Chapter 23
POPPY
My eyes open, although I don’t remember them closing, sometime in the morning as bright rays of sun shimmer through the snow-covered trees outside.
It takes me a couple seconds to remember where I am, but the thick, pillowy soft duvet reminds me that I’m in Jett’s guest room, and everything that’s happened over the last few days comes back to me in one fell swoop once the haze of sleep clears.
Our wedding day replays in my mind. And although I know it was all for show, I’m still caught up in the magic of the day, the post-wedding bliss. Then, images from last night come crashing back.
It was more than anything Jett and I have ever shared. Underneath the physical sensations of kissing him, of him pinning me against the wall just outside of this room, there was a passion there, a desperation to have each other, to claim each other.
There wasn’t anything pretend about it, and thinking about it sends threads of electricity unfurling into each of my limbs.
Before I can spend too long thinking about this new turn of events, the smell of something syrupy and sweet drifts under the door and my mouth waters.
I throw the covers off, and dig around in my overnight bag to find something half decent to wear to greet Jett this morning. The best I’ve got is a clean pair of leggings and another hand-knit sweater, and I decide it’ll have to do.
It’s not like I had much notice to go and revamp my wardrobe before agreeing to marry a professional athlete.
I clearly didn’t think this marriage scheme through from all angles before accepting Jett’s “proposal.” And now the whole thing has taken on a life of its own, it’s a runaway train. I’ve never even had a boyfriend before and the man in the kitchen cooking me breakfast is my husband.
I pull my sweater on over my head and wander into the ensuite to run a brush through my hair, unsuccessfully trying to smooth down the cowlick sticking up on my crown.
If there’s nothing more I can do for my appearance, I can at least head out there with tolerable breath, so I quickly brush my teeth and put some deodorant on.
Good enough.
I gingerly open my bedroom door and wander down the hall in the direction of the mouth-watering smell.
I still haven’t gotten over the sheer size of this house, though I should try to get used to it.
From the day we sign the marriage certificate to the day we file for our inevitable divorce; all of this is half mine.
As I round the corner into the expansive kitchen, I learn the source of the smell.
Jett has his back turned to me, flipping pancakes in a frying pan. It sizzles as he drops it, and it lands in the butter. Another surge of saliva floods my mouth watching him cook.
He’s dressed already, though casually in a different pair of grey sweatpants, and a fitted black quarter zip fleece. His dark brown hair is mussed from sleep, and when he turns to face me and slide the finished pancake onto a plate sitting on the kitchen island, his eyes still look sleepy, too.
“Morning, babe,” he greets me, his mouth sliding upward into a flirtatious, slanted smile.
“Babe? Are we doing pet names already?”
“Figured we should test a few out and practice so it sounds natural,” he explains. His gaze doesn’t break from mine until he turns and scoops more batter into the pan. “What do you think?”
He can’t see my expression, but I’m sure he can hear the ick in my tone.
“It’s not my favourite.” I climb onto a barstool at the counter.
Cordelia is curled up at Jett’s feet, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by her today.
“We’ll keep trying. What about baby?”
“Yeah, that one’s a hard no,” I say with a laugh.
“Then I guess for now I’ll just keep calling you wife.” He winks as he rounds the large island and slides a plate of pancakes towards me. “Hope you’re hungry, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
“A big day doing what?” I ask.
The last thing I need is another big day.
We just got married, and I fully planned to chill on the couch and see no one except Jett and Cordelia. And Jett’s never struck me as the type of guy to make plans; he’s always been more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy.
“We’re going skiing.”
Oh god.
I was hoping he’d forgotten about that conversation. I’m a lot of things—put me behind an espresso bar and I’ll make a mean cappuccino, hand me some wool and knitting needles and I’ll make an entire wardrobe—but an athlete is not one of them.
I barely made it through two rounds of bowling without my hands feeling like they were going to fall off. Jett had to step in and make accommodations for me then; I don’t want to hold him back on the ski hill.
“Oh, I should be getting back to the café today. I’ve never actually left Ethan and Jaime alone for this long before…” I say. Sure, maybe I’m using it as an excuse rather than admitting why I don’t want to go with him.
I’m not convinced that his skillset as a professional skier will make him even a half decent teacher.
He may be the best skier in the world, but that doesn’t translate to teaching someone else.
