Chapter 14 #2
“Most likely,” she agrees cheerfully. “But hey, where’s your holiday spirit?” She pushes open the double doors to the massive professional kitchen.
I grin. “I decked Santa, remember?”
She snorts, almost tripping as she walks. “What was your hashtag for that again?”
“#SantaSmackdown.”
She snaps her fingers. “No, no. Better. #KrisKringleKO.”
I pause, nodding like I’m impressed. “Good one.”
She bows low, like she’s on stage. “Thanks, I’ll be here all night.”
“Right, you are your own biggest fan.”
Her laugh bounces off the stainless steel as she wanders around inside the massive walk-in freezer.
A puff of frosty air billows out, and she shivers.
“Brr.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she disappears deeper inside.
A moment later she re-emerges triumphant, carrying two meat-lovers frozen pizzas and a bag of vegetables dangling from her wrist.
“Perfect,” I say, holding up my own find. “I scored a box of instant potatoes. Now this is what I call a well-balanced meal. Coach will be thrilled I’m eating right during my suspension.”
Jaylynn arches a brow and sets the pizzas down with a thump. “We’re making the best of it.” She glances at the box in my hands. “Instant potatoes are my absolute favorite.”
I squint at her. “Are you serious?”
She bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “No. Did you just meet me?”
“Kind of,” I tease, still smirking.
She rips open the pizza boxes. “You know this place prides itself on fresh, organic, farm-to-table everything. And now? Busted.” She waves the frozen pizza in the air. “Turns out they’ve been taking shortcuts.”
“Good thing too,” I point out, reaching for a pot. “Otherwise we’d starve.”
“Fair.” She chuckles and starts searching the cupboards until she finds the right cookware. She sets a baking tray and a couple of pots on the counter, metal clanging against metal.
I tear open the potato pouch, skim the back of the box, and set it aside. “Easy enough. Water, boil, stir, try not to burn the place down.”
“Comforting,” she deadpans.
I pour water into the pot and flick the stove knob.
A low hum fills the space as the burner glows red.
The two of us move around the big, empty kitchen in a rhythm that feels…
weirdly domestic. Like this isn’t going to be the first time we’re going to cook together, like maybe it could be the first of a hundred times.
And that thought alone heats me like a runaway puck.
“You actually look comfortable in a kitchen,” she says, pulling open the small refrigerator. The cool air spills out, frosting her cheeks pink.
I shrug, tearing open the pouch of potatoes. “I used to do a lot of the cooking growing up. Aunt Elaine said she couldn’t stand a useless man.” I smirk. “Yet, she married Earl.”
Jaylynn laughs, shaking her head as I give the pouch a shake before opening it. “Still,” I add, softer, “I’m glad she taught me. Someday maybe I can make you a real meal, with real potatoes.”
“Not much in there.” She closes the fridge, leans against it like she’s weighing her words. “If I get that job in Boston, I’m going to take you up on a real meal.”
My chest tightens. “Did you apply?”
Her hands go up in defeat. “Haven’t had a chance. I would’ve tonight, but…” She gestures around at the snowed-in country club, the storm raging outside. “Here we are. No service.”
“It’s not so bad, is it?” I ask, carefully.
The smile she gives me is small, genuine, and warm enough to thaw ice. “Not so bad, Penn.”
Just then, my pocket buzzes. “What the hell?” I dig out my phone, blinking at the screen like it’s a ghost. “It’s a text. From Jaxon.” I look around the kitchen like the walls are playing tricks. “I somehow got a signal in here.”
“What’s it say?” she asks.
I read aloud. “Hey, heard you were snowed in. Just checking on you.”
“Aww,” she murmurs, touched. “That’s so nice of him.”
Something warm stirs low in my chest. “Yeah. Good guy.” I thumb back a reply, letting him know we’re safe and raiding the kitchen like starving bandits.
I’m about to put the phone down when it pings again. This time it’s Rip Hart. “I hope you’re snowed in with a hottie who’ll keep you warm.” I chuckle, flashing the screen at Jaylynn. “Group chat.”
She grins wickedly. “So… are you going to tell them you’re with a hottie?”
“No,” I say immediately. Too fast. She cocks her head. I scramble. “I mean, you are a hottie. Absolutely gorgeous, really. I’d scream it from the rooftops. But if you get that job in Boston, I don’t want the guys circling like sharks.”
Her brow quirks. “Isn’t Rip married?”
“Yeah. But not everyone in that group is.”
Her smirk deepens. “Aww, is my little Radman jealous?”
“Fuck yeah,” I admit, catching her waist and tugging her against me. “You’re my fiancée, remember?” I tease, but the word feels… less like a joke than it should.
My phone pings again, and my blood runs cold. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?”
I hold the phone out, groaning. Jaxon’s latest gem to the group. Careful what you say, dude. The girl he’s snowed in with is his fiancée. My screen lights up like a pinball machine as the guys go wild.
“Shit,” I mutter. “If you do come back to Boston—”
“You know what?” Jaylynn cuts me off, her hands sliding up my chest as she rises onto her toes.
She kisses me, soft and certain, silencing everything—my doubts, the storm, even the buzzing phone.
“Tonight, we don’t exist in the real world.
Tonight, it’s just us. No jobs, no group chats, no gossip.
Just this. Our own little fairy tale.” Her eyes search mine.
“When are we ever going to get another chance to be this far away from everything?”
The words hit deep, and I glance around the dimly lit kitchen, the snow and wind outside battering the windows. She’s right. This is ours. “Yeah,” I whisper. “And no elf in sight.”
I flip my phone off and toss it on the counter, then pull her back into me and kiss her like the world won’t be there waiting in the morning.
The fridge dings behind us, yanking me back to reality, but even that feels like part of the spell we’re caught in—like this night is stitched together with magic and mishaps.
When I finally let her go, she lingers, eyes closed, holding on to the kiss like it’s a memory she can carry into the future. She exhales slowly as I nudge the fridge door shut, and then she straightens, practical again, flipping the oven on.
I get to work on the potatoes while she fills a pot to steam broccoli. The storm rattles against the windows, the whole world muffled and white, and for the first time in a long time, I feel steady. Like we’ve carved out something safe here, something that belongs to us.
“How’s this for making new Christmas memories?” I ask, half-teasing, half-serious.
Her lips curve into that soft, heart-punching smile. “It’s definitely going to be a good memory.”
I move closer, brushing her hair back from her face, letting my fingers linger just a beat too long. “And the best part?” I murmur, my forehead dipping toward hers.
“What’s that?” she whispers.
I smile. “We’ve only just gotten started…”