Page 40 of Snowed Inn

“Yep, he is,” Jesse continues. “And a good thing he can help. Because my other bartenders are still snowed in.”

Charlotte explained more this afternoon. The staff that is still working either live on the property, like Jesse, are staying here, like Miller, or live close enough to get a truck or snowmobile ride to the inn. It’s not ideal, especially with Ellie and Aiden being sick, but we’re all pitching in.

I let out a loud, long sigh. “Yeah, well. I’m sure this blizzard seems fun and cozy when you’re stuck out here by choice.”

The side of Jesse’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “You’re right. I do find it cozy.”

I sit up straighter, hand cupping my ear. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

His smile is slow and devastating. “I said, it’s cozy.”

“No. No. Just before that…” My breath catches. My fingers curl into the blanket savoring the anticipation of what he’s about to say.

Jesse’s gaze holds mine, steady and warm—no wink, just intention. “You’re right.”

“Oh wow.” I slump back, throwing an arm over my face in mock amazement. “You repeated it.”

Jesse’s laugh is warm, the kind that melts through me like hot butterscotch poured into a toddy. “If you think that’s shocking, I have another surprise for you,” he announces.

One of my eyes slowly opens and my head lolls toward him like I’m a dying Victorian heroine. “A surprise?”

“Yep. I got you a present.”

I rub my palm over my face, gathering what’s left of my processing power. “When did you have time to get me a present? You’ve been working all day and the roads are a mess.”

He bites his lip, and why does that look illegal? “Okay, so it’s a nontraditional present. More like an outing.”

My spine goes taut with the exact energy of this better not involve cardio. “An outing?”

Jesse’s done with his apple and now he’s up on a ladder with what I think is a screwdriver doing something to the heating vent. Normally, I would not care about such things, but in this particular case, his undershirt is riding up and I am getting a hella good look at his rock-hard abs. Like, who knew a brewery owner was that kind of cut? He needs to wear shirts less. I don’t care if it is winter.

“Would you like to go sledding with me in the morning?” he asks.

I jerk upright so fast my foot smacks the coffee table. “What?” He has just startled me from my jaw-dropped staring.

“Sledding.” He says it casually, like he’s inviting me to grab coffee, not throw myself down a hill at high speeds.

My head tilts. I look away from the abs and try to concentrate on what he’s just said. “Like . . . in the snow? With a sled?”

He hides a grin behind his shoulder. “That’s typically how it works.”

I stare at him, waiting for a punch line. “I don’t understand.”

He exhales like he’s dealing with a particularly dense lab partner. “What’s to understand? It snowed a lot. It’s perfect for sledding. There’s a hill on the back end of the property, and I’m planning to go.”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to go sledding with me,” I assure him.

“Why not? It’s more fun than going alone.”

My internal alarms start beeping in cute, festive holiday tones. This is suspicious. Jesse and I have spent time together recently, but mostly because we had to. But sledding? Sledding is an entirely optional activity. Why would he voluntarily want to spend time with me? Also, if sledding was an option, why didn’t anyone tell me? I could have been offering it to the guests this whole time. Or is that another insurance issue? Like the goat.

“I’m not one for sledding,” I announce, as if this settles the matter.

He turns to face me and arches a brow. “No kidding. That’s exactly why I’m asking you.”

My mouth pops open in pure offense. “Because you think I wouldn’t be good at it?”

“I think,” he says, his tone entirely too self-assured, “that you’ll have more fun than you’re willing to admit.”