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As he tasted the soup to see if it needed more pepper, he cast a quick glance at Kirk from under
his eyelashes. He didn t think the big man liked being stared at, but there was something about him
tonight that Leo couldn t quite place.
Kirk was always intense Leo desperately wanted to paint those deep dark eyes under heavy
brows, with their fathomless, brooding gaze, that strong implacable chin, and those wide, strong
cheekbones but tonight...tonight Kirk seemed ill at ease, restless, strangely clumsy in a way he
hadn t been before.
When he walked, he moved as smoothly and silently as ever, but letting him chop onions and
beef had gone so badly that Leo almost wanted to take the knife away from him, and after that Kirk
had almost dropped the soup bowls twice. That wasn t like him at all.
Leo stirred the soup again, watching the strands of cabbage twist around each other. He wanted
to fix whatever was wrong with Kirk, but he didn t know how. And he began to suspect that maybe he
was the cause of Kirk s unease.
Maybe Kirk sensed that Leo was attracted to him.
Well, if so, at least he hasn t kicked me down the mountain yet, Leo thought with a spark of
black humor.
He hummed under his breath, trying to ease his own nerves and perhaps even Kirk s.
The soup was nearly ready, and Leo began to spoon the soup into the bowls that Kirk seemed to
use for everything. The borscht was a lovely deep red, like burgundy, and it smelled just right.
Leo smiled to himself. Bite me, canned soup industry, you can t touch this.
He put the bowls on the table, and watched with satisfaction as Kirk s eyebrows went up.
 Sour cream? Leo asked, unconsciously falling into Kirk s habit of leaving out as many words
as he could.
 Sure, Kirk said. He was looking at the soup with a strange, distracted expression almost
fearful, if that was even possible. Leo couldn t imagine anything that could scare Kirk.
Leo looked too, holding on to the tub of sour cream: was there something wrong with the food?
But he could see nothing except delicious soup.
Maybe it was the color?
He looked up at Kirk from under his eyelashes, but by now Kirk s face was unreadable again.
 Dinner is served, Leo said, trying to cover the sudden awkwardness of the moment.
With a flourish, he spooned a dollop of sour cream into Kirk s bowl, where it floated like an
iceberg, slowly turning pink at the edges. Then he treated himself to another spoonful and sat down,
managing it first try without either falling over or dropping his crutches.
Kirk nodded to him, and they lifted their spoons without another word and began to eat.
Oh, yes, it was as good as it smelled.
Leo ate with relish he d thought he was hungry before, but it was a pale shadow to the
ravening beast that seemed to have taken hold of his insides now.
Between spoonfuls, Leo watched Kirk wolf down his soup. It was incredibly satisfying to see
him eat Leo s cooking, especially since he clearly was enjoying it, given the speed at which it was
vanishing.
 We should really have some wine with this, Leo said thoughtfully.  But it wouldn t go well
with the medicine, I suppose. Oh, and some rye bread, but I didn t think to put it on the shopping list.
Maybe next time.
He said that last oh-so-carelessly, only sneaking a glance at Kirk from under his lashes when he
was sure the other man wasn t looking at him. How long are you going to let me cook for you?
Disappointingly, Kirk merely grunted and kept eating, spoonful after spoonful disappearing in
record time. He seemed to be avoiding Leo s eyes; not a good sign.
Leo s own bowl was empty sooner than he realized.
It really was very good borscht. His Nana would have approved, though she would probably
have had something to say about the spices. He could hear her saying it: Needs more pepper, my
dove, to spite the devil.
In Nana s strange, cobbled-together world of old gods and superstitions, the Devil could be kept
away with black pepper, the sign of the cross, or a pebble with a hole in it that you carried on a string
in your pocket. And if you didn t have any of those things, you could zap him with an old TV remote
control, provided you took out the batteries first.
Seeing that Kirk s bowl was empty too, Leo looked at Kirk, but he seemed lost in some thought
of his own, staring at his empty bowl as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Slowly, Leo got up again, feeling his left leg quiver under him.
It was strange that he was so tired, when he d done practically nothing all day. It must be that he
was still healing.
 Do you want some more? he asked, shuffling over toward the stove.
When he got no reply, he turned to where Kirk was sitting at the kitchen table and nearly fell
over as one of his crutches shot away from under him.
Damn those things.
His left foot thumped down hard on the wooden floor, and the jarring, sickening pain shot all the
way up his spine.
For a moment, Leo saw darkness roil in front of his eyes, and the wooden spoon in his hand
clattered to the floor along with the other crutch.  Oh, damn it, he whispered, swaying on his feet
and trying to blink away the blackness.
A chair scraped across the floor, and in a blur of motion, Kirk was there.
Kirk s arm was around him, and Kirk s body was pressed against him, holding him up.
So close, so warm.
He could hear Kirk s heartbeat, a deep heavy thud that resonated through his broad chest.
Leo closed his eyes and let himself have this.
The dizziness was fading already, the pain was still there but less immediate, less sickening. He
would be all right in another breath...or two...
Just a moment longer, he told himself. Just a moment and, and then I ll
He couldn t make himself break away. Even if his leg would hold up, which it didn t feel like it
would right now, he couldn t make himself do it.
Kirk was so warm and solid, and Leo s head rested so naturally against his shoulder. He never
wanted to move again.
Leo inhaled, catching the scent of his skin beneath the soft flannel shirt. Kirk smelled good, Leo
thought hazily; like woodsmoke and leather, and something else he couldn t name that seemed to
belong to the woods, an earthy animalistic scent.
 T-thanks, he said, far too softly, his voice muffled in Kirk s shoulder.
But Kirk heard him.
He drew back a little No, don t, Leo thought mournfully and examined Leo, his hands
grasping Leo s shoulders in a firm grip.
 You all right? Kirk asked in that deep voice, the edges sounding even rougher now than
before.
His eyes were pools to drown in. Leo stared up at him, mesmerized by that dark gaze, that rough
voice, and forgot to answer him.
Kirk s big hands shook him by the shoulders, very gently.  Leo.
 Oh, Leo said foolishly, staring up at him.  You said my name. You haven t said it since you
rescued me.
Kirk blinked at him, and his face transformed again. It was that look of surprise that made him
look so much younger, so much less closed down and forbidding.
Leo couldn t resist it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]