.”

  “So you have talked to him.”

  I rolled my eyes at the way Xander’s voice went up a notch.

  “Okay, gotta go,” I said.

  “Wait, wait,” Xander cut in. “I wanted to do this in person, but since I’m likely to see Bigfoot before I see you, I guess this will have to do.”

  “What?” I asked, preparing myself for the worst.

  “Bennett and I settled on a date for the wedding.”

  I waited for that little stab of pain I usually felt when Xander mentioned Bennett, but curiously, it wasn’t there. “Okay,” I said. “When is it?” I knew there was no way I was going to get out of attending that particular event. And part of me really didn’t want to try. Despite how much things had changed, Xander had been a good friend, and I was happy he was finally going to have the life he deserved.

  “Christmas Eve. And I want you to be my best man.”

  Fuck.

  “Really?” I asked, somehow managing to sound surprised, rather than horrified.

  “Aiden will be standing up for Bennett, and I want my best friend to stand up for me.”

  My heart lodged in my throat. Best friend? God, was that really how he saw me? If so, I was the worst fucking best friend on the planet.

  “Um, yeah, okay.”

  Smooth, Jake. Way to sound excited.

  “Okay, cool,” Xander said, his voice sounding a little lighter. “It’ll just be friends and close family. Really small and intimate, and we’re having it here at the lodge.”

  I struggled to get my emotions under control. How the hell had Xander’s admission managed to gut me like this?

  Maybe because he’d somehow managed to fly under the radar with me. Because he really was my best friend. I just hadn’t realized it until this moment. And while that was eye-opening, it also hurt a little because it was a reminder of how things had changed for me in the past few years. I’d become so emotionally isolated that the idea of having a best friend had become a foreign concept.

  “Okay, just let me know when you need me to be there.”

  “You’re still coming for Thanksgiving, right?” Xander asked.

  Five minutes ago, I would
have tried to get out of it. But now I merely nodded my head and said, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, we’ll go over everything then. Unless, of course, you want to stop by sometime before then. Maybe bring me some beer?” Xander hinted.

  I smiled to myself. “I might have a batch ready in the very near future. Maybe once that cold passes…”

  “Good,” Xander said. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on Oz, especially if that cold snap lasts as long as it’s supposed to. I get the impression he’s kind of new at all this doing-it-on-his-own thing.”

  Yeah, sure, and while I’m at it, I’ll just cut my arm off and feed it to Oz’s crazy little dog. “Sure,” I murmured. “Listen, I have to go,” I said as I glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, then. Maybe give me a call in a couple days just to let me know you guys made it through okay up there.”

  “Will do,” I responded. Something in my belly warmed. It’d been a long time since I’d had someone in my life who cared about me like Xander did. I wasn’t in a position to reciprocate the metaphorical hand Xander was almost always extending me, but hell if I didn’t want to reach for it sometimes. I said my goodbyes and hung up, then got the car going.

  It took about fifteen minutes to get down the mountain. As I entered Haven’s city limits, I felt something in my chest ease. While I enjoyed the wilderness guiding I did and the odd jobs that allowed me to escape into the mountains even during the winter months, nothing brought me more peace than the volunteer work I did at the Haven Cares clinic. It was complete and utter insanity to keep returning to the clinic and offering my services to the beleaguered Doc Sharma, but I found myself doing it several times a week anyway. Fortunately, Doc Sharma had figured out early on that having me help out in his clinic came with a certain set of unspoken conditions, namely that he didn’t ask me a lot of questions–or any–about my past. I still often wondered if the man wasn’t a little off in the head, because he allowed me to assist him without proof of my medical training. Of course, I never actually wrote prescriptions or did much more than basic first aid, but what I was doing was still a big no-no. However, I needed the work as badly as Doc Sharma needed the extra set of hands. Practicing medicine was in my blood, and if there was a way to excise it out, I hadn’t found it yet.

  All my stress returned as I pulled my truck into the parking lot and recognized the fire-engine red Jaguar sitting by the front entrance.

  What was he doing here, of all places?

  The answer hit me before I even finished the question, and I quickly got out of my truck. I barely spared Nancy, the receptionist, a glance as I rushed through the empty waiting room of the clinic.

  “Hey, Jake,” Becky, the head nurse, said as I passed the room where the charts were kept.

  “Doc here?” I asked, knowing full well he was.

  “In two with a patient,” she called.

  “Thanks,” I said, then hurried to room two. I didn’t even bother to knock before throwing open the door. Doc and Oz both looked at me in surprise.

  “Jake,” Doc said. “Did you need something?”

  I ignored him because my eyes were on Oz.

  But not on his face.

  No, they were on his wrist.

  His red, inflamed wrist that was clearly infected.

  And there was only one reason it was infected.

  Because I’d been too much of a fucking coward to check in on him to make sure it was healing properly.

  Before I could even consider what I was doing, I looked at Doc and said, “It’s okay, Jai. I’ll take over here.”

  The doctor stared at me but didn’t argue as he made his way out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

  I reached for Oz’s injured arm, but he clutched it tightly to his chest.

  “I’m fine. Dr. Sharma was helping me. You may go.”

  My heart stuttered at his cold tone. It sounded so wrong coming from someone so warm and bubbly. I had done that. I had taken away his shine.

