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“Well, it’s your lucky day,” Jack says with a smile.
After he’s paid, the cashier hands him a small paper cone filled to the brim with shelled roasted chestnuts. My mouth waters at the mere sight of them. Eager to taste one, I reach out to grab a chestnut but frown when Jack pulls the bag out of reach.
“Hey,” I complain. “What are you doing?”
“Close your eyes.” He takes a chestnut out of the paper cone and blows on it.
My eyes widen when I realize his intention. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
“Why should I do what you ask when you never listen to me?” I quip.
Considering he’s been a constant thorn in my side for the past three years, I can’t resist giving him a hard time. It’s the least he deserves.
“You’ll like this, I promise,” he assures me.
I give him a wary glance. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know you better than you think I do,” he answers honestly. “Now, close your eyes… please,” he says, his tone softening at the end.
I nervously bite on my lip as I consider what he’s asking. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about obeying his request. Until a few days ago, he hasn’t shown any interest in me. Yet his pleading expression has my resolve crumbling, and I’m taken back to our moment on the ice yesterday.
He was genuinely concerned when he thought I was hurt. I can still feel his hand cupping my cheek and the warmth of his lips brushing against mine. His moment of gentleness proved that beneath his gruff exterior, there’s a thoughtful and considerate person, and I’ll regret it if I don’t give him a chance to show that side of himself.
“Fine.” I hesitantly shut my eyes.
“Good girl. Now, take a deep breath for me.”
My stomach flutters at him calling me a good girl. I shouldn’t like how that sounds but I do.
“Now, take a deep breath and concentrate on the aromas in the air,” he instructs.
I furrow my brows in confusion but don’t argue. I inhale deeply and I’m instantly greeted with the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a hint of smokiness. Combined, the smells bring back memories of baking with my mom as a kid and being cozied up by the fireplace with a cup of her homemade hot chocolate.
I part my lips when Jack presses the roasted chestnut to my mouth. I take a bite, chewing slowly, savoring the blend of nutty undertones and the subtle sweetness dancing on my tongue.
“What do you think?”
“It’s delicious. You have to try one.” I open my eyes to find him staring at me intently.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I smack his hand away when he tries to grab another chestnut.
“Ow. What was that for?” He shakes out his hand in mock dramatics.
“You fed me, so it’s only fair that I return the favor, don’t you think?”
“If you insist,” he says with a wicked grin.
I pluck a chestnut from the paper cone and hold it to his lips.
What the hell am I doing? This is not appropriate boss-employeebehavior.
Like he can sense I’m about to retreat, Jack grabs my wrist to keep me in place. His liquid-amber gaze is trained on my lips as he guides my hand to his mouth. He eats the whole chestnut, leaning in to lick the lingering cinnamon sugar off my fingertips.
“You’re right; it’s absolutely delicious.”
