11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Noelle

When Cole sits down across from me, I do my best to act like I am not affected by the woodsy scent wafting across the table and wrapping me up in a Cole blanket. My senses are on overload, and I can feel my nerves getting twitchy being this close to him.

The sound of silverware hitting porcelain as we dig into our breakfast grates on my already unsettled nerves.

"This is delicious," Cole says, breaking the silence just before he sticks another stack of pancakes in his mouth.

"Oh, good. I'd hate for you to think that I was trying to cook badly just for you." I smirk and scoop a forkful of scrambled eggs in my mouth. When I glance back up his gaze crashes into mine with a teasing expression, making my heart stutter and my smirk falter.

Thankfully, he goes right back to eating, and I have the time I need to pull myself together. I clamp down on the tingling in my chest, reminding myself that opening my heart to the man across from me right now is not smart.

I'm emotionally unavailable.

So then , why is every fiber of you drawn to him, huh?

"I know the view is pretty from this window." I nod my head in the direction of the window displaying the world blanketed in white. "But how bad is it from outside?"

When you need to corral wild thoughts running free in your head, the weather is always a safe bet.

"The big snowflakes falling are pretty beautiful," Cole says, taking a sip of his coffee before scooping up more eggs. "But when the wind picks up, you get a preview of what we can expect later."

I watch him put the forkful of eggs in his mouth and swallow hard before dragging my eyes away.

"What's the forecast?" I take a sip of my coffee and then bite a piece of bacon.

Cole's hand freezes halfway to his mouth before he clears his throat.

"Did you not look at the weather app?" A grin appears as he shakes his head.

"Do I ever look at the weather app?" I chuckle.

I glimpse sadness flicker across his eyes before the teasing twinkle returns. "I seem to recall that was something you did not do."

If the air around us is any indication, this conversation just went from light to heavy. So much for a safe conversation. I'm not sure there is such a thing as a safe conversation with Cole.

"I still don't." Cole laughs out loud as I hold my coffee and shrug. "I can't control the weather, so there's no point in worrying about it. And if—"

"If anything bad is happening…" A softness fills his eyes, and my heart drops into my stomach. "Someone will tell you."

"Still true today." I nod and exhale, slowly squeezing my mug to distract me from the flutters attacking my heart. "Sooo…what is the forecast?"

"The current forecast, which keeps getting updated, says that we should expect up to forty-five mile per hour wind gusts and at least a foot of snow."

"Didn't you say we already have at least half a foot?" Weather is just way too unpredictable for me. It's why I wasn't drawn to meteorology. I like my science to give me more of a concrete answer. Meteorology feels like a guessing game.

I still can't believe people get paid for "predictions."

"Yup." A smirk crosses his face. "But that's why meteorology isn't a science."

"Come on!" I roll my eyes, and he laughs at me. "You must admit that meteorology doesn't feel like a real science."

He throws his head back, resting his hand on his chest as his laughter rumbles through the cabin.

I glare at him and shake my head, but I can't stop the grin working its way across my lips.

"You're the science girl, not me." The mischievous gleam in his eyes tells me all I need to know about his thoughts.

I quickly glance into my almost-empty cup to avoid getting lost in those memories. I push my chair back and head to the counter.

"Do you want the rest?" I ask, holding the carafe out after filling my cup. Thankfully, he was eating and not watching me.

"That would be great, thank you." I pour the remainder of the coffee into his cup and then put the empty carafe on the now-cool heating plate before returning back to my seat.

We fall back into silence as we finish eating, and I do my best not to be so aware of his every movement. It's much easier said than done since I've never been more aware of a person in my entire life than I am of Cole.

It made tutoring him extremely difficult in the beginning. How do you keep your mind focused on chemistry–ironic–when every nerve in your body is honed in on a single person?

You don't, that's how. Luckily, I could teach chemistry in my sleep.

A trumpet breaks the silence as Frank Sinatra's version of Let It Snow fills the room, and I hear Cole humming.

Although his humming settles something in me, I feel a light quiver in my stomach.

I push my chair back, grab my empty plate and start the clean-up. Cole grabs his and follows suit. I put out my hand.

"You cleaned last night."

"Didn't you lecture me about how whoever doesn't cook has to clean?" He raises his eyebrows, his eyes dancing.

I hold his eyes and stick out my hand. When he stares at me, a grin forms on his face and I push my hand closer. He chuckles, handing over the plate.

"Thank you." I turn on the water and start rinsing the plates, then try to hand it over to him. He gives me a lopsided grin but doesn't take it. "You can put everything in the dishwasher."

"Oh, I can, can I?" His eyebrows shoot up, and his grin widens. "You have a lot of faith in me."

Now, that's a loaded statement that I choose to ignore. I push the plate toward him. He takes it and opens the dishwasher, which puts some distance and space between us.

We get into a groove of me rinsing and him organizing. The simple gesture helps to calm my nerves.

"Do you like being a firefighter?" I ask, trying to distract myself from how easy it is to be with him like this. "Or maybe a better question is, what's it like to have Mike as your boss?"

He gives that deep chuckle that causes the hair on my arms and nape of my neck to stand on end. My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath and release it slowly.

"Mike's easy to work for. He's a great leader, and no one knows more about the trade than he does." He's silent for a moment, but I get the impression that he's trying to figure out how to say what he wants. "It was a good place to land after my professional career ended."

His voice is a bit tight, but other than that, I don't hear any bitterness or resentment about his early retirement from baseball.

"I can only imagine you were devastated when you got injured." I softly respond, unsure why I thought this was a good topic. Maybe I just shouldn't talk to Cole at all. That may be the only way to keep my emotions in check.

Being around him is proving dangerous to my emotional and mental state. He's always had a way of breaking through my defenses.

I notice his hand in front of me, and I look up at him and pull my brows together.

"Are you done rinsing that yet?" He's pressing his lips together to hold back the smile that wants to break free.

I look down at the plate under the water. "Oh yeah. Here you go."

I reach toward the stove and grab two frying pans.

"I knew my career wasn't going to last forever; I just expected it to last more than a few years," he says, responding to my comment. "But being a fireman has its rewards."

"So, how many cats have you rescued from trees?" I wiggle my eyebrows at him, getting him to laugh at me.

"None, actually," he says, humor dripping from his tone. Then he chuckles. "They all seem to run away from me."

"What?!" I burst out laughing and hand him the last frying pan before turning off the water and drying my hands with the towel. "What do you mean they all run away from you?"

"They run away.' He shrugs, closing the dishwasher door. Then, he shoves his hands in his pockets. "The first time it happened, we moved the ladder and I tried again, only to have the cat leap into a completely different tree. They called me down, and someone else went up. They didn't have a problem."

"You're lying!" I swat the dish towel at him, laughing. The back and forth of his head has me giggling.

"I'm not, I swear!" He places a hand on his heart and grins. "But it wasn't until the second time that it happened that I got my nickname."

I watch a flush creep up his face, and a grin spreads across my face.

"They gave you a nickname?" I cover my mouth. "What is it?"

"Well, it's not that abnormal." He shrugs as the flush gets deeper. "Everyone gets a nickname. It's tradition."

My heart quickens at his sheepishness. Cole, for all his confidence, was easy to embarrass if you struck the right cord. I lean against the sink and enjoy him squirming as he works to avoid looking at me.

"And yours is?" I push, but he shakes his head, and I chuckle.

I hear a buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

"Saved by the bell." He lifts his eyebrows at me, and I can't stop the giggle that escapes as he walks out of the kitchen and takes Mike's call.