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"Because you're... you," I said, gesturing toward him. "You're this intense, hyper-focused surgeon who doesn’t appear to have interest in anything else. You keep people at a distance. I don’t know, you just don’t come across as a man that knows his way around the kitchen, is all."
His amused smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful gaze. He took in my words, seemingly considering them. But just when I thought I might have made him uncomfortable, his grin returned, full force. "You're right, I'm not your typical cook, or your typical man," he admitted. "But I can fend for myself. And Sadie, too. I’m sure she would enjoy a bite to eat."
As if on cue, Sadie lifted her head, her ears pricking up at the sound of her name. Tony reached into the fridge and pulled out a cooked chicken breast, waving it in front of her. She gave a quiet woof, her tail thumping against the floor, before settling back down.
"That's Sadie's way of saying thank you," I translated for him, smiling at the sight of my usually standoffish dog warming up to Tony.
"Consider it a truce," he chuckled, placing the chicken breast on the counter.
"Do you need any help?" I offered, feeling slightly useless as I watched him busy himself in the kitchen.
He shook his head, dismissing my offer with a wave of his hand. "You're a guest," he said, placing another skillet on the stove. "Unexpected, but still a guest. My mother raised me to treat guests with honor."
A warm, tender feeling welled up within me at his words. It was endearing, the way he mentioned his mother and his upbringing. I found myself being drawn in by his casual charm and surprisingly domestic skills.
Tony, the brilliant, distant doctor who hardly ever smiled, was proving to be so much more than what he presented at the hospital. Here, in his sanctuary, he was warm, hospitable, and... human. And for the first time since I'd known him, I found myself genuinely wanting to know more about him— the man behind the surgeon's mask.
As he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, I became more intrigued, envisioning a younger version of him in a completely different setting. "Where did you grow up?" I asked, breaking up the sound of steak sizzling and utensils clattering.
"Spain. Madrid, to be precise," he replied without missing a beat, and something akin to nostalgia flickered in his eyes. "My parents still live there."
"Spain?" The mention of such an exotic location had me raising my eyebrows. I knew he was of Spanish descent, but I hadn't realized he actually grew up there.
"Yeah," he chuckled, his gaze distant as if lost in memories. "They own a small winery outside of the city, it’s been in the family for generations. I spent a good chunk of my childhood picking grapes and watching my father make wine."
The way he spoke of his past, his home, was so different from the stoic doctor I was used to. There was a sweet softness to him that I had never seen before. It was nice.
He reached for a wine bottle on the rack, cradling it in his hands. The label was faded but still legible, signaling an older vintage. "I think we should enjoy some of this tonight," he suggested, his eyes meeting mine.
I found myself blushing at his implication. "Oh, that's not necessary. I don't want you to waste it on me. I'm not much of a wine drinker," I admitted, suddenly feeling quite bashful.
His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "There's nothing quite like a good red wine, especially when you're trapped in a cabin during a snowstorm... with a beautiful woman," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, flirtatious tone. "And besides, I have a whole case in the wine cellar."
I could feel my cheeks heating up at his words. "You're quite the flirt, aren't you, Dr. Montivais?"
With a wink, he uncorked the bottle and poured us each a glass. "Only when I have a good reason to be," he retorted, lifting his glass in a toast. "To an unexpected, but hopefully, pleasant evening." I raised my glass and nodded in return, taking a sip. The rich taste of the wine danced on my tongue, its exquisite flavor drawing a sigh from my lips. He watched me with a captivation that stirred both thrill and disquiet within me.
Heavy with implication and anticipation, his words hung in the air, echoing in the growing warmth of the cabin, a warmth not caused by the fire. There was no denying it any longer; the attraction between us was palpable and tantalizing, like the exquisite wine Tony had just poured. The situation had moved beyond surviving a snowstorm and became more about surviving the storm brewing between the two of us.
Tony presented me with a plate consisting of a perfectly cooked steak and roasted potatoes. The mouthwatering aroma made my stomach growl louder, to my embarrassment. But he just chuckled, his laughter a melodious sound that I was really starting to enjoy.
"Just as hungry as Sadie, aren't you?" he teased.
I laughed, shaking my head in mock indignation. "I am not that bad," I defended, trying to keep my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.
"Really? Could have fooled me," he replied with a mischievous wink.
He walked over to a cupboard, fetching a bowl and setting it aside before cubing the chicken breast he’d taken from the fridge. He filled the bowl for Sadie, setting it, along with a bowl of water, on the floor. Sadie, who was seemingly dozing off, sprang into action, her tail wagging fervently as she devoured her meal.
Tony returned to his seat, his eyes never leaving mine. He gestured toward my plate with a grin that was pure temptation. "Que aproveche, Jude," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
Caught off guard, I could only return his smile, my heart pounding in response. His warmth and attentiveness made me feel seen and valued in a way that was entirely new to me, and somewhat unnerving.
As my gaze wandered from the plate of food to Tony, a troubling thought crossed my mind. He was a distraction I didn't need, especially not when I was aiming for that promotion. A professional relationship was all that we should share. Any dalliance beyond that was not only risky but downright careless.
However, as the evening stretched on, the cozy cabin and the snowfall providing a picture-perfect backdrop, I realized my resistance to temptation was quickly dwindling. He represented an entirely different kind of trouble, and I was teetering on the edge of a decision that could change everything.
As I picked up my cutlery, returning his infectious smile, I knew that for better or worse, this was an evening that I would not forget. And as I glanced back at Tony, his chocolate-colored eyes reflecting the flickering firelight, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, some troubles were worth the risk.