  “Please let me look at it, Oz.”

  He continued holding it protectively. “Not necessary. You made it clear I was to come here for help, so I did. Please go get the doctor back.”

  “I just want to see what happened to your burn,” I insisted.

  Oz’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were flecks of Arctic sky. “And I just want to see a doctor.”

  “Dammit, Oz, I am a doctor, now show me your fucking burn!”

  Those gorgeous blue eyes widened, and we just stared at each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d raised my voice like that.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  He shoved his arm at me. “Fine. Here.”

  I took hold of his arm without another word and held it gently. Sure enough, it was infected. Without letting go of him, I reached into a nearby cabinet and gathered the supplies I needed to clean the wound.

  “I knew you were a doctor,” Oz said quietly. “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You said you knew first aid because you were a wilderness guide.”

  “Not a lie,” I said. After a moment of silence while I worked on rewrapping the injury, I looked up to see him glaring at me. I let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Oz.”

  “Pfft. Whatever,” he said with a sniff before looking away. “Why even tell me you’re a doctor when you could just tell me to get the fuck out and not let the door hit me on the way?”

  I reached up to cup his face and turn it back toward me. His eyes skittered everywhere else but to mine.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. No one outside the clinic knows, and they only do because I volunteer here.”

  His eyes finally landed on mine, one eyebrow quirking. “Why? Why in the world would you keep something like that a secret?”

  “That’s not important. Just know that the reason I didn’t tell you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with a bunch of shit that you don’t even want to know about. But I truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to come here instead of coming to see me. This is infected, and I’m going to get Doc Sharma to give you some antibiotics, okay?”

  I noticed his jaw tighten, and I didn’t doubt his frustration with me. No one enjoyed being told something important was none of their business. But it wasn’t like I had a choice.

  After double-checking his bandage, I made my way out to the hallway to find the doc and get the prescription.

  “Friend of yours?” Doc Sharma asked with a grin as he scribbled on his script pad.

  “Neighbor. Oz moved into Xander’s old place.”

  “Ah. Nice kid. What’s his story?”

  I shrugged. “Only here temporarily. From New York. He’s a clothing designer, I guess.”

  Doc Sharma’s eyes studied me as he handed me the script. “Maybe keep an eye on your neighbor, Jake. He also had a badly bruised hip and deep scratch on his ankle. I’m not sure he’s used to living in the wilderness. The man needs a keeper.”

  “He’s fine,” I growled. “Not my problem, anyway.”

  His face lit up in a know-it-all grin. “Something tells me you’re wrong about that, Jake,” he said with a laugh.

  When I made my way back into the exam room, Oz was gone. Worried that he’d left without his prescription, I hurried toward the front desk, but stopped abruptly when I heard Oz’s laughter.

  “I told you, color is my language.”

  Female laughter followed, then I heard Nancy, the receptionist, say, “Maybe you can help us, then. Doc Sharma approved an interior designer to bid on the lobby refit, but I’m not sure I like what he came up with.”

  I moved around the corner so I could see a little better. My position allowed me to see Oz as he talked to both Nancy and Becky, Doc Sharma’s nurse. It looked like Oz was looking at some kind of sketch that Nancy was holding. He frowned briefly, then pasted a smile on his face and said, “Oh… um… that’s… well, that’s one
way you could do it.”

  Becky snorted. “Tell us how you really feel, Oz.”

  I could see Oz’s face pinken just a little, and I felt my body respond accordingly.

  “Keep in mind I do fashion design, not interior design, but I do know that a medical waiting room should be soothing. These colors aren’t soothing at all. I mean, don’t they make you want to punch something? Also, it seems obvious to me a doctor’s office shouldn’t be decorated the same color as blood, even if it does make it easier to hide carpet stains.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at Oz’s complete lack of tact, and I had no doubt it was because he felt so strongly on the matter. I’d already seen his obsession with color myself. In fact, I still had the damn proof of it sitting on my couch in the living room. For some reason I had yet to rescue my green shirt from the pillow, and the quilt was still resting on the back of the couch.

  The ladies began giggling as they nodded their heads in agreement. “That’s what Becky said,” Nancy agreed. “It’s a little aggressive, for lack of a better word.”

  “Hm,” Oz said, tilting his head. “I wonder if the designer used these blocky benches in this area to save money or for easy cleanup? They look really uncomfortable. But even if you kept them in, you could add a built-in padded cushion to the wall behind it for people to lean back against. There are some great fabrics that would be easily washable, and when the cushions get worn or stained, you could just swap out the cover fabric. They’re easy to make with some simple lumber and a staple gun.”

  “That’s the kids’ area,” Nancy added. “And all I can think about is a kid hitting their head on the corner of one of those things.”

  “You could replace them with something different. Kids need to feel comfortable at a doctor’s office, and these hard edges are anything but,” he said.

  Oz was deep in thought as he studied the design and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

  Becky nodded. “Like maybe some big floor pillows or beanbags made out of the same or coordinating fabric. That way there would be a comfy place for them to watch a video or play with the toys if wait times ran long.”

  Oz nodded excitedly. “Exactly. And if you had a half-height cubby set right here, it could provide a place to store the toys and visually separate the space without blocking the parents’ view of their kids.”