by C. B. Lewis
Sam deliberately swallowed the beer in his mouth. “That’s none of your business.”
“That does explain why you had a collar so readily available,” Philip said with feigned innocence.
Sam couldn’t help himself. He smirked. “Buddy, you have no idea.”
Philip leaned back in the seat, studying him. “You’re not what I expected.”
“If we’re going down that road,” Sam countered, “I’m gonna win. At least I didn’t have fur and a tail when we met.”
“Well, no tail,” Philip agreed, “but you are….” He tapped at his own chin and nodded toward Sam’s face. “Smooth as a baby’s bum doesn’t really describe you.”
Sam rubbed at his jaw. Shaving wasn’t a big priority, not when winter hit. “What can I say? I like to get in touch with my inner lumberjack.”
“Hate to say it, but I think your inner lumberjack may have been outed.”
Sam flicked his bottle cap at the other man, who yelped and ducked. “Manners,” he warned, but he had to admit it felt nice having someone else around and poking fun at him as well. He downed the last of his beer, then rose and started clearing the table.
At once, Philip leapt up to help. Together, they made light work of the dishes and the leftovers were stowed in the refrigerator, wrapped up neatly with foil.
“I’ll need to head up to check a couple of the cabins first thing,” Sam said as he stowed the plates back on the shelf, “but as soon as I’m done there, I can get you back to town.”
Philip looked over from the table. He was wiping it down with a cloth. “There’s no hurry. I have the feeling I’m going to get a bollocking from my friends for running off with no warning.” He winced. “I don’t think I gave them the best of excuses either.” Sam made an inquiring sound. “Oh, I said I’d run off to a cabin in the woods with a prime specimen of manflesh.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “That’s your story?”
Philip’s cheeks reddened, but he grinned up at him. “Well, it’s better than what actually happened, and it’s technically true. Cabin. Woods.” He deliberately swept his eyes over Sam from head to toe. “Prime Specimen.”
Sam couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d blushed, but he was suddenly very glad his beard was almost thick enough to hide most of his face. “So your friends think you ran off to get laid? Is that… normal for you?”
Philip made a face. “I’m a bloody med student. I’m amazed they even allow us time to sleep.” He stretched and yawned. “Speaking of which, I spy a surface that isn’t concrete and that actually has a pillow or two.” He glanced at Sam. “Bathroom?”
“Through the door, on your right,” Sam replied, sorting through the cutlery.
By the time Sam finished putting everything away, Philip was already sprawled facedown on the couch. His hair had fallen forward over his face, the black curls rippling with every breath. He snored, Sam noticed. Not loudly. Just a small squeak on the inhale. It kind of fit him.
Sam switched on the small lamp on the coffee table, then retreated out of the den, flicking the overhead light off as he went. The couch creaked as Philip rolled over, burrowing deeper into the pile of blankets.
It said a lot about how exhausted he had to be, falling asleep on a stranger’s couch in the middle of nowhere.
Sam quietly closed the door and headed for his bedroom. His mind was whirling, trying to process just what the hell was going on and exactly who—and what—he had camped out in his living room.
Philip seemed like a regular guy, right up to the whole changing-into-a-dog thing. That was the part that kept bringing Sam’s brain to a screeching halt. Cute English medical student was one thing. Cute English medical student who was a part-time springer spaniel was something else.
It didn’t help that Philip was so matter-of-fact about it, like the whole thing was normal. Maybe it was for him, but it was throwing Sam straight into a whole new world where stuff from Harry freaking Potter was happening.
He lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. How many were there? What were the rules about getting involved? If you found a partner who wasn’t one, did you let them know when things got serious? Was he the only person who wasn’t involved who knew about them? He couldn’t be. A secret that big couldn’t be hidden from everyone.
By the time he finally managed to fall asleep, it was into the small hours of the morning, and he had a whole mess of questions he knew he would have to ask Philip because now that he knew, he couldn’t not know more.
His alarm went off at seven, and he swatted at it groggily.
It was still dark outside when he lifted the edge of the blind to peer out. Winter mornings could be beautiful, but not when the sun still wasn’t due for at least two hours. He stumbled out of bed and across to the bathroom on autopilot.
The shower helped, and he went from halfway to fully conscious when he topped himself up with a strong black coffee.
Philip was a motionless lump under a thick pile of blankets on the couch. Sam couldn’t make out more than the top of his head. Four days with a cage and no bedding must have been rough. No harm in leaving him to sleep.
Sam finished his coffee, then wrote a quick message that he stuck to the refrigerator door, letting Philip know where he’d gone, how long he would be, and that Philip could help himself to food if he was hungry.
The cold air hit him like a wall when he opened the door of the cabin.
In the light from the hallway, he could see the fresh layer of snow that had fallen in the night. Only a couple of inches, but thick enough that it could cause problems farther up at the cabins. He pulled his hat down low over his ears and trudged down to the SUV, the snow creaking underfoot.
The roads were white, and even with the chains on his tires, Sam couldn’t help being relieved when he reached the parking lot near the cabins. There were a dozen cabins stretched along a mile of hillside, and only two of them were being used. The rest needed to be checked, especially with the weather turning. One winter had been pretty bad, with pipes bursting and freezing again.
