Page 58 of Love Under Snowfall

“Anyway,” she said and sighed thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll write a memoir and make buckets of money.”

“Is that why you want to be a social worker?”

“For the buckets of money?” she joked dryly.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. Specifically, I want to work with youth who are underprivileged or in the foster care system. My ultimate goal is to open a nonprofit that exposes kids to nature. Hiking, camping. Perhaps some artsy classes where they sketch or photograph flowers or whatever. I found a lot of healing and clarity outdoors. Maybe I can help them find a way to channel their pain so they don’t feel so alone.”

“Francesca, I—”

“I know. You plan to wait with bated breath for me to bestow mercy upon your wretched soul.” She teasingly tossed his recycled words back at him, but for Benjamin, they rang true this time around. “You’ve already apologized, and I’ve already accepted.”

“I am, though. Sorry, I mean. I never stopped to think of your reasoning for being in my class. All I considered was how your presence upset my . . .” He struggled to voice his thoughts. Focus? Concentration? Dedication to nothing but law? After scanning through all the truths, one seemed the least damning. “Routine.”

“You like order and predictability. I get that. Next time maybe pull your head out of your ass and ask a couple of clarifying questions first, yeah?”

“I can do that.” He let a chuckle drift from his mouth, but the mirth didn’t feel genuine.

“Well,” Francesca groaned, squeezing one of her shoulders with the opposite hand and rolling her neck in a semi-circle. “I’m sore from yesterday’s yard sale and drained from today’s emotional purge. I’m going to bed. With any luck this storm will subside tomorrow. The second it does, let’s get the heck out of here.”

“Agreed.” Benjamin rose and snagged their mugs, placing them in the empty wash basin for tomorrow. He watched hersaunter toward the bedroom door, where she stopped and turned.

“It felt nice to clear the air with you today. Maybe after this is all over, we can be friends. Or at least friendly in each other’s presence?”

“I’d like that,” he said, though as she closed the door, he wondered how he could ever temper the heat in his chest enough to consider her in such benign terms.

As night crept along, Benjamin lay on his bed of quilts, listening to the increasing howl of the wind. The storm raged around the little shelter, tearing at shingles and banging shutters like it was a living beast seeking out the tender morsels inside. At times, the gusts were so aggressive that the fire flattened out behind the glass stove door, threatening to lose its grip and extinguish. How long would the heat remain if it did? Would he or Francesca be able to get the logs burning again? Would they survive the night?

They had to get out of that valley tomorrow. Benjamin wasn’t worried so much about dwindling supplies, because the people who stocked the cabin left plenty. There was a couple weeks’ worth of dried food. No, his concern was his hold on control. Each interaction with Francesca chipped away at the delicate balance he managed between seeing her as his best friend’s little sister/his student and seeing her as a sexy, compassionate firecracker. They’d kissed twice and that was enough for Benjamin to acknowledge that more would lead to all out addiction. And while losing his mind in her might sound like heaven, the hell that would reign upon him—from his friend and his boss—would not be worth it.

Probablynot worth it anyway.

As another frame-rattling burst of wind flung itself at the cabin, the sound of shattering glass and a blood-curdling scream emanated from the bedroom.

Francesca.

Feet responding faster than his brain, Benjamin flew to the door, swinging it open to find a branch protruding from the tiny bedroom window. Snow, glass, and debris scattered the floor, discernible only from the steady glow coming from the main room. Francesca sat huddled on the far corner of the bed, pressed up against the wall, gasping for air and shaking.

“Stay there,” Benjamin barked and bolted from the entryway. He roughly pulled his boots on, not bothering to tie the laces, and stalked back to the bedroom. He marched across the glass and, without warning her in advance, scooped the shivering woman and surrounding blankets off the mattress. She snuggled against his bare chest, curling into his warmth and thundering heartbeat. With her head tucked under his chin, he took a deep inhale of the fresh eucalyptus from the shower she’d taken earlier and removed her from the little room.

Still maintaining a death grip on her shuttering form, he toed off his boots and sat cross-legged in front of the stove.

“Th-thanks,” she managed through chattering teeth. “Th-that scared the f-fuck out of me.”

“Same.” He hushed at his pulse as the initial jolt of fear devolved into something more carnal. Holding her like this, in his lap, against his bare skin, strands of silky hair catching on the thick stubble of his jaw, was nearly too much to handle. “You’re still shaking. Are you cold?”

“No. Just startled.”

Benjamin flexed his arms, raising her from his lap and sliding his legs out from beneath her. He settled her facing the woodstove between his veed-out thighs and slid his hands to her shoulders. The bunched muscle under her smooth skin amplified his desperation to calm her nerves. With gentle pressure, he began to knead the knots.

“Is this all right?” he asked, even as he felt her melt beneath his fingers.

“Better than all right,” she hummed as her chin fell to her chest.

Her little moans and sighs tunneled through his ears and seeped intoxicatingly into his bloodstream. He was high on her. How could such a small touch cause his head to swirl like he was on a carnival ride? Dizziness took over, and he willed his palms to stop, but every sound of approval that slid from between her lips secured him more permanently to her. And while his aim was to steady her nerves and calm her after the window smashed in from the terrorizing storm, he could feel her pulse pounding rapidly along her neck. He considered kissing her where it beat so erratically, trailing his tongue along the thumping vein.

He almost jumped as Francesca settled a hand on each of his bare thighs, lightly sliding her palms up and down the dusting of hair on his tensed quads. Suddenly aware that he was in nothing but his boxer briefs, the proximity of her to his thickening erection made him squirm. She sat squarely ahead of him, a mere whisper away from pressing into his length.

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