“Exactly.” Natalie nods. “We had good conversation, but I didn’t feel anything.”
Mila waggles her eyebrows. “Did you want to feel something?”
Natalie groans. “Not everything is about that, Mila.”
“Oh, but it is,” Mila teases. “If you had a real spark with him, you wouldn’t be thinking about feeling something with a certain hockey player right now.”
Shaking her head, Natalie lets out a reluctant chuckle, some of the nervous tension easing from her shoulders. Mila is right about one thing—Jake will be there. He texted her last week and asked if it was okay. That was considerate of him. And despite all her efforts to ignore the way he makes her heart pound, she knows that seeing him again, in the warmth of a holiday gathering, surrounded by laughter and flickering candlelight, will make it even harder to pretend she doesn’t care.
CHAPTER 16
JAKE
Jake squints down at his own messy handwriting for what feels like the hundredth time:Knead dough gently until smooth and pliable. Be careful not to overwork.
What the hell does that even mean? Overwork? Run it through bag skate drills until it cries?
He sighs in frustration. He’s been at the kitchen counter for over an hour, flour dusting the air like a fine mist as he puzzles over notes written in broken English.
He stares at the ingredients scattered across the counter. He has no idea where to start. The recipe had sounded deceptively simple when he copied it down, but now that he is here, it feels like an overwhelming puzzle with pieces that don’t fit. His hands are sticky with dough, and his mind is blank as he tries to remember what she told him. The pot on the stove hisses in warning, and he grabs it, turning off the heat.
He scrubs his face with his hands.
Mac, you’re in over your head.
It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and Jake is looking forward to a couple days off. His body needs a break, and sleeping in his own bed for more than a few nights in a row sounds heavenly. Lately his kneesache, his back is stiff, and his hands—scarred and swollen from years of fights and blocked shots—throb before he even gets out of bed. A hot shower helps, but only for a little while. He used to recover fast, bouncing back from games like nothing, but now? Now the bruises linger, the soreness seeps deeper, and the exhaustion never fully fades. He knows his body is wearing down.
Jake’s parents are visiting his sister in California over the holidays, leaving him to fend for himself. Not that he minds. His sister Charlotte and her husband just had twins and need the support. He’ll FaceTime with them tomorrow, and hopefully get the chance to see his nieces. He airmailed them mini-sticks and teeny tiny hockey jerseys a couple weeks ago, with a promise that Uncle Jake would give them skating lessons once they were old enough.
Surveying the disaster that was his kitchen, he makes up his mind and steels himself, grabbing his phone. This calls for reinforcements. It rings for a long time, and Jake is about to hang up when he hears laughter on the other end.
“Mac! Did you call the wrong number? This is my sister’s phone,” Jesse crows from the other end.
Busted.
“Uh, hey bud. Yeah, I wanted to talk to Natalie. I have, uh, a cooking emergency,” Jake says.
“She’s in the shower.”
Jake raises his eyes skyward, wishing the floor would open beneath him and swallow him whole.
“Right-o. I’ll leave you to it then,” he says quickly.
“Why do you have her number anyway?” Jesse asks. “Are you two conspiring against me?”
“Something like that.”
“Well she can’t come to the phone, but I’ll send her over once she’s out.”
“No, no,” Jake says. “No need for her to come over. I’m sure she’s busy. I just wanted some advice.”
“No biggie. She loves to cook,” Jesse says. “And we’re not busy, we’re drinking and playing board games.”
“Getting trounced at board games is more like it!” a cheery, female voice chirps in the background.
“No really, just get her to call me back—” Jake starts, but Jesse has already hung up. Jake scrubs his hands on his face, depositing little flecks of flour on his stubbled chin. His stomach bubbles with apprehension. Well shit.
“Okay, the filling is done and cooling. So now… we mix the dough, right? That sounds easy enough.” Jake scoops the mashed potato, onion, and cheddar cheese mixture into a large bowl.
