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“It’s called yoga, Eric,” she said simply. My head leant to the side as I tried to follow her movement, her arm wrapping under her stomach as she twisted. Fuck me, wasn’t she going to put her back out doing that? “And it’s very soothing for the soul.”
Shadow barked in agreeance; he’d tried a few times to replicate her downward dog, trying to mirror her as if it was a game. The most distracting part, besides the contorted flexibility, was the tight leggings that clung to Cassidy’s figure and the small crop top she wore, barely enough to cover her bralette underneath every time her arms reached for the roof.
“And you should join me, it’ll be good for you.” She leaned back into what she claimed to be child’s pose. My gaze dropped to the outline of her violet leggings and the way she pushed back, everything spreading and on display. I closed my eyes, partly convinced she knew exactly what she was doing. No, I wasn’t into the singsong types like Cassidy. But I was still a man and fuck did she look good in that getup.
“Sweetheart, if I get down onto my hands and knees on that hard floor, I can assure you I’m not getting back up,” I said, taking a mouthful of coffee.
She tsked, a smile spreading. “I’ll convince you otherwise. If you can split wood with your bare hands you can benefit from a few stretches.”
“I don’t split wood with my bare hands,” I said matter-of-factly. “I cut it with an axe.”
“And cut it well you do…” she quietly drawled out.
An arrogant male pride filled me. “What was that?”
“Nothing!” she stammered as she quickly stood bolt upright, realizing she’d said it out loud. She put her hands on her hips. “Well come on, we have a whole day together. Let’s try something new!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Cassidy, you realize the point of being snowed in is that you can’t go out and do anything, right?”
She rolled her eyes, sauntering over. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out the oranges and apples I’d bought for her the day before. Comfortable in my kitchen, she pulled out the juicer and began to squeeze.
When I’d woken up this morning, I didn’t need Lori’s message to confirm we’d been snowed in. The moment I opened the door and snow flooded the doormat, I realized we were stuck together for another day at least. The snow was so thick I wouldn’t even be able to chop wood for the day, forsaking me to deal with this edgy tension around the little snowflake.
I was tempted to pull out my laptop and utilize the day to work and check up on any issues the company was dealing with while I was gone. I had an efficient team, but it had become habit to fall back on being productive. And yet somehow, I was curious as to what great ideas Cassidy had.
“Just because we’re locked inside, it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” She raised an eyebrow as she continued twisting the orange over the juicer. It might’ve not been the type of fresh juice she was used to but at least I knew she was taking in some kind of nutrients. Her small appetite unnerved me.
“What did you have in mind, snowflake?” I said, placing my plate in the sink. There was something comical about her twisting around the juicer with maximum effort. “Here,” I offered. “You look like you’re struggling.”
She harrumphed but moved out of my way. “I’m not struggling, we just can’t all squish an orange with one hand until it turns into putty.”
I chuckled, and she stared at me as if I’d grown another head. “I’m not the Hulk.”
“Depends who you ask.” She smiled slyly.
The air electrified again; it was starting to grind on me how effective her words and attention were. This cabin was too fucking small and how had I ended up juicing this woman’s breakfast?
“Ideas for today?” I growled out.
“Right.” She clapped her hands together, all energized again. “We could play cards again, or watch movies, or bake…”
“Bake?” I asked.
She squealed, actually squealed as she jumped up and down excitedly. “Yea like I don’t know cookies or something. The only time I ever made cookies was with a friend and they were ‘special’ cookies. And in reality, I didn’t actually help with the cooking, but I was there for it.”
“So, you just got high?” I confirmed.
She shrugged. “Well yea of course but it looked like a lot of fun. And I might even have a bottle of champagne in my suitcase.” She raised a provocative eyebrow.
“You made me carry that second suitcase because it had a bottle of champagne in it? I’d hate to know what your essentials are in the third case we’d left behind.”
“Actually… there’s two bottles of champagne in there.” She beamed a playful smile and grabbed onto my arm enthusiastically. “But think about it. I know it’s like 10am or whatever.”
“It’s 8am,” I corrected.
She swatted me with her other hand, the manicured nails on her other one still digging into me excitedly.
“But if we put the juice in the champagne then it kind of like makes it a liquid breakfast, just with a little bit of fun sprinkle in it. You know, a mimosa.”
