“WOULD YOU like some breakfast?” Wyatt asked Hodor, because he had to say something. For some reason he was incredibly nervous. “I just made some eggs a bit ago, and cleaning the pan is going to be a bitch without water, so why don’t I just make a few more? I got ’em.”
“Sure,” Hodor said. “If it won’t be any trouble.”
“No trouble at all!” Wyatt turned around and practically dashed over to a big blue cooler in the corner of the room. He pulled out the half container of eggs and a plastic bag of preshredded cheese. “Want some cheese with yours?”
“Sounds good.” Kevin sat down on the end of the big bed. Then jumped up. Moved over to one of the other cot-like beds. Prison beds. Then: “I-I can sleep on this one.”
You could sleep with me, Wyatt almost said. He said, “Okay,” instead and then turned to the stove.
Gods! His heart was pounding. Why? It wasn’t like he’d never been alone with a man before. A gay man. A hulking, hot man. So why was he acting silly? Wearing that stupid hat! Offering to make breakfast. And what had he almost done? Told Hodor that there was room in the bed for both of them? He looked at Hodor again—all six foot something, and those huge arms and that giant chest and those sexy eyes (oh those eyes)—and he wondered if there would be room for the both of them. They would have to get awfully close.
Wyatt shivered.
Okay. Now you’re being silly.
Why was he acting like this?
Then he looked up at Hodor, and he knew why.
Gods. He is so damned sexy. So sweet. And…. His eyes widened.
“Hodor! You talked.”
Hodor smiled (was he blushing?).
“I do talk, Little Bear.”
And then for some reason, Wyatt realized he didn’t want to be called by his Faerie name. He wanted this man to use his real name. “Wyatt,” he said. “That’s my name.”
Hodor nodded. “I know. I’ve always liked your real name.”
You have? “You have?” He likes my real name?
“But your Faerie name is perfect too. Such a sweet little bear…. Just right.”
Wyatt blushed. “Gosh, Hodor—”
“Kevin.”
Huh? “What?”
“Kevin. My name. It’s Kevin. Wyatt… I would really like it if you would call me Kevin.”
Oh! “Of course. Gryphon told me. I never knew.” Kevin. Gosh. He hoped in his airheadedness he didn’t forget his real name. Kevin.
“It’s on my registration,” Kevin said. “You usually meet me at the gate at Festival. I figured you knew.”
“I guess I didn’t look at that part. The off-site registrar puts our camp names up on the top.” He paused. “You’re talking,” Wyatt said. “I think I’ve heard you say more in the last few minutes than I’ve ever heard you say.”
The big man shrugged. Kevin. His name was Kevin. Wyatt smiled foolishly. He looked like a Kevin, didn’t he?
How does a Kevin look?
Big and tall and hunky. That’s how. To Wyatt’s surprise he felt a stirring in his jeans.
“I do talk. Just not much. To people I know. And I know you.”
He has such a nice voice.
Do something. You’re staring!
“I was going to make you breakfast.” Wyatt went back to the half carton of eggs. “I only have two left. Is two okay?”
“You really don’t have to make me breakfast.”
His name is Kevin. This wasn’t going to be easy. He’d called the man Hodor for as long as he could remember. Six years. Seven? Eight?
“Don’t give me the last of your food.”
Wyatt gave a little chuckle. “It’s not the last of my food. Don’t worry. Scrambled okay? I don’t guarantee I won’t break the yolks if you want them fried. Sit at the table.”
“Scrambled is fine,” Kevin told him. “I like scrambled eggs. This is awfully nice of you, Wyatt.”
For some reason Wyatt trembled. It was the way Kevin said his name. The way it rolled off his tongue. Strong. “It-it’s no trouble,” he managed. “It’s nice making breakfast for a man again. Although it’s the first time I didn’t sleep with him first.” He cringed. What the fuck had made him say that? “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Kevin asked.
