Page 47 of The Sugar and Spice Kitchen

A chorus of yeses. Mrs. C. pressed a hand to her chest. Mrs. Bishop looked at Cole like she wanted to frame him and hang him up on her wall.

“The stove?” Emily asked. She hated how small her voice sounded. Nutmeg still clung to her, claws needling through her sweater.

“Creosote buildup—happens with old stoves that haven’t been swept in a while, especially when you’re running them hard.”

Emily felt like a fool. She’d known it was running hot. She’d made a mental note and then she’d let it go.

“But the kitchen⁠—”

“Kitchen’s fine.” Cole’s eyes locked on hers, dark and intense. “Some smoke damage. Air it out, get the chimney swept before you light it again. Structure’s sound.”

The relief hit her so hard her knees nearly buckled. She looked up at him, at the sharp line of his jaw, his rough stubble, the muscle jumping in his neck like he was fighting the same pull she was.

God, she wanted to hate him. She did hate him. But right now, every inch of her was stupidly, traitorously aware of how solid, capable and infuriatingly attractive he was.

She cleared her throat, hoping it would help clear her mind. “Thank you, truly. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost Nana’s bakery.”

He didn’t move. For a long second he just looked down at her, close enough that she could see the soot smudged across his jaw, the way the cold had sharpened the line of his cheekbones. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then snapped back up to her eyes.

“You did the right things.” His voice had gone rougher. Emily felt it everywhere. “Got everyone out. Called it in. That matters.”

She should step back. She knew she should step back. But the adrenaline was still buzzing through her, and he smelled like woodsmoke and cold air and something underneath that was just him, and her body was leaning in before her brain caught up.

Cole’s eyes darkened. His hand came up—she thought he was going to touch her face; she wanted him to touch her face⁠—

Then he stepped back.

“You should, uh.” It was his turn to be flustered. The great Cole Alders, clearing his throat like a teenager. “Get the chimney swept before you light it again. I can send someone.”

“Right,” Emily said. “Right. Yes. The chimney.”

They were both nodding like idiots. Emily became suddenly, horribly aware of six women standing on the sidewalk behind her, every single one of them watching with undisguised fascination.

Cole must have realized it at the same moment, because something shuttered behind his eyes.

Then he turned and walked back to untie Captain, who’d been sitting patiently in the snow the entire time, tail wagging like this was the most exciting walk they’d ever been on.

“Well now…” Mrs. C. said, sharing a look between the older ladies.