Page 43 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
I glance up at the shelf. It’s way out of her reach. Without thinking, I step up behind her, my hands resting lightly on her waist. “Here, let me give you a lift.”
She stiffens for just a second before relaxing into my touch. I lift her with ease, and her fingers graze the shelf as she grabs the small bottle of vanilla extract.
“Got it,” she breathes out, her voice a little shakier than usual.
When I set her back down, we’re closer than before—her back to my chest, the scent of her hair filling the small space between us.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Anytime,” I reply, my hands still lingering on her waist for a second longer before stepping back.
“I know I’m a little heavy,” she says.
“What?” I say, confused.
She bites her lip. “Nothing.”
“Emily—” I begin. I don’t quite know what to tell her except that she’s the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen—a round ass, perfect breasts, wide full hips that I could just sink my fingers into while I stroke in and out of her. Fuck.
“You’re perfect,” is all I can manage to say.
Emily turns, her cheeks flushed. “Okay, next on the list—eggs. Let’s stay focused here.”
As Emily continues to stir the batter, I keep reaching for ingredients without thinking. It’s almost second nature—getting the right amount of flour and butter at room temperature and cracking the eggs one-handed like it’s something I do every day. Emily glances at me as I measure out the sugar with precision, her brow furrowing slightly in curiosity.
“You know,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously, “you’re a lot more helpful than I expected.”
I freeze for a second, realizing I’ve let on more than I should have.
“Yeah, well,” I shrug, trying to play it off. “I might know a little more about baking than I let on.”
Emily pauses, the spatula in her hand, and looks up at me, intrigued. “How little?”
I wince, knowing what’s coming. “I, uh...worked part-time as a cake decorator in high school.”
Her mouth drops open, and for a second, she just stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. Then, she bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, are you serious?”
I nod, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah. It was supposed to be just a summer job, but I ended up sticking with it for a while.”
She shakes her head, still laughing. “You? The tough, outdoorsy guy who fights fires for a living...was a cake decorator? I’m sorry but I just don’t see it.”
“Hey, it was a job, alright? Paid well and kept me out of trouble,” I say, but the grin tugging at her lips is contagious.
Emily snickers and turns back to the batter, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “So, does that mean you can handle decorating this cake?”
I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
She puts down the bowl. “You’ve got to show me your skills. I demand proof.”
I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “No way. That was years ago. Besides, it has to be our little secret.”
Her eyes light up with mischief. “Why? You don’t want the guys to know you’ve got a hidden talent?”
“If they find out,” I say, dead serious, “they’ll razz me about it for the rest of my life.”
She laughs, and there’s something about the sound that makes the whole situation feel...lighter. “Why? It’s impressive.”
“Impressive,” I repeat, my tone skeptical. “More like a liability. My friends would never let me live it down.”
