I’ve never been so cold in my entire life.

In the dream, I’m standing in knee-deep snow in the middle of a field. At one end, my father is screaming my name, and at the other, I can see Carson’s house up on a hill.

I start trudging away from my father, toward the house, but I can barely move. I’m so cold, frozen to the core, and he’s coming closer. He’s stumbling like he always does when he’s drunk, and I know what he’ll do when he catches me. He’s going to beat me to within an inch of my life like he has in the past.

I try to run, but I can’t. I’m so cold. My muscles are stiff and frozen and my skin is numb but beginning to burn, which I know means frostbite. My father is getting closer and closer, and I know I’m going to die, he won’t hold back, he’ll kill me.

Instead, I wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom. It takes me a second before I realize that I’m safe in Carson’s house, wrapped in sheets and a comforter. I still feel like I’m cold from the night before, although I feel so much better. The clock on the nightstand says it’s eight in the morning, which isn’t enough sleep, but I know I won’t go back down after that dream.

I get slowly out of bed and look around the room. It’s large and spacious with an attached bathroom. It’s very nicely furnished, and I think that was the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on in my life.

I go into the bathroom and find a toothbrush and toothpaste. I go through my morning routine, using the face wash he set out, before deciding to say screw it and take a full shower.

I don’t know when I’ll get to wash my hair next, so I go through the whole thing, cleaning myself top to bottom. I feel like a new person when I step out and get dressed again, wrapping a towel around my hair. When I’m finally finished, it’s nearly nine.

I step out into the hallway and instantly the smell of cooking bacon hits me. My stomach rumbles and I realize that I haven’t eaten in almost a full day now. I walk back down the hallway, trying not to stare all around me.

I was in a haze the night before from exhaustion and cold. I didn’t really take this place in, but now I feel refreshed and alive. It’s such a beautiful house, impeccably decorated, with gorgeous art on the walls, the sort of pictures that I’m sure cost thousands of dollars.

My breath is taken away when I step into the main room. I remember the glass wall from the night before, but it’s so much more incredible during the day. Juneau spreads out down below in the distance and I can see unspoiled wilderness between here and there. I walk up to the glass wall, oblivious of anything else except how amazing the view is.

“Even better during the day.”

I turn around, a little startled. Carson smiles at me. He’s standing in the kitchen, clearly cooking something, and I realize that I walked right past him in my amazement.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Morning.” He grins at me. “I’m glad I got to see your reaction.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s cool at night. But it’s better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” I say, putting my hand against the wall.

“Want something to eat?” he asks. “I’m cooking you bacon, eggs and pancakes. I don’t know what you’re into, but when I heard the water get started, I went nuts.”

“You cook?” I ask him, walking toward the kitchen.

“Sure. Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”

“That’s a complicated sentence,” I say, laughing.

He grins. “I’m a complicated man.”

“Well, I am starving. I can’t turn down food right now even if I wanted to.”

“Good. Sit.” He gestures at the island counter. I pull out a stool and climb up. He places a mug of coffee in front of me. “There’s also OJ if you want it.”

“Coffee is great,” I say, sipping it.

“What’ll you have then?” he asks, gesturing at the food.

“Everything,” I say, and blush immediately. “Please.”

He laughs. “I like that. Okay, one full breakfast coming up.”

A minute later, he places a plate down in front of me that’s piled with bacon, eggs and three big fluffy pancakes. He gives me a little bottle of syrup and finally sits down across from me.

“Aren’t you eating?” I ask him.

“Ate earlier,” he says. “Got some work done this morning so I could take the rest of the day off.”

“You worked already?”

“I’m an early riser.”

“Sorry I slept in. You didn’t need to take the day off. You didn’t need to do any of this.”

He smiles at me then reaches out and takes a slice of bacon from my plate. “Eat,” he says, “before I do.”

My stomach rumbles so I dig in gratefully. I’m acutely aware of him watching me, but I don’t care at this moment. The food is so delicious and I’m so starving that this is probably the greatest meal of my whole life.

He’s even more handsome than I realized last night. In the morning, he looks fresher, more muscular, but still mature and distinguished. I know he’s much older than me, but I still have this strange attraction to him that I can’t quite explain. I’ve never been interested in a man his age before, but then again, I’ve never met a man like him before.

I’m used to the men from my neighborhood, men like my dad. Hard working men, of course, but men that the years haven’t been kind to. They all went soft in the middle, but not Carson. He clearly takes care of himself and cares about his appearance, and it shows.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but it doesn’t matter, not in this moment. The food is too good and Carson is too handsome for me to overthink this. I know I’m going to have to leave sooner rather than later, but right now I want to let myself enjoy the first bit of kindness I’ve ever really been shown in my life.

“Listen,” he says as I am halfway finished. “I just want to say that you can stay here for a little bit, if you need to.”

I pause, looking at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can. Look at this place. It’s just the two of us.”

“I know. But it’s your home. And you don’t know me.”

“Sure, I do. You’re Kylie. You’re from LA and you don’t own a jacket because you didn’t realize how cold Alaska is this time of year. You’re running from something, though I’m not sure what yet, and you used every dollar you had to get away, which means it’s probably pretty bad. How am I doing so far?”

