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Emily glanced down at the flour on her apron, while simultaneously feeling her hair escaping from its slipknot, and thought, Sure, why not? The town didn’t care if she was a hot mess, and it bought her some time before having to deal with Cole.

She definitely hadn’t thought about him during her morning power nap. Nope, not at all. She hadn’t spent the entire night replaying every second of that frantic, breathless sex on the cold kitchen floor—the way they’d taken one another hard and fast, no patience left between them. No. She hadn’t.

Just like she hadn’t dreamed about him… inside the doorway of his room, the soft glow of a single lamp painting everything in honeyed light. Cole, still in his shirt and suspenders, dark against his broad chest looking at her like he’d been waiting all day.

“Come here, Whitaker,” he said, voice low and rough with want.

Emily crossed to him without a word and settled into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Her fingers found the first suspender strap, slipping it slowly off his shoulder, letting the elastic fall at his waist. She did the same with the other, savoring the small, deliberate act. Then she worked to lift his shirt so she could press her palms to the warm, solid muscle of his chest. His heart beat hard under her touch.

Cole let her undress him at her own pace, hands resting lightly on her hips, thumbs stroking slow circles through her thin nightgown. When her hands were on his chest, he caught her wrists gently and pulled her in for a deep, unhurried kiss that made her toes curl and heat spread low in her belly like fire.

Then he lifted her easily, switching positions. The mattress dipped under their weight as he laid her down in the center, the sheets already warm from where he’d been sitting. This wasn’t the cold tile, the frantic rush of the night before. Just the two of them and all the time in the world.

Cole stretched out over her, caging her with his body but keeping most of his weight on his forearms. He kissed her again, slower this time, tasting her like he wanted to memorize every sigh. His hand slid under the hem of her nightgown, pushing the fabric up her thighs, over her hips, until he could pull it off completely. The cool air kissed her skin for only a moment before his mouth followed—trailing down her neck, between her breasts, lower still.

Emily arched when his tongue found her, slow and deliberate, teasing until her fingers twisted in his hair and her thighs trembled around his shoulders. He took his time, humming softly against her like he loved the way she tasted. The way she whimpered his name.

“Yoo-hoo, Emily,” Elsie said. And by the way she spoke, it hadn’t been the first time she’d tried to get her attention. “You ready for this interview?”

Emily flushed, straightened, smoothed her apron, and turned toward the camera with her best everything-is-under-control expression.

“So, Emily,” Elsie said, phone raised. “Tell us what’s happening here in your kitchen today.”

Emily smiled. “Well, we’re just doing what this town does best. Taking care of each other. We’ve got the wood-fired stove going, soup on, fresh bread coming out every couple of hours. If you need somewhere warm, somewhere to get a hot meal, you come here.”

“And it was your idea to open your kitchen as a community hub?”

Emily opened her mouth.

“Actually,” Cole said, from directly behind her, inserting himself into the conversation.

Elsie lit up. “Yes, fire chief, please join in.”

Emily fixed her smile in place with considerable effort.

Cole stepped forward and gave the camera a calm, professional statement that probably looked extremely reassuring to everyone watching and was extremely irritating to stand next to. He covered the door-to-door welfare checks, the supply runs, the coordination with the utility company, all of it delivered in that unhurried, authoritative register that made people feel like everything was under control.

“Fantastic,” Elsie said, beaming at them both. “And are the two of you working together on this?”

A beat.

“Yes,” Cole said.

“No,” Emily said, at the same moment.

Elsie looked between them with a bright, professionally neutral expression. “Wonderful. Well, Maple Falls is lucky to have you both.”

Emily went back to the stove.

The front door opened a few minutes later, letting in Mrs. Bishop and the mayor’s wife, Edith, along with their opinions. The older ladies were practically legends in Maple Falls. Emily saw a group of snowmobilers wave as they sped away after dropping the older ladies off.

“Well, my word,” Mrs. Bishop announced to the room, unwinding her scarf. “Wasn’t that ride something. I might just have to get one of those snowmobiles for myself.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea, dear. I’ve seen you drive a golf cart,” Edith replied with a pat on her friend’s shoulder.

“They’re nothing alike!” Mrs. Bishop replied. “Besides, I’m an excellent driver… well, when I can make up my mind which way I should go.”

Edith laughed. Mrs. Bishop was notoriously indecisive.