By the time he headed back in the direction of his SUV, the sun was cresting the mountains, making the whole world gleam. Sam paused by the car, looking out over the valley. No matter how many times he saw it, it never got old.
It never looked the same twice, either. This morning was something special, the sun still low enough between wispy strands of cloud that the snow looked like it had been washed with pale gold.
He took a long breath, the cool air clear and sharp, then blew it out. It coiled like smoke, then dissipated.
It reminded him again just how much the world kept surprising him. No matter how many times he thought he had wrapped his head around it, there was always something new, a new angle of light, a new color in the sky, a new scent to the air.
A new shape-shifter on his couch.
He almost smiled as he climbed back into the car.
The world was funny like that.
He flicked on the radio as he turned back onto the main road. There were ranger stations farther down the hillside, and they were the ones to give him a heads-up if more people were heading his way.
“Echo Lodge checking in.”
“Morning, Sam. Heading out or coming in?” He recognized the voice on the other end. Ashleigh Todd, the mother hen of the rangers. She was the woman who’d trained him when he first hit the mountains in earnest, and even if she couldn’t do as much ranging now, she still knew the area better than anyone else.
“Just checked the cabins, Ash. Any news from your end?”
There was a moment of silence as she went through the reports from the other ranger stations. “We’ve got a landslide between stations three and four. Nothing major. We have a crew on the way to clear the debris, but the road’ll be blocked for most of the day.”
Sam winced. “Shit.”
“Problem?”
“I needed to head to town,” he replied.
“Twice in
two days? You forget to buy toilet paper again?”
He snorted. “That was one time, and no. I have a friend staying with me. He was going to meet up with some buddies in town this afternoon.”
“Looks like he’ll have to put it on hold until tonight, or tomorrow, if you’re wanting to drive back.”
Sam knocked his hand against the steering wheel. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it either. Dammit. Not that he minded Philip. The guy seemed like a well-behaved houseguest, but if he had already missed most of his holiday because of the whole cage thing, getting stranded up in the mountains was the last thing he would want.
“The cabins on three’s side’ll need to be checked.”
Ashleigh laughed. “You think this is my first rodeo, kid? I’ll send someone up to check on them for you.”
“Thanks.” He drew in at a stopping point on the road, looking down the valley. There was no way he’d be able to see the slide, not even from this high up, but he could see the distant speck of the fourth station. “Can you keep me up to date with how the work’s going? If we can get through earlier, it’d be great.”
“Sure. Cell or radio?”
Sam drummed his fingers on the edge of the steering wheel. “Probably best to call the cell. I don’t think I’ll be heading out unless I have to today.”
“Catch you later.”
Sam flicked the radio off. With the landslide cutting off the rest of the cabins he was scheduled to check, there was nothing to do but head back to his home and break the bad news to Philip. He was halfway down the road when the snow started falling again, in soft, thick flakes.
Even before he could see the cabin, he could see the wisps of wood smoke curling from the chimney and had a pang of guilt. With the hours he kept, he always had the heating on a timer, so it would have cooled down after he left. No wonder Philip had to light the fire to stay warm.
He accelerated as much as he dared with the snow still whirling around the car. The sky was clearing, but when it did, the second the sun hit the fresh snow, he knew he would be blind. Getting back had to happen first. The gravel was no longer visible as he drove up in front of the cabin. Even his own footprints had been covered over.
There was no response as he called out a greeting when he opened the front door. Not a surprise when the thick door of the den was closed. He pulled off his boots and shook the snow from his coat before he hung it up, then padded across the wooden floor to the door.
When he opened the door, he paused, blinking, then pulled the door closed again.
Naked guy in the trunk was enough of a surprise.
Naked guy on the den floor, toasting himself by the fire, was even more so.
“Uh. Hey?”
No reply.
He coughed loudly and, when that didn’t work, knocked hard on the door.
There was a scuffle and a muffled “Oh shit!”
Sam looked away from the gap in the door, trying not to laugh. “You going to cover up so I can come in?”
“Just a moment!” Philip’s footsteps pattered across the floor. “Sorry! Sorry!”
Sam braced his hand against the doorframe, and when Philip yanked the door open a few seconds later, Sam looked at him, raising his eyebrows. Philip was back in the oversized sweater, but it was on backward. He was already flushed, but he went from pink to scarlet.
“Um. You’re back early.”
“Yeah.” Sam stepped around him to head to the kitchen. “And I couldn’t help but notice you were getting yourself all naked again.”
Philip sheepishly returned to the fire, picking the rumpled blankets off the floor. “I just—” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s daft.”
“You fell asleep as a dog again?” Even after a night to sleep on it, saying it out loud still sounded ridiculous.
Philip looked confused. “What? No. I wouldn’t turn back just because I fell asleep.”
Sam looked around from filling the kettle. “Huh?”
“The shifting: it has to be a conscious choice. I don’t just wake up in one shape or another.”
Sam set the kettle on the stove. “But you were a dog when I put you in the trunk.”
