Chapter 3: Snowy Meat and Squeaking SofasAiden tried to work out how he’d ended up on a worn, squeaky sofa, in front of a wood-burning stove, with a dog sprawled next to him.
The dog’s owner—Aiden couldn’t remember if he’d said his name or not—was doing something in the kitchenette. He was muttering and slamming pots around, and Aiden wanted to apologise. Problem was, he didn’t know what for. He didn’t want to annoy him. Those broad shoulders looked stiff and tense under the plaid shirt; Aiden longed to dig his fingers into the muscles and loosen them up, but actions like that might land him in the hospital. Guys like the one in the kitchen usually didn’t welcome man-on-man touching.
Right now, he didn’t think he’d manage to give a massage anyway. His hands weren’t working as they should
