Page 4 of The Sugar and Spice Kitchen

“Right.” He nodded. “I’ll come back for Nutmeg.”

Nutmeg chirped from the other side of the door, as if recognizing his cue.

Emily was already pulling on her coat. Because despite everything, despite how much she wanted to throttle Cole Alders even all these years later, she wasn’t an idiot. It was a blizzard. Her bakery was rapidly becoming an igloo. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she needed his help.

“I got it,” she said, climbing onto the counter with as much grace as possible.

“Sure you do,” he muttered, moving into her personal space anyway.

Emily got her arms over the sill. The cold bit into her hands and face and stole her breath immediately. Outside was nothing but dark and white and wind, the fire escape a hazy outline through the swirling snow.

She shifted her weight.

Reached one foot toward the metal platform.

And realized it was farther than she’d expected.

Before she could adjust, warm hands settled around her waist.

Emily jumped.

She wanted to blame it on the wind whipping her face, but no. This was all Cole. The solid press of his palms through her coat. The easy strength in his fingers as they settled at her waist.

Warmth rushed through her so fast it left her dizzy. It climbed beneath her layers, spread low in her stomach, and made every nerve ending suddenly, stupidly aware of him. Of how close he stood. Of how broad his hands were. Of how securely he had her. Her skin tingled under the pressure of his palms.

“I said I got it—” she tried to argue.

“You were slipping.”

“I had it under control⁠—”

The sound came without warning. A sharp crack split the air ahead as something broke free above them. The drift let go all at once.

Cole yanked Emily back, wrapped one arm around her and shielded her with his body as a wall of snow crashed off the roof and slammed into the window, sealing it shut.

Silence followed.

Emily realized she’d buried her face against Cole’s chest. His arm was still around her; neither of them moved.

Finally, he looked past her at the window.

“… Well.”

Emily turned.

Outside was nothing but a solid wall of snow.

Cole reached for his radio with one arm.

“Dispatch, this is Alders. Exit’s compromised. We’re internal at the Pumpkin Pie Bakery.” A pause. “Yeah… sitting tight until you can get a plow to Oak Way. Alders out.”

Outside, the wind battered the kitchen walls.

Inside, neither one of them moved.

Cole’s hand was still on the radio. His other arm hadn’t left her waist.

The night was far from over.