Philip grinned awkwardly. “Yes, and I was a human as soon as you started driving. You see, it’s awfully difficult to try and open a car boot when you don’t have opposable thumbs. I was waiting for you to slow down, but there were the blankets and it was warm for the first time in days, and….” He shrugged. “I was tired.”
Suddenly, the fire made sense.
“You wanted to warm up properly,” Sam said. “Didn’t you?”
Philip nodded with a glance at the flames. “Clothing is all well and good, but sometimes you just need your skin to feel the heat.”
Sam looked at him, rumpled and red-faced. “Hey,” he suggested. “How about you drag over a couple of cushions from the couch? I’ll make some hot chocolate, and we can both get warmed up. It’s pretty damned cold out there.”
Philip smiled, his expression brightening. “If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Nah.” Sam waved toward the fire. “Sit down. I’ll put together something to eat. You had any breakfast?”
“Not yet.” Philip was hauling over the cushions eagerly. “I managed a shower, but the water went cold after five minutes.”
“Shit.” Sam winced. “I’m not the best host.”
Philip smiled. “You fed me and gave me a place to stay without any warning. Not like you needed to do that. I can cope with a cold shower just this once.” He dropped himself down on one of the cushions, pulling a blanket around his shoulders again. “I didn’t think you were going to be back so soon.”
“Yeah, about that….” Sam set a loaf of bread on the counter and started cutting slices off it. “Turns out there was a landslide farther down the road. They don’t think it’ll be cleared until this afternoon at the earliest.” He glanced over at Philip. “You might be stuck out here another night.”
To his surprise, Philip didn’t look too upset. “Well, it’s an even better excuse, isn’t it? I can’t really argue with an act of God.”
Sam put the bread in the toaster. “You don’t seem too upset about missing your friends.”
Philip prodded at the fire with the poker. “Well, when you only spend time with people while working or drunk, you tend not to know what to do with them while relaxing and sober.” He shook his head. “I thought I was invited to a party. Not to go skiing with their club and meet his old school friends who work on Wall Street.” He made a face. “I’ve never spent so much time with such a bunch of pretentious wankers by choice before.”
Sam turned the bread. “So when you said you forgot where your friends were….”
“I was drunk and wet and cold, and I have no idea what you’re implying.” Philip sniffed.
“Right. Sure you don’t.” Sam couldn’t help grinning. “You must be desperate to avoid them if you don’t mind hanging out with a complete stranger in the backwoods.”
“You forgot that it’s a Prime Specimen of complete stranger,” Philip added, and Sam didn’t even need to look to know he was grinning like a cat.
Sam could feel the blush returning, which was dumb and embarrassing. “You okay with peanut butter and jelly?” he said gruffly.
“Can’t say I’ve ever tried it before.”
Sam shook his head and muttered under his breath about uncivilized English people, as he stacked the lightly toasted bread on a plate and smeared it with both peanut butter and jelly.
By the time he joined Philip by the fire, the other man was looking at ease. Sam folded down onto one of the cushions and set the plate between them. “Not exactly the healthiest breakfast,” he said as he handed over one of the mugs of thick hot chocolate.
“I’m on holiday,” Philip said and took a mouthful. It left him with a chocolate mustache, and he sighed with pleasure. “Mm. Good stuff.” He snatched up some of the bread, biting into it. “So… if we’re cut off, w
hat do we do all day? Sit around and stare at the walls?”
Sam gave him a look. “If we had some clothes that fit you, I’d take you to the falls.”
“Falls?” Philip inquired around a mouthful of food.
“There are waterfalls nearby. They freeze over in this weather. There’s a pretty easy trail to get to them.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of spectacular, if you like that kind of thing.”
Philip was watching him, his head to one side. The face was completely different, but for a second, Sam could see the dog he had picked at the animal welfare center. Everything else had changed, but the eyes remained the same: clear, bright blue. If Philip had been in that shape now, Sam could picture the way his ears would be pricking up.
“If you don’t mind me going… au natural, we could probably do that,” Philip said.
“Yeah?”
Philip nodded, curls flying. “I ought to see something of the area, don’t you think? It would be a shame to come all this way and not see anything.”
Sam smiled. He didn’t have many visitors who would let him drag them up to some of his favorite sites. None of them seemed to get that just because they’d been once didn’t mean they couldn’t go again. Especially when the weather and the season changed and everything was the same but totally different as well. “It’s only about forty-five minutes from here. About thirty minutes hiking from the road. D’you think you’d be okay going there and back?”
Philip beamed at him, crumbs sticking to his lips. “Worst comes to worst, you’re big enough to chuck me over your shoulder and carry my poor exhausted carcass back, eh?”
“You’re pushing it.”
Philip licked a smear of jelly from the corner of his mouth. He was still grinning. “Just trying to take full advantage of a Prime Specimen.”
Sam threw a crust at him. “Shut up.”
Philip ducked, laughing.
It was almost an hour before they headed out, and when they did, Sam went down to the car to move some of the blankets to the backseat. It didn’t feel right to make Philip sit in the trunk again, but there was no way he was letting a dog sit in the passenger seat.
“My God.” Philip was standing in the doorway, looking out. “I didn’t realize it had been snowing overnight.”
