Page 8 of Snowed Inn

ME: promise.

I slide my phone back into my bag. Then I carefully make my way to the bathroom, one step at a time, while definitely not remembering the feel of Ball Cap’s hands on my arms.

Okay. I’m back from the bathroom. Face splash accomplished. There may even have been a short pep talk. A little more disappointing social scrolling . . . and a nope on replying to yet another idiotic text from Monica Moss.

A few more guests from the inn have braved the weather to arrive at the bar. They all have drinks in front of them. El was right, hospitality doesn’t close down just because of a little thing like a blizzard. Clearly, the inn’s guests want their baked goods and their alcohol come rain or snow.

But I’ve decided that first martini was my last. I’m already a little emotional today. I don’t need to get drunk. That could quickly turn into a disaster.

“So what are you doing out here?”

I slide back into my seat to see Jesse leaning against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes flicker with curiosity, and I can’t quite tell if he’s actually interested in my answer or just looking for something to tease me about. I am suspicious.

Maybe because I’m feeling a little sorry for myself, I go with the truth. I exhale slowly. “The blizzard is keeping me from going home to LA.”

He whistles. “Bummer.”

I nod. “Yep. El invited me to come out here for Christmas, but I’ve been hoping the weather will die down and I can still hop a flight.” I gesture to the window. “Obviously, that’s not happening anytime soon, though.”

“Who’s in LA?” he asks next.

“My whole family,” I tell him. “Parents, grandma. Brother . . . sisters. And four nieces.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Four nieces!”

“Yep. My sisters had two daughters each.”

“So, no boyfriend?” Jesse asks next, super casually. He’s scratching the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?” I’m not entirely sure how we went from the blizzard to a boyfriend in 0.2 seconds.

Jesse shrugs. “I figured you must not have one or he’d be with you now.”

I straighten my shoulders. “Yes, I am alone on Christmas. Thanks for pointing that out.” I give him a tight smile.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine,” I breathe. “I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment,” I admit. “And I’m not in the market.” I don’t know why I added the last part. Maybe it was to make it clear that I’m not interested in him.

“Taking a break?” he asks.

A wry smile pops to my lips. “Something like that. I have a knack for picking highly successful jerks. I need to examine my taste in men before I accidentally marry one with a secret second family.”

“Ah,” he intones cryptically, wiping down the countertop. Then he adds, “Could be the pond you’re fishing in. You ever think about leaving the city?”

Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that. I let out a sharp laugh. “What? And move out here? To the land of goats and apple cider?” I shake my head. “I love El, but I’m not a small-town girl. I’m a skyscraper and traffic-jams girl. A twenty-four-hour takeout and boutique-shopping girl.”

“Noted,” Jesse says, nodding.

“What about you? No girlfriend?” Damn. I already wish I hadn’t said that. I’m blaming it on the martini. Because I definitely don’t care if Butler’s got a girlfriend. I mean . . . why would I?

A slow, knowing smile creeps across his face, like he’s enjoying this a little too much. My regret intensifies.

“Nope. No girlfriend.”

I eye him carefully. “You taking a break too?”

He shrugs. “Guess you could say that.”