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I chuckle, knowing how inviting the pull of the sofa is but also that breakfast doesn’t make itself. “True, but I’m thinking we need some sustenance before we take on this snow-locked day. I’m going to make us breakfast.”
She stretches, arms going wide, resembling nothing so much as a contented cat. “Do you need help with breakfast?” she offers, though her stance suggests she’s quite pleased to remain bundled up.
“I’ve got this,” I assure her, motioning toward the fireplace. “Why don’t you stay put and enjoy the fire.”
“If you insist.” With mock reluctance, Scarlett finally nods while Minnie gives me a look as if to say she’s judging my breakfast preparation skills already.
Heading into the kitchen, I take stock of what’s available. Luckily, I planned well for being trapped by a snowstorm or two, so there’s plenty to work with. I gather some eggs, bacon, and bread, determined to whip up a breakfast that will impress my firecracker.
The clamor of cooking soon fills the cabin, the sizzle of bacon a counterpoint to the wind's fury outside.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Scarlett basking in the fire’s glow, her eyes closed as she soaks in the warmth, her whole demeanor at ease despite the wildness blowing outside. In that moment, I know everything is right in my world.
“Breakfast is ready,” I announce, balancing plates heaped with bacon and eggs.
“This looks fantastic,” she praises, taking her seat, her eyes flitting appreciatively over the plates between us.
I shake my head with a grin, pouring steaming cups of coffee to accompany the meal. “I hope it tastes good, too. Now, dig in before it gets cold.”
Chapter 8
Scarlett
After we’ve cleared away the remnants of breakfast, Noah pulls me toward the sofa, where piles of warm, cozy blankets wait for us.
“Ready for a Christmas movie marathon?” he asks, wagging a remote like a scepter, his grin contagious.
Minnie, already bored with her morning hover and now prowling the edges of the rug, seems to agree, giving it an experimental swat as if ensuring it doesn’t step out of line.
I add a final layer of blankets over myself before settling into Noah’s side, feeling his warmth spread through the material. “Absolutely. Hit play, I’m ready for all the cheesy holiday goodness.”
The first movie flickers to life on the screen and we melt into the cushions.
Noah maneuvers himself under the blankets, stretching an arm around me, and pulling me close. My head naturally finds his shoulder as I snuggle in, not really paying attention to the cheerful movie.
As the story unfolds, I let my eyes wander. I’m increasingly aware of the rhythm of Noah’s breathing beside me, and the reassuring warmth of his large, muscular body hugging me close.
His hand slides under the blanket, landing softly and with intent on my side, fingers lightly tracing patterns that erase the movie from my mind entirely. Each touch sends goosebumps skittering along my skin, and the world fades down to nothing but us.
I glance up at him, catching the subtle curve of his smile and the chemistry hanging in the air.
His hand continues its exploration, drawing abstract shapes on my overheated skin, and while my focus should be on the screen, I can’t summon the will to care one bit about the movie’s holiday plot. This little bubble is all that matters.
Propping myself up slightly for a better look at him, I ask, “Are you purposely attempting to distract me?”
“That’s my plan.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh, rolling my eyes at his silliness.
“I love your plan,” I tease, knowing fully that distraction is mutual.
“I’m glad because I love you.” He pulls me closer. “And I want to make you happy.”
His words melt my heart. He stands abruptly, and those stormy blue eyes dance with mischief. “Come on, firecracker. Movie night’s been grand, but I think it’s time for a little adventure.”
Before I fully process what that means, he scoops me up effortlessly. “What are you doing?” I squeal, laughter escaping as I’m lifted from the couch and cradled against his muscular chest. He’s solid and firm, his grip secure, and it feels thrillingly absurd.
“You’ll see,” he declares, striding toward the bedroom, and I can barely contain my giggles.
At the bedroom door, he stops abruptly, and with a swift move, he kicks it closed, blocking Minnie’s outraged meows from following us in. “Minnie will have to manage without us for a bit,” he says with a playful grin, his tone light but his intentions clearly teasingly serious.
