I wasn’t so sure. My mind had always been sharper in the morning—at least when I got enough sleep. But when the food arrived, I forgot to be grumpy.
The plate in front of me held seared duck breast with what I thought was a cherry gastrique, roasted root vegetables that had been caramelized to perfection, anddelicate fondant potatoes that looked almost too perfect to eat.
“Wow,” I said, staring down at it.
Pam grinned. “Asher’s been experimenting with the staff meals. Guests get the traditional menu, but we get to be his very willing guinea pigs.”
I took a bite. The duck was perfectly cooked—crispy skin, tender meat, the cherry sauce adding just the right amount of sweetness to cut through the richness.
It was brilliant. Unfairly brilliant. “This is incredible,” I admitted.
Dennis nodded from across the table. “The kid’s got talent, I’ll give him that.”
I glanced toward the kitchen, where I could just see Asher beyond the pass, moving between stations, his white coat streaked with stains, his expression focused.
“Shame he’s so...” I trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Handsome?” Pam offered.
“I was going to say intense,” I said hastily, my cheeks reddening. Actually, I’d been tempted to call him something much worse than that before my professionalism kicked in.
Pam laughed. “Let’s split the difference and call him intensely handsome.”
I nodded, wanting the conversation to end. So I let myself enjoy the flavors without thinking about howsomeone so talented could also be such a jerk. Without thinking about Asher at all.
Mostly.
After dinner,I wandered toward the bar, not quite ready to go back to the hideaway. It was on the far side of the restaurant and had been empty when I came in. But now there were a few men in the barstools and behind the bar—I stopped short in surprise.
Why were there two ski instructors tending bar?
The one that I assumed was Kai was in the middle of shaking a cocktail, his movements showy and precise, while an older gentleman in a suit watched with amusement. Landon stood at the other end, pouring a neat whiskey for another guest, his demeanor calm and efficient.
I approached slowly. “What are you doing here?”
Kai looked up and flashed me a grin. “Bartending. What’s it look like?”
“You work here?”
“Not officially.” He set down the shaker and poured the drink into a glass, sliding it across to the guest. “We just do this for fun. Not much else to do in the evenings.”
Landon was still at the far end of the bar, but when he saw me, he gave a small wave.
“Want something?” Kai asked. His grin made it impossible to be mad at him. Sure, I was still irritated about what had happened in the gym, but I had bigger problems. Like the fact that both the head chef and my manager hated me. Which didn’t exactly bode well for a problem-free internship.
I hesitated, then slid onto one of the barstools. “Sure.”
Kai’s grin widened. “Let me make you something special. The Zoe Special.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Only if you want it to be.” He was already pulling out bottles, moving with the same easy confidence he had on the slopes. “Trust me.”
A retort sprang to my lips, but then I held it back. Trusting him, at least during the ski lesson, hadn’t led to any harm, or falling off a cliff, like I’d originally feared.
A few minutes later, he set a glass in front of me. It was layered—pale pink at the bottom, fading to white at the top, with a sprig of mint and a twist of lemon on the rim.
“It’s a mocktail,” he said. “You seem like the mocktail type. Grapefruit, ginger, a little honey. Nothing too sweet.”
