Zuri had no trouble believing him. Cookies baked and decorated with this kind of perfection came from the most high-end bakeries. Had he actually ordered these and had them brought in from the city?
“Next, we have a little something to wash those down.” Kyree handed her a white, insulated travel cup, nestled another one within the folds of the blanket across his lap, and opened a matching white thermos.
Zuri groaned as the heavily scented steam wafted up her nostrils. Hot chocolate!
“Now, I know you said you like your hot chocolate Italian style,” he said, taking her mug, and carefully pouring the thick liquid into it, expertly adjusting the angle and speed of his pour as the sleigh gently rocked. “So, I asked the chef if he could whip some up to go with his cookies.” He cautiously handed the hot chocolate to her.
The chef? Zuri thought, as he poured a mug for himself.
“Apparently, Chef Stanley first trained in Turin, and knew exactly how to do it right, or, at least I hope so… Taste it,” he coaxed, with a boyish grin.
Warmth bloomed in Zuri’s chest as she held the rim to her nose, breathing in the rich, chocolatey scent, before taking her first sip. Her eyes fluttered closed… Rich. Velvety. Absolutely perfect. This man had listened. He’d actually listened and done this for her––brought her heaven in a mug.
“Oh. My. God! Not a word of a lie, I think this might be the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life!” She sipped again, letting it warm her from the inside out.
Watching her with a satisfied smirk, Kyree took his first sip, then instantly drew his head back, his eyes wide with delight. “Damn! That is good!”
“Right?”
“Okay, Ms. Zuri, I see where you’re coming from.”
“Told you.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. “There was this amazing little Italian café in Zermatt that my brother and I loved. We had one of their hot chocolates every day before our first run.” Zuri took another indulgent sip. “Mm, I swear I feel like I’m there right now.” She closed her eyes and imagined walking the cobblestone streets of Switzerland with Kyree, of snuggling with him in front of a fireplace, of making love…
Her eyes fluttered open to find Kyree enjoying his chocolate as he watched the dark forest whiz by. “What about the third surprise?” she asked, trying to focus her mind on the present, and not on a fantastical, hypothetical future.
His mouth twisted playfully. “I don’t know now. It might ruin it…”
“Come on, you can’t do that to me.”
Kyree hesitated, as if still deciding, then shrugged on a grin and pulled a silver flask from his inside coat pocket. “Peppermint Schnapps.”
Zuri pressed her hand to her chest, a happy, bubbling laugh escaping her. “Oo, look at this full bottle service!” she teased, presenting her mug. “Come on, pour it in.”
Kyree laughed. “You sure? It won’t ruin the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had?”
“Peppermint in chocolate? Of course not! Come on now, Bartender, don’t be stingy.”
With a triumphant twinkle in his eyes, Kyree poured a splash of schnapps into her cup and then his. After capping the flask and returning it to his coat pocket, he reached back into the backpack, retrieved two lids, and securely screwed them onto their mugs.
“Mm, mm, mm, Kyree,” Zuri said, her fingers hovering over the cookie tin. “A Bentley, the Rose Suite, a private chef who trained in Italy. What’s next? Are you going to whisk me away on your private jet?” She selected a gingersnap with grated orange peel. “Or no, I guess it would be your private yacht, given your negative experience with flying.” She winked as she bit into the cookie.
The shift in Kyree was subtle but unmistakable. His body tensed, the easy warmth in his eyes dimming.
A pang shot through her chest. “Kyree, did I say something wrong? I was just joking, you know.”
“I know, but…” His chest rose and fell on a deep breath as he reached for a soft, round thumbprint cookie with raspberry preserves. “I just need to come clean with you, Zuri.”
Come clean? They’d only known each other for three days, and he already has to confess something? She swallowed hard as panic began to rise in her belly.
“The Bentley isn’t mine, Zuri,” he said, his voice steady and strong. “It belongs to my cousin.”
“Okaaay…” She closed the tin and set it on the seat beside her.
“And I didn’t pay for the suite either––I couldn’t afford an hourly rate in that room.”
What? Is he some kind of con man? “Kyree, what exactly are you saying?”
Kyree sighed. “I’m saying the car, the hotel, the private chef––none of that is mine. I don’t come from that world… Your world.”
