7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Noelle

I hate that man.

My jaw clenches just as my stomach rumbles . If only my anger were enough for me to survive, but as my stomach just let the entire world know, it's not.

The last hour sitting in my room surrounded by the delicious smells from the kitchen had my mouth watering. And my stomach rumbling. The popcorn did little to quell the hunger pains plaguing me.

I silently stomp my foot.

Dang him! Stew is my favorite, and he knows it. He did this on purpose.

I hear Cole tinkering in the kitchen and can't help but wonder when he became so domestic. The man I knew enjoyed cooking with me , but otherwise, he was all about baseball.

I would die before I admitted this to anyone, but I almost reached out to him when he got injured. All of the news outlets in Florida were talking about how Cole had a freak injury that would likely end his pitching career.

I knew how hard he had worked to get to the major leagues, and I could only imagine how devastated he was. I had his contact info up on more than one occasion but never hit the call button. I was the one who had stopped answering his calls. If I called, would he answer mine?

Fear got the best of me and I couldn't make myself call him.

Then Gran took a turn for the worse, and Cole's injury was all but forgotten. And I met Dean.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and head to the kitchen. There's no point in denying that I'm hungry and that a warm, delicious meal is awaiting me if I only take Cole up on his invitation.

A hard laugh escapes me as I recognize that, for this moment, I am unprepared to fight this battle. I'll pick up the war after I have a full belly.

I can only hope that my hangryness keeps Cole from trying to talk. I'm definitely not in the mood for conversation, especially with him.

When I step in front of the kitchen, I nearly pass out from the goodness that envelopes me, but I can't seem to make my feet step over the threshold. I glance at the two bowls on the table.

I narrow my eyes, and cross my arms at the arrogance of him putting two place settings out.

Movement catches my eyes, and I watch him as he gracefully moves around the kitchen. He grabs some silverware, a pot holder and napkins, then brings them over to the table. He places them in their intended spots before heading back to the stove for the Dutch oven.

There is such ease. It's as if he does this all the time. I feel a thickness in my throat as I watch him, a longing I thought gone filling me. My stomach clenches, and the muscles in my jaw loosen.

He grabs two glasses from the cabinet, a pitcher from the counter, before finally settling in the chair furthest from the door, leaving an open seat for me.

He fills his glass and bowl without acknowledging me standing in front of the door. Despite this being exactly what I want, a heaviness fills me.

My stomach grumbles, and I finally admit defeat, taking the seat next to him.

The kitchen is filled with the sound of tinkling silver hitting glass and liquids pouring, but the weight in the room is heavy and tense.

The first spoonful of stew makes it to my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to groan out loud. The beef is melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and the flavors bursting on my tongue have me closing my eyes.

When the yummy goodness hits my stomach, I can hear its thank you whispering to every part of my body. I open my eyes and glance in Cole's direction, but nothing reflecting on his face tells me he's noticed my reaction.

After what feels like a few hours but actually is mere minutes, I break. I've always been awful with silence. It drives me crazy. Now Cole, on the other hand, can go forever. His athletic training has given him an ability to focus that I will never have.

"What were you doing back outside earlier?" I quickly shove a spoonful of stew in my mouth as if to punish myself for speaking, but I moan as my senses are overloaded as the savory tastes hit my tongue.

I look up when I don't hear any response, only to meet gleaming green eyes. A shock runs through my body and leaves me momentarily forgetful of why I looked up in the first place.

"Mike called earlier to let me know a storm is coming. I checked on the generator to make sure it was good to go if we needed it." My eyes follow his hand as he lifts the spoon to his mouth and chews. "And chopped some more wood."

"Oh," I say, slightly breathless, but then what he actually said hits my brain. "Wait. Did you say a storm?"

"I did." He picks up his cup and takes a sip without saying anything else.

"What kind of storm?" I fish for more details when I realize he won't provide them.

"A blizzard, possibly."

My mouth drops, and my eyes pop open. "Did you just say a blizzard?"

"I did." He shrugs. His lips are pressed together as if trying to hold back a smile, but it breaks free when he sees my expression.

"Mel planned this," I scoff, and he laughs, eliciting a glare from me.

"Does Mel have some sort of magical weather powers I'm unaware of?" I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and watch in real-time as he tries to control his facial expressions. "We've all been watching the storm for the last few days, but as of yesterday, it looked to be heading further west and was just supposed to skim us."

He doesn't say anything else as he grabs another spoonful of stew. Meanwhile, I'm just staring at him with my jaw still hanging on the table.

"And?" I prompt, trying to get more information.

"And it shifted," he says calmly, then continues to eat. "We'll most likely be getting the brunt of it and can expect at least a foot and a half."

He glances over at me and must see the worry I'm feeling reflected in my eyes. But he misreads it as fear of the storm rather than fear of being snowed in with him.

"Don't worry, bug." My eyes harden at his nickname for me and he immediately recognizes his mistake. "Sorry. Don't worry, Noelle. We have plenty of gas for the generator and more than enough wood in case we lose power. Mel had me shop for an army so we won't run out of food anytime soon."

His comforting tone causes my frozen heart to crack a smidge, and I immediately look down at my stew. I move my spoon back and forth in my bowl, trying to distract myself from the comfort that fills my body at having someone try to make me feel safe .

When was the last time that someone tried to take care of me? Gran? Definitely not Dean.

When Cole and I were together, he always ensured that I felt safe, and here he is doing it again. The stew, preparing for the storm and the nurturing tone of his voice.

A lump forms in my throat, and tears sting the back of my eyes. I've been dreaming of a white Christmas in this cabin since I started my twenty-two hundred mile trip here. Decorating the tree, a roaring fire and freshly baked cookies. Time spent with friends filled with laughter and love filling the cabin.

The last time I had a Christmas like that was ten years ago.

"I love him," Gran whispers in my ear, giving me a loud kiss on the cheek and squeezing my shoulders. "He's the perfect man for you, and my dear, he is head over heels in love with you."

"I know." I can see Cole in the living room putting the star on the tree, and my heart smiles. I lean into Gran's hug. "I'm so glad that you're finally getting to meet him. The time we've got to spend with you has been so special. I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetie, or should I say ‘Bug'." Gran's eyes gleam as she grins at me.

"I know it's the corniest, but I love it." She laughs with me.

"It's adorable." A wide smile crosses her face. "Especially because of ‘Belle'."

Her laughter rings out as she walks over to Cole to critique the star's position. It's a bit more to the right than Gran likes, and she's going to make him fix it.

A smile breaks across my face as I put the cookies in the oven and set the timer, then head over to the two people I love most in the world.

I look up at Cole's strong profile and feel the ice around my heart thaw just a bit more.

"Thank you for dinner. It was delicious." I pick up my bowl and cup, and put them in the sink. I should clean up since he cooked, but the truth is I'm in a panic, and if I don't get away from him, I might start to hyperventilate.

A blizzard means that Mel and Mike won't be here tomorrow. It means I'll be alone with Cole for another thirty-six hours, at least. Every moment I spend with him reminds me of all the things I loved about him, of how much it hurt when I let him go.

How devastated I was when he told me to move on. My stomach is in knots. I grab my phone, put my coat and boots on and head out the door.

A gust of wind blows my hair and burns my face as I step outside, dialing Mel's number.

Snowed in at Christmastime would be perfect, if it was anybody but Cole.