Jett has his back turned to me, flipping pancakes in a frying pan. It sizzles as he drops it, and it lands in the butter. Another surge of saliva floods my mouth watching him cook.
He’s dressed already, though casually in a different pair of grey sweatpants, and a fitted black quarter zip fleece. His dark brown hair is mussed from sleep, and when he turns to face me and slide the finished pancake onto a plate sitting on the kitchen island, his eyes still look sleepy, too.
“Morning, babe,” he greets me, his mouth sliding upward into a flirtatious, slanted smile.
“Babe? Are we doing pet names already?”
“Figured we should test a few out and practice so it sounds natural,” he explains. His gaze doesn’t break from mine until he turns and scoops more batter into the pan. “What do you think?”
He can’t see my expression, but I’m sure he can hear theickin my tone.
“It’s not my favourite.” I climb onto a barstool at the counter.
Cordelia is curled up at Jett’s feet, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by her today.
“We’ll keep trying. What about baby?”
“Yeah, that one’s a hard no,” I say with a laugh.
“Then I guess for now I’ll just keep calling you wife.” He winks as he rounds the large island and slides a plate of pancakes towards me. “Hope you’re hungry, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
“A big day doing what?” I ask.
The last thing I need is anotherbig day.
We just got married, and I fully planned to chill on the couch and see no one except Jett and Cordelia. And Jett’snever struck me as the type of guy to make plans; he’s always been more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy.
“We’re going skiing.”
Oh god.
I was hoping he’d forgotten about that conversation. I’m a lot of things—put me behind an espresso bar and I’ll make a mean cappuccino, hand me some wool and knitting needles and I’ll make an entire wardrobe—but an athlete is not one of them.
I barely made it through two rounds of bowling without my hands feeling like they were going to fall off. Jett had to step in and make accommodations for me then; I don’t want to hold him back on the ski hill.
“Oh, I should be getting back to the café today. I’ve never actually left Ethan and Jaime alone for this long before…” I say. Sure, maybe I’m using it as an excuse rather than admitting why I don’t want to go with him.
I’m not convinced that his skillset as a professional skier will make him even a half decent teacher. He may be the best skier in the world, but that doesn’t translate to teaching someone else. Not with the level of arrogance Jett brings to the slopes. But worse, I’m even less confident in my ability to coordinate myself enough to not go careening into a snowbank.
“They did tell you they wanted you to have some time off after the wedding,” Jett points out. “But why don’t you call and check in if you’re worried.”
I consider his suggestion while I’m chewing on a bite of pancake. I eye him before conceding and picking up my phone to call Ethan. He answers on the second ring, which must mean the café isn’t terribly busy, and I chewmy fingernail as I think of some way to get a message across to him while Jett is staring at me.
“Hey Pops,” Ethan answers. He sounds confused, if not concerned, as to why I’m calling the day after my wedding. “Everything okay?”
“I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s running smoothly,” I squeak out, my voice a higher octave than normal. “I know the cash register sometimes gives you grief.”
I’m crossing my fingers underneath the counter, hoping that Ethan will hear the desperate plea in my voice and pick up what I’m putting down—that I need him to give me an out.
“All good here. Jaime and I are managing just fine,” Ethan says, no hint of a lie in his tone.
Dammit.
“And the register and I have agreed to a truce for now. I haven’t run into any issues.”
“Are you sure? I can come back.” I use a tone that sounds like a verbalwink wink, nudge nudge.
Jett shakes his head with a shrewd smile from across the kitchen.