“Ah… sorry I don’t have any coffee,” he replied, hoping it was recovery enough. “But I can give you a cola. It’s not Coke, only Sam’s. But it’s got caffeine.”
“Sure. That’s fine.”
Wyatt got it for him and then went back to making the eggs. He grabbed the can of Pam and began spraying again. “I hope butter-flavored spray is enough. I didn’t bring any butter or anything….”
“Wyatt, I appreciate anything. And I’ll make dinner, okay?”
“It’s a deal,” Wyatt replied. “Now sit at the table.”
Kevin did as bid, and Wyatt flipped a slice of bread in the pan. It didn’t take long to brown, and a moment later Wyatt was placing a paper plate with steaming cheesy scrambled eggs and a piece of toast in front of his guest. “Want two pieces?”
“One slice is enough,” Kevin answered and dug in. Suddenly he was wolfing the food down. “These are great.”
He scraped up the last bites. Looked at Wyatt. Wyatt found himself smiling. “You really like?” he asked.
Kevin nodded enthusiastically. “The eggs really are delicious.”
And then they were staring at each other for what seemed like forever. There were all kinds of things swimming in Kevin’s eyes. Wyatt didn’t know whether to be turned on or go racing out the door into the snow.
Then suddenly: “So, Wyatt…. What do you think about this snow? Is this a son of a bitch or not?”
Weather? They were going to talk about the weather? He glanced out the window and realized it really wasn’t such a stupid thing to talk about. “Yeah. Pretty crazy. Although I don’t think Snedronningen would appreciate being called a bitch.”
“Who is… Snod-rah—”
“Snid-ronn-gen,” Wyatt corrected. “I think. Hope I don’t piss her off mispronouncing her name. She’s the Snow Queen. From Hans Christian Andersen’s story.”
Kevin smiled. “You would know that, Wyatt.”
Wyatt’s face heated. Was Kevin making fun of him?
“It’s part of what I like so much about you.”
Now Wyatt smiled. He pulled out a chair and sat next to Kevin. “I like that kind of stuff.”
“Me too,” Kevin said.
“The movie… Frozen? It’s nothing like the story. She’s a pretty bad bi…. Oops.” He laughed and blushed. “I almost said ‘bitch.’”
“So she doesn’t sing that song that was so popular a while back?” Kevin asked.
Wyatt shook his head. “But I have to admit, I like the Disney version. The original story is kind of dark.”
“Unhappy ending?” Kevin rested his chin in his upraised palm. “Like ‘The Little Mermaid’?”
Wyatt laughed. “Oh my gosh, no! There’s a happy ending. But you know that ‘The Little Mermaid’ had an unhappy ending!”
“I like that kind of stuff,” Kevin said.
Wyatt leaned his elbow on the table and dropped his chin in his own hand. It put their faces pretty close together. Close enough that he could see how beautiful Kevin’s eyes really were. He’d thought they were brown. But up close? They were hazel. With a bit of amber and dark honey. Swirled. Gorgeous.
Gods! I’m staring!
He leaned back. “Yeah! What about that snow!”
“A whole hell of a lot more than we were supposed to get.”
Which reminded Wyatt of something Gryphon had said. “Gryphon had something to say about that. He says he’s always thought it was funny when we say we’re supposed to get a certain kind of weather.”
Kevin nodded. “Right! Like who is it who says we’re supposed to get a kind of weather! Who really knows? Except maybe God.”
“Or Snedronningen?” Wyatt offered.
“Or her.” Kevin grinned. “Blessed be her name.”
Wyatt laughed again.
“We don’t want to piss her off,” Kevin said, brow furrowed but eyes twinkling.
“Never,” Wyatt replied and looked once more into Kevin’s handsome face. Who knew the guy was so sweet? “I like talkie-Kevin.”
“Talkie-Kevin?” his companion asked.
Wyatt nodded. Actually giggled. “Talkie-Kevin. The one who says more than ‘Hodor.’”
Kevin shrugged. “Like I said, I talk.”
