North of Need (Hearts of the Anemoi, #1) (7 page)

“Uh, I think I might’ve knocked him over,” he said with a grimace. “Sorry.”

She waved a hand. “No matter. It’s not like he would’ve lasted forever.”

Owen looked down at the ground. “You never know.”

Chapter Ten

The presumed disappearance of the snowman had gone over better than Owen feared. For that, he was glad. While making the clearing, Megan had smiled freely, like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. He didn’t want anything to chase that away.

He just hoped he wouldn’t go the way of a real snowman. Owen shuddered at the thought of himself, puddled on her floor. The endless stretch of snow all around him should’ve provided solace. It should’ve protected him for a while. But it wasn’t going to last, not if that West Wind came through.

Owen didn’t want to go anywhere, damnit. Hopefully, not ever. But that would be up to Megan. And he had only four days to make her want him, too.

Her voice, so full of good humor, pulled him from his thoughts. “All right, Mr. Igloo Expert. What’s next?”

Owen walked across the just-packed surface and grabbed the shovel. “Next, I’m gonna dig us a hole. Then, we’ll cut out blocks.” He booted the shovel into the snow, dug and scooped until he had about a two-foot diameter hole in which he could stand. Blades of frosty grass poked up through the snow under his feet. “Bring me the saw?”

“Sure.” Megan retrieved the handsaw from where she’d placed it earlier. She gifted him with a big, open smile when she passed it to him. He’d build her a hundred igloos if it meant she’d keep looking at him that way.

“Thanks.” He leaned down in the hole, basking in her happiness and in the fact maybe he had something to do with it, and sliced the saw horizontally into the snow. Cutting all around the bottom of the circle, just above the grassy surface, he freed what would become the bottoms of the blocks.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?”

If she hadn’t been watching, he could’ve thrown this together in the blink of an eye. But he wouldn’t have traded her presence for all the world. “Yep.”

Standing up again, Owen sank the saw into the top of the snow where they’d stomped and jumped. It was hard and dry, just what they needed. He made cuts on three sides, then carefully levered the block free. He caught it in his hands, then lifted it outside his small circle and set it off to the side.

“Whoa. That’s awesome.”

He melted a little at Megan’s praise. Well, not literally. On the inside.

Soon, he had six blocks carved, roughly two-feet long by about a foot high and eight inches thick.

“Can I try?”

“Of course. Step on down.”

Megan’s smile widened as she joined him in the lower circle and took the saw. He adored how much she seemed to be enjoying herself.

Bracing her gloved hand against the surface, she pushed the saw’s sharp tip into the snow. It went about four inches, then pushed back. “Shit. How did you do this?” With a grunt, she tried again. The blade sank another couple inches, then ground to a halt. She pouted up at him. “The snow doesn’t like me.”

Her ridiculous declaration made him want to drop to one knee and prove her wrong. “Want me to help?”

“No way. If you can do it, I can do it.” She huffed and used both hands to push the saw forward.

It was no use. They’d packed it hard and tight. The lower layers were frozen through.

“Come on,” she grunted.

Restraining a smile, Owen came around her and laid his hand on the snow’s surface. With a silent command, he reworked the internal chemistry of the layers.

Megan nearly fell on her face when the saw sliced right through to the ground. She whooped out a cheer. “Woot! I did it! I did it! Take that, snow!”

Owen fell back against the snow wall and laughed. Gods, living felt so damn good. Filled his soul until he thought it surely couldn’t be contained by this mortal body. “Good job. Might want to do the other two sides, though.”

“Shut up, you. I’m getting there.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. At your leisure.”

Her next cuts went much smoother, to her great joy and Owen’s considerable amusement. He helped her lift the heavy block up onto the side. For the next half hour, they took turns cutting, lifting, and stacking more blocks, until Owen guessed they had enough. Block-making had opened up the small circle under foot to a six-foot diameter around which the igloo would stand.

