Frosted with Love

Selina's POV

The morning air of Snowfall Valley bites at my skin, but I don't have time to notice the chill. I hurry to my car parked beside the bakery, trying not to slip on the icy sidewalk. Snow is falling heavily, blanketing the town in white. It should look magical, like something out of a holiday postcard. But for me, it doesn’t feel that way. Not this year.

Snowfall Valley was a postcard-perfect town tucked into a valley that seemed to hold its breath every winter. The streets are lined with charming shops, their windows glowing warmly with twinkling lights and festive displays. But as I stand beside my car, one hand resting on the door, a wave of isolation settles over me, like the cold is seeping into my bones, reminding me how alone I really am.

The holiday magic should feel like home, like it used to. But now, it’s just a reminder of the life I’ve lost, the joy I can’t seem to find again. Every snowflake that falls feels like another piece of my world drifting further away.

I’m late again. The familiar ache in my chest tightens as I pull open the car door. The bakery needs to open on time today. No mistakes. Not with Christmas just around the corner and the place finally starting to fill with customers after months of struggle.

I glance through the bakery windows, where the glow of soft, golden lights spills out, creating a cozy contrast to the cold world outside. The warmth inside feels like a gentle invitation, the kind that promises comfort and relief from the chill. I can almost smell the fresh bread and pastries, that rich, comforting scent of cinnamon and sugar, mixing with the familiar hum of the ovens. It’s the kind of warmth that makes the cold seem far away, even if just for a moment. I hesitate, knowing that once I step inside, the world outside will feel even colder. But for now, it feels like a haven, the kind of place that’s meant to be a little escape from everything else.

The bakery is my sanctuary. A place where I can lose myself in the comforting rhythm of kneading dough, the flour-dusted countertops, and the sweet scent of rising bread. It’s the only place where the weight of everything else feels a little lighter, even if just for a while.

I grab the last bag of flour from the back seat of my car. It’s heavier than I thought, and I struggle to carry it. As I step onto the sidewalk, I tug my coat tighter, my breath forming little clouds in the frosty air. The bakery is just a few steps away, and I can almost taste the warm scent of fresh bread. But the weight of my to-do list clouds my thoughts.

I’m already running late, but I push the frustration aside. There’s work to be done. Pastries to bake, orders to fill. I can’t screw this up.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t see him coming.

Suddenly, his shoulder knocks into mine, a rush of warmth that leaves me breathless. The flour bag slips from my hands, and in an instant, it bursts open, sending a cloud of white powder swirling around us. The flour settles like snow, dusting his dark hair and the sharp angles of his face, as if he’s crowned in frost. The thick, comforting scent of flour fills the air, mixing with the crisp chill around us. As the cloud of flour drifts down, our gazes lock, lingering a beat longer than necessary. His hand brushes mine as we both try to regain our balance, the brief touch leaving an unexpected warmth that spreads through me, sending a quiet pulse of electricity up my arm.

“Are you serious?” I shout, panic rising in my chest as I blink flour from my eyes.

I stare at the mess around me, still processing what just happened. Then I hear a chuckle. I look up to see a man standing in front of me, also covered in flour, brushing it off his jacket. He doesn’t seem angry, just amused.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” he says with a half-smile.

I try to shake off the shock, but I can’t help the irritation creeping in. “Great. Just what I needed today.”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Guess we’re both in the same boat now. Flour everywhere.”

Without thinking, he reaches out, his thumb brushing the flour smudged across my cheek. The warmth of his touch sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. “You’ve got... a little something right here,” he says, his voice soft.

I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the closeness, before forcing a smile. “Well, guess I’m not the only one covered in flour,” I tease, trying to shake off the sensation.

I sigh, looking at the mess all over me. “Well, guess I’ll be wearing flour as a new accessory.”

Sebastian chuckles, brushing some flour off his sleeve. “I think you’re starting a new trend. Very avant-garde.”

I raise an eyebrow, giving him a teasing look. “Says the guy who looks like he’s been dipped in a bag of flour.”

He smirks, leaning in slightly. “At least I match the winter theme. You’re a little off-season with that white.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile escapes. “Well, when you look as good as me, I can pull off anything.”

