Page 5 of Snowed Inn

I walk decidedly to the left—Sera’s side of the barn—making it painfully obvious that I am not here for a free drink from Ball Cap. Would it be too petty to shout that information across the space? Probably. I’ll settle for a cold nod in his general direction.

Not that I care if he notices.

Also, I definitely did not put my hair up in a messy bun or wear an effortlessly casual oversize black cashmere sweater because of Jesse.

I am on vacation. I can wear whatever I want.

By the time I reach the bakery counter, the air is thick with peppermint and chocolate. I am beyond ready for my brownie.

I would be completely enjoying this moment if not for the six-foot-two problem standing several feet away behind the bar. The tattooed, blond, and annoyingly hot problem. The same guy who was extremely rude to me when we first met, I remind myself before I think anymore about his stupid muscled arms.

I don’t know why he was so rude—El later told me something about him having a bad day, but I don’t care. I don’t tend to give second chances to people who are jerks.

And yet, there he is. Smiling at me. Like I forgot all about it. I pointedly turn my gaze toward the bakery.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Sera points out after we exchange greetings.

“Yeah. Been busy with work.” It’s a weak excuse, and we both know it. “I came here specifically for a brownie,” I add quickly. “El says they’re the best.”

“Aww. Ellie is sweet. She likes everything I make.”

“For good reason,” I reply. “If the brownies are anything like your apple cider donuts, I’m about to fall in love.”

A loud cough sounds from behind the bar. Jesse has turned slightly in our direction. He’s pretending to wash beer growlers but he’s clearly listening. It’s obvious. Nosy.

I continue to ignore him. Sera disappears into the back and returns with one of the biggest brownies I’ve ever seen. She presents it to me like she’s giving me an award. I gladly accept it with both hands. It’s warm, melty, and smells like chocolate heaven.

I’m about to take a giant bite when a thought occurs to me.

“This isn’t a pot brownie, is it?”

Sera slaps the counter, letting out a laugh.

“Of course not,” she says. “I don’t resort to cheap tricks. My brownies and hot chocolate are infused with real magic. Not THC.”

I’m tempted to ask what she means by real magic, but honestly? I don’t care. If this brownie is enchanted, I’ll gladly let it work its mojo on me. Maybe it can halt blizzards.

“Magic hot chocolate, eh?” I echo, mostly to be polite.

“Yeah, it’s love potion,” she informs me, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes.

“Reeeaaaallly?” I reply, half interested, because I’m mostly just salivating over the brownie I have propped up in front of my whole face.

Just as I take my first bite (which is perfection), I hear: “Hey, principessa, you up for that drink?”

I don’t turn. I don’t need to.

“No, thanks,” I call back, still focusing on my brownie.

Jesse’s called me principessa ever since he accused me of being a princess, and I corrected him with the Italian. Ass. He has no clue how wrong he is. But I’m not wasting my breath trying to explain anything to him. It’s none of his business anyway.

“I’m making chocolate peppermint martinis for the holidays,” Jesse calls in a singsong voice, and honestly, damn him, because there are few things I love more than a holiday-themed martini.

I glance at Sera, arching a brow.

“They’re actually good,” she confirms in a loud whisper. “He puts a chocolate-covered peppermint stick in them.”

Damn, again. Fine. I protectively cradle my brownie to my chest like it’s a real Birkin bag and turn.