Not with the level of arrogance Jett brings to the slopes.
But worse, I’m even less confident in my ability to coordinate myself enough to not go careening into a snowbank.
“They did tell you they wanted you to have some time off after the wedding,” Jett points out. “But why don’t you call and check in if you’re worried.”
I consider his suggestion while I’m chewing on a bite of pancake.
I eye him before conceding and picking up my phone to call Ethan.
He answers on the second ring, which must mean the café isn’t terribly busy, and I chew my fingernail as I think of some way to get a message across to him while Jett is staring at me.
“Hey Pops,” Ethan answers. He sounds confused, if not concerned, as to why I’m calling the day after my wedding. “Everything okay?”
“I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s running smoothly,” I squeak out, my voice a higher octave than normal. “I know the cash register sometimes gives you grief.”
I’m crossing my fingers underneath the counter, hoping that Ethan will hear the desperate plea in my voice and pick up what I’m putting down—that I need him to give me an out.
“All good here. Jaime and I are managing just fine,” Ethan says, no hint of a lie in his tone.
Dammit.
“And the register and I have agreed to a truce for now. I haven’t run into any issues.”
“Are you sure? I can come back.” I use a tone that sounds like a verbal wink wink, nudge nudge.
Jett shakes his head with a shrewd smile from across the kitchen.
“Nah! Enjoy your time as newlyweds!”
I hang up with Ethan, discouraged, but also determined to come up with something else that might get me out of skiing today.
“Before you say anything,” I interrupt Jett as he opens his mouth. “I’d also like to point out that I don’t have any equipment.”
But it seems like he has an answer for all my protests as he gestures over to the living room.
There’s a pile of ski gear on the couch. From here, I can see skis and poles, boots, what looks like a parka, a helmet and goggles… It all has the Nuclear logo on it.
“Gotcha covered,” he answers with his smug grin. “I had Dan bring some equipment by this morning.”
Ugh. There’s no way out.
“Why are you making me do this?” I whine.
Jett rounds the kitchen island and comes to stand in front of me where I’m sitting on the barstool. He’s close enough now that he’s standing between my knees, and his legs brushing against the inside of my thighs sends a surge of warmth through my core.
“If you really don’t want to do this, Poppy, we don’t have to.” He leans one hand on the counter next to us, caging me in. “But I think we’ll have fun together.”
His voice is dripping with innuendo, and I squirm in my seat. The tension between us is still there from last night, sparking and crackling like a live wire.
“I just… I don’t know if I can,” I say, my gaze dropping to my lap.
Jett hooks his index finger and uses it to lift my chin, so I’m peering into the chocolate pools of his eyes.
“You can. I promise you, you can. I just need you to trust me.” His voice is gentle, but firm. “If anything happens, I’ll carry you all the way down the mountain if I have to. The second you start to struggle, I’ll be there. Just like at bowling, just like at the wedding. We’re a team now.”
I squint back at him skeptically, but the sincerity in his eyes makes me feel like I would follow him anywhere. He could take me a hundred miles outside of my comfort zone and somehow make me feel safe.
“I have no idea where to even start…”
“I know.” Jett’s mouth slides into his signature flirtatious smile. “There’s all kinds of things I can teach you.”
I can’t help the flush that heats my cheeks at the suggestive lilt in his voice, the sparkle in his eye as he emphasized the word things. I suddenly want him to define his meaning of the word in very specific terms.
But before I can ask him to clarify, he’s backed away from me and is going to get himself a plate of pancakes. When he comes back, he takes the stool next to mine.
“Promise you won’t send me hurtling down a mountain at breakneck speed.” I take a bite of my own pancakes.
“That’s kind of the point. I’m going to teach you how to not fly down the mountain at breakneck speed,” he chuckles, like it’s going to be easy.
We chew in a companionable silence for a moment.
“No crazy hard runs,” I add.
“Sure, only black diamonds then,” Jett says, and although I’m not looking at him, I can tell by his voice that he has a cheeky smirk on his face.
“I obviously know those are the hard ones,” I chide, breaking off a piece of my pancake and throwing it at him. It hits his shoulder and lands on the floor.
Cordelia is there to quickly snap it up.
“See? You already know more than you think you do.” He winks, leaning over to nudge my arm, and electricity zips through me at the contact.
The crackle of the live wire.