Page 64 of Snowed Under

“Oh, I’m handy, babe. Especially when it comes to you.”

She pokes me in the ribs. “Not in front of Fudgey.”

I snort, getting back on my feet. “Like he cares.”

She’s still cuddling him to her chest, and it makes my heart swell. I sure am really turning into a gooey mess with this woman. I don’t know how she brings it out in me, but she does.

We make our way back up the stairs and I push the door to open it, but nothing moves.

I try again with a little more force this time, but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck.”

“Oh shit,” Ainsley says. “I forgot! The agent told me the door sticks sometimes. They were getting someone over to fix it…”

I run a hand over my hair. “I don’t think you were kidding about being snowed under, baby girl.”

“Shit, is there no way out?”

“I have to find some tools. Do you have any?”

”Ummm.” She bites her lip. It’s so adorable. “Not exactly.”

“Hmm.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Well, we have a TV and a couch.” I shrug. “Until I figure out how to get us out of here, we should check the forecast on the news, see if there’s any update.”

“Okay,” Ainsley says, but she’s nervous. I can tell by her wobbly tone and her wariness.

“Hey,” I say, tugging at her sweatshirt. “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll keep you and Fudgey safe. I’ll hunt around and see if I can get us out once we’ve checked the forecast.”

We walk over to the couch and I flick on the TV resting on a set of drawers, quickly finding the channel.

The late news bulletin flashes on the screen. There’s a severe weather warning for Silver Pines and the surrounding areas flashing across the bottom of the screen, urging people to stock up on supplies over the next twenty-four hours. After that, nobody is to venture out until the heavy snowfall subsides after the weekend. My dad was right, after all.

“Shit,” Ainsley and I both say together.

“I think we spoke too soon about being snowed under.” I plop down into the seat as I glance down to Fudgey sitting comfortably in her lap.

CHAPTER 19

AINSLEY

Cole doesn’t seemto panic about being stuck down in the basement with a jammed door and no food supplies, nor the fact that Silver Pines and the surrounding areas are going to have a crazy influx of snow starting in the next twenty-four hours; no one will be able to get out of their homes soon. Panic overtakes the joke I just made about us finding something to do down here. I think about Mom coming home. I need to be there for her.

“You worrying again?” Cole asks, obviously picking up on my tenseness. I know he will keep me and Fudge safe. I’m not worried about that.

“Just my mom,” I say. “She was coming home tomorrow. I need to be there for her.”

“She’s in the best place,” he tells me, rubbing a soothing palm over my arm. “They won’t be letting your mama out with an impending snowstorm.”

“But I need to contact her by morning. She won’t know we’re stuck.”

“I’ll get us out,” he says. “I promise.”

I snuggle to his side and revel in his warmth, even though it’s not overly warm down here at all. Luckily, I have a spare throw rug on the end of the couch, so we don’t freeze to death. “What if you don’t find any tools?”

He flails his hand over toward the laundry area. “I’m sure I’ll find something, no need to panic.” I’m sure his acting like it’s no big deal is for my sake.

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