Page 45 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
“It’s fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been there for a few years now. Got my routine down. But honestly, I miss small towns sometimes. The quiet, the space.”
“I get that. Less hectic, fewer people to get on your nerves.” I pause, stirring the batter a little slower now. “Kinda like our date, huh? No crowds, no chaos…until it got abruptly cut off.”
Emily chuckles, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, that was…unexpected.”
“Tell me about it,” I say.
“You’re not holding a grudge, are you?” she teases, bumping her hip against mine playfully.
“Nah,” I reply, but I can’t help adding, “I’m just sad it got interrupted, is all.”
She bites her lip, her eyes twinkling. “I guess I owe you a proper date, then.”
“That you do,” I grin.
She giggles again, and I find myself wondering how the hell I’m supposed to keep my head straight around her. I feel like I’m falling a little deeper every time she laughs.
Ater what feels like hours, we’ve finally made a decent batter.
“How long you think it’ll take?”
“Hmm,” I say, watching her pour into the bigger cake pans.
“Let me check,” I say. “Wait, I’ll preheat the oven before we put it in. We’ll need about 10 minutes.”
When I return, she’s still frowning down at the cake pans. “I’m worried about the consistency. You sure this is going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry. As long as it doesn’t grow legs and run away, it’ll be just fine.”
Emily holds up the spatula from the mixing bowl, her eyes locked on mine as she offers it. “Taste it,” she says.
I lean forward, my lips brushing against the spatula as I take a lick. The batter is sweet, smooth, but it’s not the taste that lingers—it’s the heat between us. My eyes flick up to hers, and for a moment, everything around us fades away. It’s just her, standing there, watching me, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for my reaction.
“Good?” she asks, but her voice is quieter, like she feels it too—the tension crackling in the air.
“Yeah,” I murmur, holding her gaze longer than I should. “Real good.”
For a second, I think about closing the distance between us, about how easy it would be to just lean in and?—
And I do.
Instead of leaning in to take it from the spatula, I gently grab her wrist, holding her gaze as I bring her finger to my mouth. Slowly, I suck the batter off, my lips lingering just long enough to hear her sharp intake of breath.
Her cheeks flush a deep pink as I let go of her hand, and I catch the low sound that escapes her—a soft, barely-there groan that sends a ripple of heat down my spine. Her eyes dart away, flustered, and I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips.
“Bold move,” she whispers, clearly trying to regain her composure, but her voice has a huskier edge to it now.
“Couldn’t resist,” I reply, my voice dropping as well. “Batter’s good, by the way. You’ve got a real knack for it.”
“Glad to know I’m good for something.”
“Oh, you’re good for a lot of things,” I murmur, leaning in slightly
She shakes her head, her smile returning as she grabs the spatula and turns her attention back to the batter.
I dip my fingers into the batter, scooping up just enough to catch her attention. When she glances my way, I hold it out to her, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.
“Your turn,” I say, my voice teasing.