I stare at him, genuinely surprised. I didn’t tell him that stuff last night, except for the part about being from LA. Somehow he figured out the other bits, about me running away, about my past. It’s impressive, but I’m not ready to open up to this guy, not yet. I don’t want him to think that I’m just some weak runaway kid.

“Not bad,” I concede. “Can I give you a shot?”

“Please do,” he says, grinning huge.

“You mentioned oil last night. You’re the rich son of an old school oil man. Probably have more money than you know what to do with. But you live alone, which means you work too hard. Your job is your life. How’s that?”

He laughs, crossing his arms and smiling broadly. “Not bad. Not quite right, but close.”

“Which part?”

“My job isn’t my life. But I do have more money than I know what to do with, that’s true.”

I can’t help but smile a little bit. “I’m going to finish eating now,” I say.

“Good. Go ahead. I’ll let you eat while I clean up.”

I go back to eating, a little bit slower, but I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He cleans the dishes, whistling softly to himself, almost like I’m not even here. His movements are graceful and precise, like an athlete’s, and he’s wearing a pair of heavy jeans and a light denim shirt with paint spots all over it. He looks like he really does work in those clothes, though the selvedge line on his cuffs suggest that those aren’t just some cheap denim pants.

This man has layers to him, that’s for sure, and I want to get to know them. Though maybe that’s presumptuous. But he did invite me to stay here, totally unprompted.

I don’t know if I can take him up on that. I barely know the guy, and although he’s handsome and rich and kind, I don’t know how much of that is true. He could still be some psycho axe murderer that just lured me up into his secluded mansion to kill me. Isn’t that the movie cliché? Maybe he’s fattening me up and he’s going to try to cook and eat me. I give him a little look as he cleans a knife in the sink, a very large and very sharp knife, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I’m being stupid, though. Just because I’m in Alaska doesn’t mean every nice person is some kind of axe murderer. He could easily be a regular murderer. He might not even own an axe. I shouldn’t stereotype Alaska like that.

I finish up my plate and he takes it from me. I thank him and watch him finish up. When he’s done, he leans against the counter, drying a dish and eyeing me.

“What?” I ask him.

“You look different today.”

I glance down, self-conscious. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all. You just look a lot less... “

“Frozen?”

He grins. “Frozen. That’s it. Speaking of frozen, how are your toes feeling?”

I shrug. “Fine. No frostbite.”

“Let me take a look.”

“Really, I’m okay.”

He walks over to me then drops to one knee. “Just stay still.” He grabs my ankle then slides my sock off. I blush a little bit and feel strangely exposed as he checks both my feet. Satisfied, he stands. “You’re good,” he says.

“Are you some kind of doctor?”

“No. You just need to know the signs of frostbite out here. We had that drilled into us at a young age.”

“By your father?”

He nods. “My father the oil man.” He leans against the counter and looks at me. “You need a coat.”

“I’ll figure something out,” I say.

“I have coats, but they’re all for men.”

“That’s okay. Thanks anyway. You’ve been too nice already.”

“Stop. You won’t survive long here without the right clothes, and you clearly don’t have the right clothes.”

I sigh. He’s right and I can’t deny it, but he’s been too nice to me already. “I’ll figure something out,” I say again.

“Come on,” he stays, standing. “Let’s go into town. We’ll get what you need.”

“No, really. I can’t do that. You’ve done too much.”

“Kylie.” He looks at me seriously. “I want to buy you things. Are you really going to stop me from getting you what you need?”

“I just... ” I trail off when I see the way he’s looking at me. It’s intense, both protective and sexual, and it makes me feel strange. I can’t exactly describe what he does to me, but it’s something I never anticipated before.

“Okay,” I hear myself saying, which is so outside of my character. I’m not used to getting things from people, much less actually taking them.

“Good girl. Go get dressed. Layer up, it’s cold out. I’ll give you one of my coats for now until we can get you something else.”

“Okay,” I say again, then stand. I go to walk back to the room but I stop halfway and look back at him. “Thanks for this, Carson. You really don’t need to help me, you know.”

“I know I don’t. But I want to.”

I nod and then turn back toward the bedroom. I walk down the hall and head inside.

I layer up, just like he told me to, and when I’m finished he meets me in the kitchen again with a jacket that’s way too big, but at least I can tell it’s warm. He’s dressed stylishly but practically, with heavy looking boots, a down jacket, and a black beanie cap. Everything looks well-worn like he’s used to being outdoors in this weather, which is so strange. He’s a rich guy, probably works in an office, so I can’t really understand him.

But he wants to take care of me, or at least he wants to help me, which is the strangest thing of all. Where I’m from, people don’t have enough to give to their neighbors, much less would be willing to help a total stranger. And yet here he is, basically saving my life and making sure that I don’t freeze to death out in this unforgiving place.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but I can’t seem to turn away. I could refuse him, make him take me to town, but I don’t want that. I want to know him, to figure out what makes him tick. I want to know why he lives in this big house all alone and why he’d want to help a girl like me.

I follow him out into the garage and we climb into one of his cars, a big black truck. He fires it up and we head out into the snow, winding down toward the city.