“With all the Christmas decorations in this place, I’m surprised there’s no mistletoe.” He grinned. “And trust me, I’ve been looking for it.”
“The lodge has a single one-star rating and it was written by a guy that Andy literally pushed out the front door and into a snowbank while Rosie shoved all his stuff into a bag and threw it out the door after him.” Nola laughed when Ian’s eyes widened. “He seemed to think mistletoe trumped consent. He was wrong. Rosie said it was satisfying to watch him digging through the snowbank for his truck keys, but she decided they’d skip the mistletoe in the future.”
“And the guy had the nerve to leave a one-star review?”
“He did. But the funny thing is that we’ve gotten several bookings from that review because they felt safer about bringing their families here.”
“I usually only read the three and four-star reviews for anything because that’s where people actually talk about the good and bad, rather than just saying they loved it or hated it, but I’m sorry I missed that one.”
“And how many stars willyoube giving us, Mr. Emerson?”
“Oh, definitely five stars,” he said, running his hand up her back. “I mean, look at the organization in this pantry.”
She was laughing when they were interrupted by a loud and deliberate throat-clearing on the other side of the door. “I hate to interrupt, but the Hendersons are having coffee and the sugar bowl is empty, so if you could just open the door enough to hand the sugar out, I’d appreciate it.”
Ian’s horror must have shown on his face because Nola laughed at him. “We’re not naked in your pantry, Rosie.”
The older woman sighed as Nola opened the door. “Well, that’s certainly disappointing.”
“Yes,” Nola said, grinning at him. “Yes, it is.”
“Can you hand me the sugar, Ian? It’s right there, behind you.” He found the plastic container with the neatly printed label on it and handed it to Rosie, who smiled.
“Thank you,” she said, and then she closed the door, leaving them in near-darkness again.
The light shining through the slats illuminated the amused sparkle in Nola’s eyes, though. “You look like a kid whose mom just walked in on him in the bathroom and caught him with her bra catalog and favorite hand cream.”
“Oh, is that what my face looked like back then?” When her eyes widened, he chuckled. “I’m kidding. If that had actually happened, I wouldn’t be here because I’d still be hiding under my bed.”
He liked the way she leaned in when she laughed, her hands braced against his chest and her head tipped back. And more than anything, he wanted to kiss her again, but he was afraid he might lose track of the fact Rosie might need some flour or a jar of pickles at any moment.
“I guess we should go back out there,” she said, sounding reluctant to leave their hiding spot.
“I don’t know if I can face Rosie without exploding from the embarrassment,” he admitted.
“Trust me, it takes a lot more than two people kissing in her pantry to fluster Rosie Miller.”
When Nola opened the door, he was relieved to see that the kitchen was empty. Maybe Rosie wasn’t flustered, but he couldn’t really say the same for himself. He’d stayed in a lot of establishments over the years, and this was the first time he’d ever been caught making out with a member of the staff in the kitchen pantry.
He probably wouldn’t include that part in his review.
It didn’t take longfor Nola to regret having left the pantry. Maybe it was small, but at least she’d been somewhat alone with Ian. The cold had everybody stuck inside, including Josh because he’d given up on trying to get the kids to take a nap. He and Andy were trying to handle some snowmobile club business while chasing Nate and Bella, and Rosie was fussing over everybody. The Hendersons were playing games in the dining room. Maddie and Jacob were in the living room.
Short of dragging him back into the basement, quiet time with Ian was out. It was too cold to even go for a walk.
She was helping Rosie go over her holiday prep lists to make sure she hadn’t missed anything when Ian entered the kitchen again. The poor guy was so bored, he kept wandering from room to room, hoping somebody would be doing something interesting. He clearly wasn’t a man who liked to sit and do nothing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “When we drove through town on the way in, I realized it would be a lot easier to gas the truck up without the trailer attached to it. I’ll probably go do that now, since there’s nothing else going on.”
“Oh, Nola, I need that bourbon butter cake recipe we talked about it,” Rosie said. “If Ian’s going to town to gas up, maybe you can ride with him and stop by your house to grab it.”
Nola narrowed her eyes, giving Rosie a look that made it perfectly clear she knew what the older woman was up to. “You said you’re making the cake for New Year’s. There’s plenty of time.”
“You know how I am,” Rosie replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I like to make a new recipe a couple of times to see if I want to make any adjustments. It’s busy around the holidays, so I have to sneak it in when I have the chance.”
“Trust me, my grandmother’s bourbon butter cake doesn’t need any adjustments.”
“I wouldn’t mind having company,” Ian said quietly, and the temperature in the room seemed to spike a few degrees as Nola turned to face him.
