Page 44 of Love Under Snowfall

Benjamin prepared himself for the inevitable struggle to gain access to the building as they approached. He lacked the strength to bust down the door, and the thought of getting enough speed to hurtle himself shoulder-first into it seemed laughable. He plodded around the perimeter of the house, scanning each window for a point of ingress. The best plan would be to break a window that was low enough to crawl into but far enough from the main room that the gaping hole in the wall wouldn’t affect the heat too much. Traversing the cabin seemed to take forever, but he wanted to be certain he was selecting just the right entrance. Along the way, he spotted two small outbuildings. He’d investigate those later. First order of business: Get inside, get warm.

Finally, he made his way back to the front of the building and stopped dead.

“Francesca?” he called, the shrill holler propelled outward as he pivoted around, scanning for his snowshoe companion. She couldn’t have gotten far.

“You coming in?”

He jumped when she popped her head through the entrance. Chattering teeth did little to hide her mocking expression.

“How did you . . .?” Stepping onto the porch, he knocked the snow off his boots and pants as best he could. The vibration stung his freezing feet. Pins and needles pierced his toes and heel witheach thud. He couldn’t hide the hiss sliding between his teeth.

She winced knowingly.

“They tend to keep these cabins unlocked to prevent broken windows. They’re expensive to replace, especially since they try to keep the exterior as authentic to the original designs as possible.” She shut the door behind him.

A puff of breath swirled around Benjamin’s head as he let out a low whistle. Made of actual trees, the cabin had a life-size Lincoln Log vibe, reminding him of the set he played with as a kid. While the cabin provided much relief from the near-blizzard conditions outside, the internal temperature wasn’t much better. They stood in the quaint living room.

“What the hell were you doing anyways?”

“I was . . .” he trailed off, feeling foolish for attempting to strategize a breach before checking to see if the building was even locked in the first place. He’d make a piss-poor spy. Seven-year-old Benji would have been ashamed. “Never mind.”

“Was there anything of note out there?”

“Two small buildings. Sheds, maybe?”

She nodded, gears churning. “Probably a pit toilet and some kind of utility shed or something. We can investigate them once we’ve warmed up a little.”

Francesca knelt in front of a large, ancient wood-burning stove that stood proudly in one corner with a stack of cut wood beside it. A loud, groaning creak resounded in the chilly room as she tugged open the sooty glass door. Benjamin watched as she used a small hatchet to chop kindling and arranged the dry wood in a neat stack.

He’d never cataloged wilderness survivalist skills among his list of desirable attributes in a woman until the crackle of flames snapped to life in the old cast iron box. The firelight flickered and glimmered in her amber eyes as she grinned over her shoulder. Shewas a vision in winter wear and pride.

Benjamin swallowed thickly and gave her what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Impressed?” Her honeyed tone curled leisurely to his ears.

“Yes.” Oh yes, he was absolutely impressed.

Her grin turned smug. “This old girl should warm things up quickly. They don’t make wood-burning stoves like this anymore. In an hour or two, we’ll be baking like a couple of potatoes.”

An approving growl roared from somewhere deep inside of Benjamin.

“Hungry?” Francesca giggled, rising to her feet.

You have no idea.

Another rolling rumble boomed unmistakably from his stomach.

“It would appear so.” He shrugged, only now recognizing how famished he truly was. It was well into the afternoon, and neither of them had taken the time to eat anything substantial since breakfast.

“Grab whatever you want from my bag; I tend to overpack on snacks. I’ll check to see if there are any dried goods stocked away in the cabinets.”

Benjamin found some jerky and followed her to a small cupboard across the room. He held out the bag and she grabbed a fistful. The top cabinet housed plates, mugs, and cutlery. She crouched and opened the bottom doors.

“MerryfuckingChristmas.” Her breathy sigh caused his stomach to clench. The sound was musical, alluring.

He knelt beside her as she pulled out a square five-gallon bucket. She wrenched the lid off and whooped gleefully. One by one, she pulled out glass jars containing various dry goods. Oats, rice, beans, flour, brown sugar, raisins, nuts, packets of instant yeast, even a small tub of shortening, freeze-dried veggies, andtea bags. Four gallon-sized jugs of sealed water sat in the small cupboard next to where the storage container had been.

“Wait. Should we be eating this?” Benjamin asked wearily.

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