“Then why don’t you do more of it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just never been comfortable talking around people.”
“You’re talking to me,” Wyatt said.
“I guess I’m comfortable with you, Wyatt,” Kevin said. And a blush crept over his cheeks.
Wyatt’s heart skipped a beat.
He cleared his throat.
What did he say to that?
Kevin stood up and walked over to the door, pushed the lacy curtain aside and looked out. “Gryphon thinks we got close to three feet. That we won’t be able to get out of here until at least tomorrow. I wonder if even then. If they had more than one Bobcat, I’d help him plow the snow.”
Which quite suddenly reminded Wyatt of something else. He sighed. “Well, crap. It sure did mess up my plans….”
Kevin turned, a sad expression flashing across his face. At least Wyatt thought he’d seen it. “Because you wanted to be alone?”
“I wanted to work a ritual up at Pax Place. I had it all set up and everything. Now I can’t get there.”
“At least for a couple days,” Kevin said.
Wyatt sighed again. It was part of why he’d come here. That and to be alone. He wasn’t going to do either now.
“What kind of ritual?” Kevin asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Wyatt replied. It wasn’t something he was in the mood to answer right now.
“You sure?”
“Sure,” Wyatt said with a nod.
Kevin looked around the room. “I think I’ll make my bed.”
For some reason that sent a little pang to Wyatt’s heart. He glanced at his own bed. Big enough for the two of them? If they got close?
Kevin looked at the bunk beds on one wall and then the two by the door. “Think I’ll take one of these. Last thing I want to do is wake up in the night to take a piss and bonk my head on the upper bunk.”
Wyatt looked at the little beds. Could Kevin even fit? “They’re awfully small. Won’t your feet stick out off the end?”
“They’re the same size as the bunk beds.”
“We could switch,” Wyatt said. “You can have my bed.”
Kevin shook his head, a sharp expression on his face. “No. Absolutely not. I’ve already taken your cabin. I’m not taking your bed.”
I could share, Wyatt thought. In fact, he knew he would like that. Sex or no sex, it had been a long time since a man had shared his bed. He missed it. A lot.
But he didn’t offer. Kevin was already making the bed.
Wyatt did help, though. It was the least he could do.
It was while doing so that Wyatt kicked something under the bed. “What was that?” he wondered aloud.
Kevin crouched to look. “Well, look at this!” He pulled out some boxes and put them on the bed. “Games.”
And games they were. Monopoly. Checkers. Scrabble. Uno. Yahtzee. Sorry! Even Chutes and Ladders.
“How cool is this? We won’t get bored!”
Kevin was grinning like a kid. Wyatt, however, immediately felt himself begin to sweat. “I… I don’t know.”
Kevin looked up, and after a second his smile turned into a frown. He looked concerned. “Wyatt?”
Wyatt’s mind was filled with memories of Howard and the board games they used to play. How seriously Howard took it. How competitive he was. How mean he could get. Slaughtering his opponents instead of just playing to win.
“Wyatt?”
The look of concern on Kevin’s face!
“I—I’m not very good at games,” he said, omitting the total truth of the situation. He’d loved games growing up. He and his sister and mother used to play by the hour. And every Christmas both he and Wendy each got a new game. For them it was for the fun, not the winning. He also suspected his mother let them win many a time.
“Who cares?” Kevin said. “It’s not about winning. It’s about having fun.”
And just like that Wyatt’s sudden fear evaporated. “Really?”
Kevin nodded. “Give it a try?”
“I—I guess so,” Wyatt said, a long-lost tingle starting in his tummy. Of how much fun he used to have with games.
“Monopoly?”
“I’m probably more of a Candy Land kind of guy,” Wyatt answered.
The smile that spread over Kevin’s face was almost radiant. “Candy Land it is!”
Wyatt smiled. “R-really?”
“What game is more fun than that?”
To Wyatt’s surprise, he saw that Kevin meant it.
And so play they did.