The next nut she smashed survived mostly intact, and he let her open all the nuts. They shared them, and when they were done, he swept up the shavings and tossed them into the fire, causing the flames to leap.
The hut remained surprisingly weatherproof. They could hear the whistle of the storm outside, and there were small drafts, but the fireplace chased the chill. They were safe from the snow, and—
“Should we turn it?”
“What?” He startled and took a moment to grasp what she meant. “The meat. Yes.” Still somewhat in a bemused state, he snared the pan and hissed at the heat of the handle.
“You might want to use this.” She grabbed the makeshift potholder from the floor where it had fallen unnoticed. He blamed her for the distraction.
He reached for it, only to have her grab his hand.
“You’re hurt.”
“Barely. I don’t feel a thing.” Not entirely true, his hand did throb, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. Shifters healed at a quicker rate. Especially true in some hybrids.
He slid the glove on and pulled the pan close enough that he could roll the meat. It sizzled as it hit the hot metal. He shoved it back for some more cooking. “It will be awhile yet.”
“If you’re hungry now, I found some cans.” She gestured.
“What do we have?” He held one up. “Some kind of green vegetable.”
“Sounds delicious?” Her nose scrunched at her query.
The corner of his lip tugged. “That is more optimistic than this image deserves. What do you say we find out?”
“There’s a weird can opener.” She located the tool, and Lawrence showed her how to peel metal with it.
The moment he pierced that seal, the smell hit them. Hard.
“Oh god, that’s awful,” she exclaimed. “It must have gone bad.”
He peered at the contents. “I don’t know. Seems like it matches the picture. He held it tilted in her direction to show off the green lumps.
“I can’t eat that.” She put a hand over her mouth.
“Me either.” Nor did he want to smell it a minute longer. Opening the door for only the barest of seconds, he tossed it as far as he could into the storm. Something would find it and not be as picky about eating.
The next can held a soup.
“Think it’s any good?” she asked dubiously of the yellowish fluid with chunks.
“I think that, along with the bones and whatever meat is left, it will make a fine stew for later.”
“Something else you learned in the Boy Scouts?” she asked.
“You might say.” He winked. “Growing up, the nights I spent in the woods were some of my most formative.”
He then proceeded to regale her with a story about how he and some of the other kids went to a camp thought to be haunted and just about pissed themselves when some of the older kids decided to pretend they were psycho murderers out to get them. A good, screaming time was had by all. Except for Kelvin. Well into his thirties, he still slept with a nightlight.
“That is way more exciting than anything I ever did,” she admitted. “The only time I ever did anything outdoorsy like that was in my backyard with my brother. We found a pup tent someone was tossing out.”
“You’re close to your brother?” he asked as he tested the meat, not worried so much about the rawness for him but more so for her.
“Yes. Was. Kind of.” She sighed. “He’s the reason I’m in Russia. He came here months ago to work, and while not the most reliable guy when it comes to communicating, he usually manages to get some kind of word out to me.”
“He’s missing?” he asked to clarify.
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“Seven months since I last heard from him. At least five that I know for sure he’s been gone. The junk mail really started piling up about a month before that, though.”
“Wait a second, you came to Russia to find your brother? Alone?” Because she obviously wasn’t native to the place.
Her expression tightened. “You think I’m stupid.”
“I think you must love him very much.” And yes, she was a little dumb, but only for the best reasons.
Her shoulders sagged. “I just wish I knew if he was okay.”
“Have you made any progress in your search?”
“What search? I don’t know anyone. I thought maybe someone at his building or job would have answers, but no one would talk to me.” Her lips curved even lower. “It’s like he never existed.”
The sheer weariness of the statement tore at him. He had to ease that weight. “When we get out of here, I’d like to help.”
Her gaze rose to meet his. “Why?”
“Because family is everything. I recently had a cousin go missing, so I know how that feels.”
“Did you find them?”
“Yes. Miriam came back to us.” He left out the part where she was shot and tossed in a river to die. She’d recovered but would always have a scar.
“It’s been so long since I’ve heard from Peter.”
“Don’t give up hope. Not until you know for sure. I’ll help you get answers when we get out of here.”
“You are way more confident about that happening than I am.” A rueful admission.
“Don’t you worry, Peanut. I’ll get you back to civilization in one piece.” He pulled the pan from the fire and shook it to roll the charred meat in the juices. “Dinner is served.”
Not much was said as they chowed down. He didn’t eat much, having already partaken outside while in his liger form. It meant there was enough left to throw in a pot with the can of stew and some more snow.
“Soup for breakfast?” she quipped as she stirred the pot.
“Wait until you see what I plan for lunch.” He lay on the sleeping bag, feet aimed at the fire, hands crossed under his head.
“You don’t think we’ll be rescued before then.” Stated, not asked.
“We could try walking out, but that will be miserable in that snow. Our best bet is to wait.”
“Wait for someone to rescue us?” She snorted. “I wish I shared your optimism.”
“Are you always this pessimistic?”
“I’m a realist. And as a person who’s been clumsy her entire life, I always have to look for the worst.”
“You need someone to catch you.”
“I do not. I—” She whirled to rebut his claim, her ankles got confused, and the next thing they both knew, she landed in his arms. Proving his point.
“I think you should have a seat.”
“I agree. I’m tired,” she muttered, her cheeks hot. He shifted her so she could sit on the pillow beside him. Rather than park her sweet ass in it, she gestured. “You’re the one lying down. You should put the pillow under your head.”
A soft cushion would be nice, but a man should always strive to be a gentleman. “You found it and were using it first.”
“We’ll share.” She flopped the cushion down beside his head, and then inched herself down in a way that gave her an edge of it without any part of her body touching his and put her back to him.
Invitation to spoon? Or, more likely, her way of shutting him out? He might have been more offended if he hadn’t caught whiffs of her arousal or the way heat sometimes stained her cheeks when she peeked at him.