Owen climbed out of the circle and grabbed the shovel, then carved a ramp-like path from the higher surface down into what would become the igloo’s floor. “This will be where the door goes.” He tossed the shovel aside. “Ready to build?”

Megan glanced at the stack of blocks. “Very. Can’t wait to see how we’re going to get those to stand up.”

With a scoff, Owen grabbed the first block. “That’s not doubt I’m hearing, is it?”

She pressed her lips together. It didn’t hide her smile. “Maybe?”

He clutched his hands over his heart. “Aw. You wound me. I am injured. Most grievously.”

She shoved his arm, making him stumble. “Oh, stop. You’ll live. Now get to building me an igloo already.”

“One igloo coming right up. And then you’ll make me lunch and we’ll have a picnic inside.”

“Deal.” She watched as he grabbed the first blocks and lay them in place.

As he worked, Owen felt her gaze as an almost physical touch. He wasn’t used to being watched, observed. He’d spent so long in his unseeable elemental form. But her eyes on him made him feel real, present in the world. When was the last time he felt he was right where he belonged?

He threw himself into the construction to restrain the need building up inside him. Her joy, her playfulness, being out in the snow, in the cold—the whole experience set his body on fire.

The bottom layer of the igloo was the easiest. Standing on their longest sides, he laid the blocks along the edge of the raised snow wall around the pit they’d cut out. He worked the tail end of the first layer upwards, spiral-like, so the second layer grew increasingly taller as it progressed, leading naturally into the third layer, the one that started to tilt inwards in anticipation of the domed roof. Megan helped him brace blocks whenever needed, and he shaved shapes into the blocks with the saw to get the blocks to cooperate.

“The key is to pack them tight so the pressure of the blocks pushing against each other holds them in place. Makes the snow molecules bind together,” he said as he worked another block into the wall.

“You really do know a lot about building igloos, don’t you?”

He hoisted a block into place at shoulder height. “Just now believing me, eh?”

Face rosy from the cold and the exertion, Megan looked up and surveyed the growing walls. “Seeing is believing.”

See me
.
Believe in me.
He sighed. It was hard to be patient now that he had a deadline hanging over his head.

The fourth layer of blocks leaned forward at a forty-five-degree angle, so Owen took more care wedging them securely. The fifth layer left a hole in the center top of the roof. Grabbing another block and the saw, Owen cut out a shape slightly larger than the remaining space and carefully forced the last piece upwards into the gap. When the completed roof arched over them, he smoothed his hands all across the surface and willed the molecules to lock together. Just to be on the safe side.

He dropped his arms and looked expectantly at the beautiful woman standing beside him, her faced filled with amazement and joy.

“We did it!” she said and threw herself into his arms. “This is the coolest thing ever.”

He wrapped her in his embrace. The warm satisfaction of triumph flooded through him. Not for finishing the igloo, but for earning this moment of happiness with her. Her breath caressed his neck, jolted down his spine, settled into the thick organ between his legs. “We did,” he rasped.

With difficulty, he pulled away, not wanting his body’s response to her enthusiasm to scare her off. “One last thing.” He retrieved the knife and carefully poked a half-dozen holes into the sides of the igloo. “Ventilation. Otherwise, the ice traps carbon monoxide inside.” He flipped the blade in his hand and turned to her. “So, what do you think?”

§

“Wow.” Megan turned in a circle, admiring the glittering ice walls that surrounded them. They’d really, truly done it. Thanks to Owen. “I think I know someone who earned some lunch.”

Owen groaned, clutched his stomach. “Oh, please, tell me it’s me. I could eat a polar bear right now.”

“Not a polar bear.” Megan grinned, loving his playfulness.

“Why not?”

“For one, they’re too cute. And two, they’re an endangered species.”

He smiled. “Good points. Well, I hope you have something else in mind.”

Counting out on her fingers, she said, “I have the sandwich and salad fixings from last night. But I can also heat up some chili and cornbread. I have a pepperoni pizza I can bake. Oh, I have some very good chicken salad—”

“Chicken salad. Please. Sounds great.”

