Page 17 of Cabin Fever With My First Flame

Before I can stop her, Bailey opens the front door and comes face-to-face with a pile of snow up to her chin. Her mouth drops open, and she just stands there in shock from the amount of fresh powder that has fallen in the past 24 hours. If that isn’t bad enough, the wind blows Bailey’s hair back and gifts her with a face full of frozen flakes.

I run over and shut the door, then take the bowl from the statue standing in front of me. I laugh as Bailey blinks rapidly, processing the magnitude of the storm outside. “You’re not supposed to eat the snow,” I joke.

Bailey shakes out her hair and wipes her face. “I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t yellow.”

Chapter eleven

Bailey

Finn gets a roaringfire going in the fireplace, and I take a few minutes to sit near the heat and thaw out before resuming my duties in the kitchen. For the next couple of hours, the eight of us operate like a well-oiled machine. Ella and Micah help the younger kids measure out the dry ingredients while Finn whips the softened butter for me.

By the time we’re finished, six bowls of dough need to be refrigerated. Micah suggests putting them on the back porch, which is blocked by the wind and doesn’t have over five feet of snow blocking the exit.

“How come we have to wait to cut out the cookies?” Isaac asks. “I don’t remember Mom making us wait.”

Micah jumps to my rescue and answers for me, “That’s because Mom would make a batch the night before so that it was ready right away. It was her little secret.”

“That’s actually a great idea. I never thought about doing that,” I tell them. “If you want to come over to our house next year and help us make cookies, I’ll make sure to have some ready.”

“That would be awesome!” the twins exclaim in unison.

Finn’s radio squawks in the other room, and he excuses himself while I sit with the kids and take a breather. “Is anyone up for playing a game?” I ask.

“When aren’t we?” Micah retorts. “We have first-person shooter games, strategy games, and racing games.”

Ella giggles. “My mom is referring to board games. She doesn’t know the first thing about playing video games or how to use a controller.”

“Oh. We have a few in the hall closet,” Micah says as he starts to get up.

I wave my hands, indicating he should sit back down. “I can get it.”

Micah’s brows furrow. “Are you sure? The board games are on the top shelf.”

“I’m short, but notthatshort! How about I’ll call you if I need any help?” Micah is a sweet kid, and he’ll be a good influence on Ella when school starts after the holidays. I’m glad Ella will have a friend and someone to show her the ropes. Mia won’t care and prefers to keep to herself, while Ava has never had a problem making friends.

I head down the hallway and open the closet, perusing the games on the top shelf. Pictionary seems to be the best bet since it can be played with teams and is always good for a laugh. I’m once again forced to stand on the tips of my toes in order to reach it. Just when I think I’ve got it, a giant hand hovers above me and nabs it.

I spin around and come face-to-face with Finn’s broad chest, clad in a black, form-fitting T-shirt that hugs all his muscles. They’ve been difficult to ignore all morning, but I’ve been sneaking in peeks here and there and admiring the view. There’s no ignoring them now, and I involuntarily lick my lips.

Finn’s eyes darken when the tip of my tongue slowly glides across my bottom lip, and he takes a small step forward. “Do you like what you see, Bailey?”

“Hmm?”

He chuckles lightly. “I asked if you like what you see.”

“It’s not bad if you’re into muscular physiques and bulky biceps—which I’m not, by the way. I just don’t remember your muscles being quite so big or your chest so broad.”

“And what are you into, Bailey Bug?” he asks huskily, using his nickname for me. I told him not to do it, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to chastise him for it at this moment. I’ve always loved the way the name rolled off his tongue, mainly because he always used it as a sign of affection. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I need affection—even if it’s just verbally.

“Short and scrawny. Then I don’t have to look up and get a crick in my neck.”

“I can massage your neck for you,” Finn offers and then runs the tip of his finger from my neck, across my shoulder, and down to my wrist. He entwines his fingers with mine and brings my hand up to his lips. I almost take him up on his offer, but then he smiles, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. I’m in the mood for a game, but not the kind he’s playing.

“As lovely as that sounds, a hot bath would also do the trick.” I take the Pictionary box from his hands and change the subject as fast as I can. “What was the call on the radio all about?”

Finn steps back to give me some breathing room and walks beside me into the living room. “Chief was informing me that the town has seven feet of snow, and the plows are barely keeping up. New York, including our tiny town, has entered into a state of emergency and the governor has mandated that everyone is to shelter in place for the time being.”

“Were they calling you in?” I ask.

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