Finding Me in the Storm (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

Chapter Four

Nate

“How are you at baking?” I ask Elaina as I come into the living room on the second full day of our quarantine by virtue of snow.

“I’m not the best,” she says as she turns from the book in her hands. “Why?”

“I thought we could bake some cookies or maybe a mini cake?” I tell her.

She squints at me as if she is on to my nonsense. I can’t help it as I bite down on my lip. That adorable look on Elaina’s face just fires me up more to hold to the joke. I had the best day I can remember yesterday with her, watching movies and remaking the dialogue. Then we played card games and a board game with a recommended age range of six to ten years of age, and laughter filled the space, unlike any time before in recent memories. The uptight doctor seems to have gone on hiatus during this snowstorm, and this new Elaina has my full attention.

“I would absolutely love to make cookies or a cake,” she says. “What is the punch line? You will not lace it with something sour or make it blow up, are you?”

I laugh loudly at that. “No. Though if you have ideas on how to make it fizz or blow up, I’m game.”

“You would be,” she mutters.

“Hey now, what does that mean?”

“I was caught in more than one practical joke by the guys in my classes over the year. Even at thirty, some doctors find joy in messing with us during the shift,” she bites back at me.

“So, are you honestly saying I’m guilty just because I’m a man?” I question.

“If the shoe fits,” she retorts with a shrug.

“Hey now, I resent that comment,” I tell her as I move back into my room. “I was just thinking that we could use this little baking set and mini oven my sister gifted me as a joke a few years ago.”

She looks at the tiny little oven, and tears rise in her eyes from how much Elaina laughs. I have to join in, as the idea of the two of us around this child’s toy attempting to make cakes and cookies makes for some interesting pictures in my head. I have to admit with all the ladies I’ve met over the years, I can’t come up with one that would be game for such a crazy day stuck in a cabin. I’m waiting to see if Elaina rises to this occasion.

“Let’s do it,” she says, and I feel my heart constrict. “I mean, I’m all for a chocolate cake or cookies in whatever form they come in.”

I move the toy to the table in the kitchen.

“These are the tiniest packets,” she giggles, pulling one from the box and starting to read the instructions.

“They only require water,” I cackle at her. “This is so crazy. Do you really think this little, teeny oven is going to work?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she says, taking a picture on her phone. “I’m definitely going to document this process to have extortion down the road if the need ever arises.”

“Hey now,” I tell her, reaching for the phone.

As I move close to her, our eyes meet, and I can feel the heat of her radiate toward me. The syrupy warmth I’m getting used to having her around seeps into every pore I possess. Everything around me fades away as the very essence of her registers. I have never felt this level of connection with another person.

“Okay, so are you really doing this?” she asks as she moves to the cabinet to grab a bowl. “You know I wanted one of these little ovens for years as a little girl. My mother was scared I might burn the house down or something. I am just tickled you have this.”

“Yeah, well, Luna told me that I apparently asked Santa three years in a row for one as a kid,” I confess. “I don’t remember that, but it sounds like me. I have always loved food from an early age. Besides, there were all these amazing foods you could bake in your room. I figured that it could have replaced an oven for me in a college dorm or maybe my first apartment if times got rough.”

“Instead, you got to travel the world on someone else’s dime, modeling,” Elaina teases. “I guess the mini oven wasn’t needed, so why did Luna get you this after so many years?”

I notice she is mixing up a cake as I start doing the same with a small bag of cookie mixture. Seriously, if someone were to walk in on this crazy scene—there would be many questions. Not a child in sight, but we are having a mini bake-off. This will go down as one of the craziest things I’ve done in a long time and one of the funniest. The fact that Elaina is so game pretty much means I have to get rid of the Dr. Know It All and stick-in-the-mud descriptors for her. That is the best surprise of all, finding how amenable she is to just go with the flow—no matter the direction life takes her.

“Well, when I bought this cabin and the land next to the resort for my personal use, it was rough. I told her that the stove wouldn’t work and that we could eat at the lodge. She thought we could test the theory I always had on this tiny kid stove keeping me alive,” I tell her.

“And. Did it work?”

“My mother was horrified and told me if I tried to serve her from this mini oven, she would disown me. Personally, I think she had her eye on some of the tasty Christmas treats my German chef had planned at the resort and was not entertained by these delicacies.”

“Oh, I bet. Your mom is a foodie. She would come into the city to visit and always had a new restaurant for Luna and me to try with her,” Elaina reports. “It was great. I can tell you that I love Thai food. Anything that is still alive when they bring it to the table, I’m not eating, no matter how dead it is later.”

I laugh at the look of horror written across her face.

“That bad?”