Megan nodded, amused by how enthusiastic Owen was about, well, everything. “On a sandwich or a salad?”

“Surprise me.” Saw in hand, he turned away from her and knelt at the igloo’s short doorway. “Hold on, let me make this a little taller so we can get in and out easier.” He carved an arch into the bottom-most block, opening up a three-foot-tall doorway.

Megan’s eyes quickly slipped from the saw’s handiwork down Owen’s bulging bicep, across the tight pull of his shirt over his muscular shoulders, over his strong lean back. The too-short shirt exposed a swath of fine, pale skin just above his firm ass. Oh, to sneak her hands through the fabric gap and burrow against him, wrap around him.

There was no denying it. It might be crazy, given how little she’d known him, but she liked Owen.
Really
liked him. His positivity, the tender way he offered concern and care, his ability to find joy in the smallest things. When was the last time she’d felt so carefree, so open to life? It was him. His influence. After so much time beating herself up and tearing herself down over what had happened to John, she actually liked who she was around Owen. It was so damn liberating.

Her eyes trailed lower, down from his very fine ass to the thick muscles of his thighs.

She didn’t just like him, either. She wanted Owen. Craved him. Her body had been asleep these past two years, and he’d woken it up. With a vengeance. Looking at him, she felt like a starving woman at a feast. Warm as she was from hours of exertion, not all the moisture inside her clothes was from sweat.

“You okay?” Owen asked.

The blush was immediate. Megan’s gaze flew from his ass to his laughing eyes. Jeez, she was out of practice. Busted. Again. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it on a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m great.”

“Mmm, good.” He flashed an infuriating but admittedly sexy smug smile. “Food. Now,” he called as he crawled through the door, good humor infusing his tone.

On hands and knees, Megan followed, her stomach growling for sustenance. “Come on inside. Take a break. Get warmed up while I pull things together.”

He hesitated, his eyes shifting between the snow and the cabin. “Uh, okay.”

Megan trailed across the snowy path to the cleared sidewalk. She stomped across the front porch, then dropped boots, coat, gloves, and scarf into a pile just inside the door. The temperature differential suffocated her. She ripped off the fleece Henley, stripping down to a thin short-sleeved T-shirt she had at the bottom of all those layers. “Phew. Much better.” She tugged her hair into a pony tail and fanned her neck. She turned to Owen, who stood with his back against the closed door.

His face was bright red, sweat dotted his forehead and temple. The quick rise and fall of his chest revealed his accelerated respiration.

Megan rushed over to him, cupped his jaw in her hands. He felt cool to the touch, but sweat poured off him. “Owen? What’s the matter?”

His swallowed hard. “Can I have a drink, a very cold drink?” he rasped.

She ran to the fridge and returned in an instant with a large glass of cold water and crushed ice. “Here.”

He grabbed the glass from her hand and tilted it to his lips, chugged the whole thing back in one desperate swallow, ice and all. He blew out a breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Better.” The cup shook in his hand.

Megan frowned, wished she knew what had happened. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Yeah.” He shuffled to the breakfast bar and dragged himself onto a stool, not at all the energetic powerhouse he’d been for the last three hours. “Mind if I take my shirt off? I don’t do well with heat. Need a minute to adjust to the air in here.”

Megan gulped. Mind? Not in the least. “No, course not.” She rounded the counter to the kitchen side.

He ripped the turtleneck off with one hand and tossed it on the counter in front of him. Spreading his arms against the cold granite surface, he leaned forward so his chest pressed into it.

An idea popped into her mind and Megan whipped a clean dish towel from a drawer. She soaked it in cold water right from the tap, then twisted the excess water out. Turning back to Owen, she found him draped over the counter, forehead resting on the backs of his hands.

She debated for only a minute, then walked around to him and laid the cold towel over his upper back.