Page 8 of Cold Snap

She bursts out laughing. "All the time."

"Good. I want you to tell your entire life story to Fred the Snowman over the next half hour."

Damn, I love the way her eyes dance as she looks up at me. "I don't think I'm a very good storyteller."

I grin, threading our fingers together, not ever wanting to let her go. "My beautiful angel, you're already my favorite book and I haven't even started reading it yet."

6

ROSA

Both the stove and my main workspace are slightly around the corner from the rest of the kitchen, so nobody comes into my work zone. It works well. You don't want to disturb the girl with the sharp knives and the hot surfaces.

Nobody notices that I've opened the window several inches and have been facing it while I mutter to myself, or that for the past hour Baz has been standing right outside the window, leaning against the sill, hanging on my every word.

He seems fascinated that I was named for my Italian great-grandmother. My mother says that's why I'm a cook, because she was a legend in the kitchen. Apparently I met her when I was a few months old, but of course I don't remember that.

Baz is named for his grandfather Sebastian Clancy Adams, who owned a huge parcel of land on Wolfe Mountain. He doesn't ever come out and say it, but it sounds like his family is pretty wealthy. He doesn't have to work, just keeps an eye on his investment portfolio, and maintains his land and house, and the nearby trails.

It sounds like Moore and Dylan are his only close friends, and they banded together in university as quiet kindred spirits who understood that a lot of the time there's no need for chatter.

"And yet here you are, forcing me to chit chat while I'm working," I laugh, as I pull fresh bread out of the oven.

"Tell me what high school was like for you," Baz whispers through the open window. "I bet you were super popular. With a sweet face like yours, I'll bet everyone wanted to be your friend."

There's no way to hide the way my hands start to shake in my oven mitts as I set the bread aside.

"Shoot," he says, forcing me to look into his deep, smoldering eyes. "I'm sorry. I think I messed up. Whatever it is, we'll talk about it later."

I shake my head. "Nothing to talk about." I could make some excuse to get away, but I can't lie to him. "You're probably getting cold. Don't you miss the library and that nice fireplace?"

Thick fingers reach in the window and he beckons for me to take his hand. "I need to know all about you, angel. That way I can learn how to care for you properly."

Staring at him, I can't believe he just said that. "What am I, a houseplant?" I try to laugh. "I come with watering and sunlight instructions?"

His fingers squeeze mine. "You know what I mean. I want to do everything right with you." His thumb runs gently across my skin. "I've never been in a proper relationship, Rosa. And I'm determined to do this right." He snorts. "Except for the sneaking around while you work part. This is temporary."

My head jerks up. Someone is coming closer. Squeezing his fingers one last time, I release his hand and quickly turn back to the stove.

"See you soon." His whisper trails away, as I try to refocus on the menu.

A man like him can't possibly be interested in a girl like me. It just doesn't make sense.

Although… I glance to the far end of the kitchen, where Kallie and Maya are cleaning something together. It's pretty clear that Maya and Dylan are becoming a couple. If Kallie and Moore are as well, that leaves Baz with me. Like, I'm not a choice. I'm the one left over. Unless he's into older women, and Mrs. H. is his type. Although I doubt it.

Maybe he just wants to get lucky on his vacation, and assumes everything he heard in high school is true.

Blonde girls with big boobs must be easy.

7

BAZ

Last night was yet another incredible meal courtesy of Rosa while chatting with my buddies and drinking a bit too much wine. It's pretty entertaining that although we never really get drunk, we do get chatty.

Last night we skirted around the issue that we've all been feeling lonely, and are all committed to keeping the right woman once we find her. Yet we didn't quite confess that each of us might have found someone.

We're all a bit more closed off in the cold light of day without alcohol to kickstart our honesty, and over scrambled egg and chorizo breakfast burritos and some truly fantastic coffee, the conversation somehow turns to money.

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