“Baby octopus. We had this super high-end dinner for a charity that Luna won for your mom. They brought this octopus to the table for us to inspect,” Elaina tells me with her lip curled and disgust radiating from her face. “I just couldn’t. Nope. I don’t even know how to describe it, but when they brought the calamari back, I nearly threw up. Also, lobsters with their little pinchers,” she announces with this sweet baby tone. “Why? I would just prefer, after working with beat-up and bloodied patients all day, not to have to think about the trauma inflicted on my food. I’ve considered vegetarianism for years due to this aversion.”

“Oh, yeah, nope. I love a good steak way too much to go fully vegetarian. Don’t get me wrong, I’m big on all the things people can cook with vegetables these days. I’m also sometimes in need of a thick, juicy steak.”

“Agree. Just please don’t bring the cow to my table,” Elaina adds. “Okay, you ready to see if we can do this?”

She has the cutest little cake pan ready for the oven. Her glowing, happy face enthralls me. For two adults stuck for days behind a mountain of snow, there is no stress evident in this room. I have to wonder how much she seems to adapt to this without a word of complaint after that initial introduction into the cabin.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I tell her as she slots the cake into the tiny space.

“If this blows up or we burn it, you know we have to take this to the grave, right?” She looks up at me with earnest eyes. “I’m a doctor, and this here is the stuff that could tarnish my reputation.”

“If you burn the mini cake, I promise not to announce it via social media to all your coworkers. You do realize you might have to explain this ‘being stuck with a mortal enemy for days in a cabin’ if I were to put this detail out to the world,” I tease.

She glances at me, and I immediately fall into her eyes. “Mortal enemy seems a bit dramatic. Besides, knowing all the nurses and doctors I work with, you would be the most interesting thing to happen to me in years. It would probably benefit my reputation,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“Glad to know I’m good for something,” I reply, as my throat gets a bit dry.

The tension between us is thick. I have this odd urge to lean in and kiss her sweet face. Luckily, I catch myself and turn to the cookies I am in charge of prepping.

“You know what we are going to wish we had in a bit?” Elaina says.

“Milk.”

“Yes! Right? You can’t eat cookies or cake without a cold glass of milk.”

“Agreed,” I reply with a huge grin. “Please tell me that you aren’t one of those who has to drink oats, grass, or some nut milk. I like my old-fashioned, from a gallon, cold cow’s milk.”

“I’m with you. Now, I will admit for my lattes, a little almond milk hits differently,” Elaina responds. “Otherwise, I’m just a normal, regular, two percent, but the whole would be amazing right now.”

“Note to self: next time I’m planning to get locked in the cabin for the weekend, bring milk.”

“See all the life lessons you have already learned this weekend. The right way to watch Christmas movies, tiny baking skills, and—of course—you really are terrible at cards,” she remarks with a cackle.

“Hey, now. I still contend you were cheating,” I tell her with a glare. “No one can win that many games in a row. It’s just not possible. It goes against the laws of physics or something.”

That makes her laugh even harder.

“You think physics has a say in cards? I think you might be slightly mistaken there. Maybe you just really need to be schooled in the art of deception and sandbagging,” Elaina says. “I once read an entire book on how to master your facial moves and also strategy in cards. We had a charity match for our sorority, and being the brainiac, as everyone called me, a lot was riding on me.”

“How many books all together do you think you have read—as an adult?”

“You know what I do for a living, right?” Elaina questions with an arched brow. “It’s a lot of books that go into my line of work. Then, I enjoy a solid mystery for my downtime, as well as learning hobbies and other interesting subjects. I would bet thousands, but I couldn’t even reckon a guess. How about you?”

“Probably less than twenty. I do, however, enjoy videos when learning about new construction ideas, business, or financial planning. Also, I’ve recently started listening to podcasts when working out or just in my office doing paperwork.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a lot of friends talk about podcasts. I just haven’t gotten into it myself yet. I love the feel of a good-old-fashioned book.”

“I guess each of us has our deals, and I’m not one to judge. As long as you aren’t sitting idle and letting life pass you by—you do you,” I remark.

“Exactly. Oh, it dinged!” She looks at the oven as the noise sounds.

“You ready for this?” I question as the little cake is brought out by Elaina, using a spatula-looking device.

“Looks good,” she says and leans into sniff. “I think we managed to make a child-sized cake.”

“We are growing and expanding already,” I announce as she laughs with a shake of her head.

This is definitely going down as one of my new favorite memories. Spending time with Elaina, I’m suddenly fully understanding what my sister sees in this amazing lady. She is fun, up for new challenges, and not someone who seems to take herself overly seriously. I guess our first meetings were simply in the wrong time and place. Now, though, I have to wonder if us getting along so well is due to our situation or is there more in these long looks we share? Could this be the start of something enlightening neither of us saw coming?