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Even if it was in Nick’s best interest to accept help, Martin suspected he would rather tough it out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need assistance anytime soon because Martin didn’t trust Nick to ask for it.
There was nothing Martin could do about that—other than answer the door if Nick knocked.
Throwing back the covers, Martin crawled into bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was full from all the food he’d stuffed himself with at the Donkey. And all the conversation too. Martin hadn’t expected to be the center of attention, but townspeople he hadn’t met practically lined up at his table to greet him. There were worse ways to meet folks. He supposed that he’d gotten a lot of the handshaking over with.
Chief Dear hadn’t been there, or any of the rest of the CSPD, but maybe he wouldn’t recognize them in street clothes. He hoped that meant progress was being made on the missing girl.
Everyone he’d talked to had been welcoming as well as kind, even if he felt like a bit of an imposter. He’d moved to Cooper Springs for purely selfish reasons, and many of the town residents he’d met seemed to expect him to pull off some kind of miracle and revive the long-dead tourist trade.
If the tourist trade increased, great. But Martin wasn’t betting his farm on it. He’d left Seattle and come to Cooper Springs because itfeltrightto him. And between his own savings, the sale of his house, and the money his aunt had left him, he fully owned the “resort.” Or maybe it owned him, knowing the repairs he had to look forward to.
Rain continued to pummel against the roof, distracting him from hazy thoughts of the future. What he needed right now was for the roof over his head to hold until the roofers came out to replace it and the rest of the cabins’ roofs. With these thoughts swirling in his head, Martin drifted off into a light sleep.
Wind and rain pounded against the house, from every side all at once, demanding to be let in. He begged the wind to be quiet, but it ignored him.
Fuck.
Martin came awake with a start and sat bolt upright. The pounding he heard came from the front of the house. Throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed, he rushed out to the living room—incredibly, he managed not to trip on any boxes he’d left out—and threw open the door.
A shivering and shirtless Nick Waugh stood on the other side. Rainwater dripped down his face, his hair was plastered to his head, and his hands were clutching a t-shirt to his chest. He looked a great deal like a half-drowned cat.
“Get in here,” Martin commanded, hurrying him inside and shutting the door behind him. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Here,” he said before Nick could answer him, “wrap up in this.” He tossed Nick a throw blanket he’d left draped over the back of the couch.
Nick didn’t catch the coverlet, so it slipped to the floor as the rainwater continued to drip down his bare chest. Martin shot him an exasperated stare. Snatching up the blanket, he wrapped it around Nick’s shoulders. Martin could feel the cold coming off his skin.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
Nick shook his head, finally responding. “I didn’t kn-kn-ow where else to go.” His body shook again as he tried to warm up. “T-t-tree.” His teeth clattered together, and Nick’s lips were blue with cold. “F-fell. M-mostly m-m-missed the c-c-cabin, b-but some b-b-big b-b-branches didn’t.” He took a deep breath that seemed to settle his words a bit. “The roof is caved in. I, I, uh, I’m not sure how much damage there really is.”
Jesus fucking Christ, hadn’t Martinjust hours agotold Nick to come to him if he needed anything? Was he incapable of accepting basic human kindness?
“I don’t fucking care about damage to the cabins. They can be repaired.Are you hurt?” He barely managed to restrain himself from grabbing Nick and running his hands down his person to search for injury. It surprised him that he wished he could do just that. Martin forced his brain to swerve away from what would be a Bad Move.
Nick shook his head again. If Martin didn’t know better, he might have thought Nick had taken a midnight swim in the ocean with just his pajama bottoms on. The useless rag was still pressed against his chest as he shivered violently.
Martin held his hand out. “Let me have that so you can hold the blanket better. We need to warm you up.”
Nick stared at him, his eyes wide, but let Martin peel the wet fabric from his grip.
It squeaked and a tiny orange ball with ears poked its head out.
“A kitten?” Martin’s voice softened. “Oh, it’s cold too. We need to warm both of you up.” The kitten tried to bite him. Martin laughed even though the situation was serious. “Figures your cat would try and bite me.”
A clean kitchen rag lay folded on the top of a stack of towels he hadn’t found a home for yet. Ignoring its violent protestations, Martin did the best he could to dry the small cat. When he was done, its orange and white fur stood straight up from its body, much like Nick’s hair had the other day.
He set it down on the couch. The fuzzball meowed at him one last time before backing up into a corner and continuing to shoot him a poisonous glare. Whatever had happened, the kitten seemed fine.
“Is there anything you need tonight?” he asked Nick. “Anything we need to try and get to?” Martin didn’t want to go out in the storm, but he would.
Nick shook his head.
Martin narrowed his eyes at his midnight guest. He figured Nick was in shock and had no idea if he had things that should be rescued because he was too busy failing at trying to wrap his head around nearly being mashed by a tree. The man was still ashen and his pupils were dilated. It had to be shock, seeing as he hadn’t snarled or argued in the five minutes he’d been in Martin’s presence. Martin preferred snarly Nick to this passive one.
“I’m going to start you a shower,” he informed Nick. “Get in and take as long as you need to get warm, use all the hot water, I don’t care. I’ll scare up some fresh towels and find something to keep you warm tonight. The kitten will be fine for a few minutes.”
His thought that Nick was not in his right mind was confirmed when Nick headed toward the bathroom without resistance. Martin beat him there and pulled back the curtain, turning the hot water on high. The small space started to fill with steam.
“There, in you go.”
