Page 52 of Love Under Snowfall

It would be suicide going out there, and who knew if search and rescue would even be around to collect them? For all he knew, Highway 2 was closed, and if that were the case, where would they be? Stuck in the elements with no shelter.

He sighed, conceding to their mutual fate.

“Then how do you suggest we spend our time?”

She grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Frankie

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Frankie purred as the warm, yeasty scent bloomed throughout the cabin.

“Didn’t everyone learn how to make bread from scratch a few years ago when we were all stuck at home with nothing to do?” Benjamin tapped on the crusty shell of the loaf. Nodding with satisfaction at the hollow tone, he removed it from the Dutch oven and set it on the table to cool.

“Some of us tried and failed miserably.” She stood beside him, sniffing up all the fresh carb smell her nose could hold.

“Perhaps I’m gifted.”

“Resorting to stroking your own ego these days, are we, professor?” She pinched his side and gulped at the feel of solid muscle beneath his shirt. He swatted at her with the flour-dusted towel, and she yelped when it cracked just below her rump. “Ouch, watch it!”

“I have exceptional aim too.” He waggled his eyebrows as a gleaming white smile split wide across his handsome features. The stubble he’d grown over the last few days, paired with his rumpled hair, softened him in a way that made him more approachable. It had Frankie thinking that if she'd come across him at The Rooftop Tavern in Leavenworth, she might’ve considered chatting him up. He gave off a softer vibe, in a ruggedly handsome way of course. Not that he wasn’t sexy as hell in a suit with his hair immaculately styled and a fresh shave, but she likedhim better this way.

She’d spent the better part of the day creeping on her cabin mate as they did whatever random things they could think of to pass the time.

Especially when he did his little workout routine.

Benjamin had mentioned running every day and complained that he felt antsy because he hadn’t been able to in a while or something like that. Honestly, Frankie wasn’t really listening because she was too busy drooling. Hiding behind an ancient issue ofNational Geographic, she kept sneaking peeks. The magazine fell from her hands completely when he started doing lunges.

Following breakfast, they’d clawed their way through the storm to the little woodshed out back and gathered a few more logs. Frankie collected and boiled snow to replenish their drinking water then switched to a desperate insistence on filling the solar shower to bathe later. Benjamin had laughed at the “unnecessary” task. But no amount of scoffing from him would deter her from her mission.

Midday, as Benjamin lumbered around the main room, practically swaying on his feet, Frankie insisted he take a nap on the bed. It took some convincing and a little shoving, but he finally agreed, waking up two hours later in a seriously improved mood. They played a couple dozen rounds of cribbage—in which each win earned the victor a point that could be added up and cashed out from a list of “prizes” they’d agreed upon in advance. Frankie had eventually hit that stride she’d been blabbering on about and led the final point tally sixteen to eight.

All the while, the snow dumped around them, the wind practically vibrating the little cabin off its weathered foundation. One thing was clear as ice: They were staying another night.

In the cabin.

Still alone.

Together.

And for whatever sadomasochistic reason, Frankie wasn’t really bothered by it.

She rubbed her ass cheek that still stung from where Benjamin had snapped her with the towel and glared as he set about finishing dinner. Sitting in one of the chairs with a cup of warm tea in her hands, a beautifully sculpted man at the stove, and the lingering scent of fresh bread swirling around her, Frankie secretly hoped this fantasy could last a little longer.

Is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like?

She shook herself, appalled at her misguided musings. They weren’t playing house. And while Benjamin was beautiful, and an incredible kisser, he had treated her horribly with zero remorse while she was his student. Why did she continually have to remind herself of that? Getting along with him enough to make it through this ordeal was all that was required of her.

So why did she want more than to merelysurvivewith him?

“Bonappétit,” he sang, setting a bowl in front of her and retrieving the still-warm loaf of bread. He ripped off a chunk and handed the rest to Frankie, who followed suit. She sank her teeth into the soft, chewy center and used a piece of the flaky crust to scoop up a bite of rice and beans similar to the dinner she’d prepared the night before.

“Ohhh yeahhh.” The meal was perfection, and she frowned at that fact. “How did . . . what? I made the exact same thing last night. Why is yours so much tastier?”

“It’s called salt.” He smirked through ravenous bites.

Frankie considered flicking a spoonful in his direction but decided it’d be a crime to waste any of the delicious dish. Instead, she rolled her eyes and ripped off another hunk of bread.

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