“I’ve got a meeting in an hour, and I don’t think this look will impress anyone.” He says, surveying his flour-covered jacket with a smirk.

I glance at him, feigning concern. “What, you don’t think ‘flour fashion’ will become the next big thing in corporate circles?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Somehow, I don’t think they are ready for this ‘baked goods’ aesthetic.”

“Well, they say you should always bring something to the table. Looks like you’ve got the whole bakery covered.” I chuckle.

“Well,” I glance at the bakery door, then back at him, “I can offer you a hot shower if you want to clean up a bit. Wait here.” I disappear into the back, then return with a crisp white shirt and a pair of slacks. “They’re from my ex,” I admit, a faint blush creeping up my cheeks. “They’re clean and you can use them if you’d like.”

He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on the clothes in my hands. “You must be a brave woman to offer a hot shower and clothes from your ex to someone you just met.” His smirk deepens. “But, I’m not one to turn down such hospitality.”

I give a dry laugh, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Well, it’s either that or you walk into your meeting looking like you’ve been rolling around in flour.”

“I’m pretty sure they'd notice,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I guess a quick shower wouldn’t hurt.”

I gesture toward the bakery. “Come inside. I’ll grab you a towel.”

Before I can say anything else, I hear a voice from down the street. A couple of town residents are walking by, already talking about us. I can’t make out the words, but I can see them glance our way with curious eyes. The last thing I need is for the entire town to start gossiping.

I shake my head. “It’s just flour. It’ll be fine.” I give him a wry smile. “But I’m sure they’ll think we’re some new couple.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Great. Just what I needed—small-town rumors.”

I laugh, but then something hits me. I look at him more closely. The casual tone, the expensive suit, the confidence. There’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit. I hesitate.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” I ask, suddenly unsure.

He nods, still grinning. “Actually, I’m here for the Winter Wonderland project. I’m Sebastian. Sebastian Frost.”

I freeze. The Winter Wonderland project. That’s the big thing in town this year. The event that’s supposed to bring in tourists, families, and everyone from the town. And now he’s involved? This just got more complicated.

“Selina,” I say, offering my hand. “I run the bakery here.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking my hand firmly. There’s something about his grip that’s reassuring, though I can’t quite place why.

“I didn’t expect to meet anyone quite like you this early in the morning,” I joke, trying to ease the tension. “But then again, I wasn’t expecting to spill flour all over myself.”

“I’ll admit, this wasn’t how I planned my morning either,” he says with a light laugh. “But I’m glad we got a chance to meet.”

I glance at the town residents again. Sure enough, they’re watching us, whispering. The last thing I need is for them to start spinning wild stories. But maybe I should let it go. A little gossip never hurt anyone, right?

“Well, I better get to cleaning up this mess,” I say, looking at the snow-covered sidewalk. “Before they start wondering if I’m baking a new kind of snow pastry.”

He laughs. “I’m sure it’d be a hit.”

I’m about to head inside when I notice something strange. The snow outside the bakery is still, the flakes falling gently. But there’s something odd about the footprints leading up to the door. They’re erratic, almost like someone had been pacing outside.

I frown, but shake my head. It’s probably nothing.

I step inside, feeling the warmth of the bakery envelope me. But even as I start to get the ovens prepped, the strange feeling lingers. As if someone’s still watching.

“Everything okay?” Sebastian asks, noticing the sudden shift in my mood.

“Yeah, just strange morning,” I mutter, pushing the feeling aside.

I reach for the flour, but something outside the window catches my eye. My stomach tightens, a knot forming as I see fresh footprints in the snow, leading away from the bakery. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. My heart starts to race as I lean closer, squinting into the thickening snowstorm. The footprints are clear, but there’s no sign of anyone around. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the unsettling feeling of being watched settling over me.

I quickly pull the curtain closed. Am I just imagining this? Or is there really something off today?

“Selina?” Sebastian’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You okay?”

I give a weak smile. “Yeah. Just feeling a little off, I guess.”

As the snow continued to fall, the flakes danced in the air, but it was the weight of the moment that kept me rooted. Something about meeting Sebastian Frost today felt like more than chance, like the universe had orchestrated it. His gaze had lingered a little too long, as if he too sensed the shift in the air between us. I couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or something deeper, but I couldn’t deny the spark that was there, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.