“Are you hitting on me?” I ask when the intensity of his single-minded focus on me gets a little too much.
He considers that for a moment, his lips curving into a one-sided wolfish smile which tells me he’s about to brush this off in a joking manner. “I am. Is that a problem?”
My heart skips a beat at his directness. I stave off an equally sly smile as I ride out a series of electrifying thrills. Should it be a problem? I’m not really sure. My encounters with interested parties don’t usually go this way. We chat on some app, then meet up for a quick fuck and go our separate ways. Foreplay like this is never in the picture.
That being said, I can’t deny that I like it. Jake is such an interesting person, so unpredictable. He keeps surprising me at every turn and that only makes me want to unravel him more. To get to know him. I lick my lips, loving the way his attention wavers from my eyes to my mouth. He’s also an amazing kisser. I can’t stop thinking about it. I tried, but it’s impossible. I want to do it again.
“Well?” he prompts when I don’t reply, raising one eyebrow as his lips purse slightly.
I hum and take a sip from my hot chocolate. It’s rich and intense, just like the taste Jake had.Spices and cream. “There is only one way to find out.”
His gaze darkens, pulling me deeper. It’s hard to look away, but I force myself to, because otherwise I might do something stupid like lean over the table and have my way with his mouth. Not that he looks like he’d mind, but I’m not a big fan of public displays.
In electrified silence, we finish our drinks. I am overly conscious of him, of my own movements and the slightly shallower rate of my breathing. I wonder if he can notice how worked up I am, if he too is just as affected.
“There’s one more place I’d like to show you,” he says suddenly, gazing out the window at the snowy street.
“Okay…” When he doesn’t follow up, I add, “What place?”
His lips flirt with a smile. “You’ll see.”
A buzz of excitement spreads through me as I nod and follow him out of the café. The snow has picked up a bit, but the forecast says it won’t get much worse than this for today. At least there’s that, or otherwise I’d have been stuck in the hotel all day. While I might not be the biggest fan of the cold, I needed a change of scenery.
We stop in front of a store with fairy lights and garlands decorating the window. A bell chimes when we enter. It’s pleasantly warm inside and smells like coffee and wool. Racks of coats, jackets, hats, scarves and boots litter the interior in haphazard lines, giving the space a cozy vibe. A man with rosy cheeks and a full beard appears from a backroom behind the wooden counter and welcomes us with a smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Jake! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He nods at me, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. “Don’t tell me you ripped another jacket!”
Jake laughs. It’s an easy sound that warms me on the inside even more than the actual heat from the shop’s fireplace. “I didn’t, I didn’t!” He waves the man off. “I’m here because this one”—he hooks a finger at me—“needs a pair of warm gloves.”
I blink, processing, and hold up my hands to inspect them. Now that he brought my attention to them, they are a little numb. My fingertips are red and I can feel the bite of the cold.
“Wool, leather?”
Crossing his arms, Jake gives me a once-over and grins. “He’s the leather-type, I’d say.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I get why it might seem that way, but I am perfectly fine with wool. And, on a side note, I need a coat or a jacket more than gloves. But as Jake begins discussing padding and cuts with the shop owner, I snuggle into the parka I’ve borrowed and reevaluate that thought. It smells like Jake and it’s very comfy. I wouldn’t mind wearing this for the entireduration of my stay here. In fact, part of me really likes that idea. So, if Jake had the same thought and that’s why he didn’t say anything, who am I to blame him?
Another ten minutes pass before I am handed two pairs of gloves. One is a lighter color with a thin insulation layer, while the other pair is thicker but a little warmer. I go for the latter.
“Great choice, young man!” the shop owner says, smiling. “Are you Jake’s friend? He never brings anyone down to the village.”
I look around. Jake has disappeared, browsing somewhere. Lowering my voice a little as I hand the man cash for the gloves, I say, “Not really. I’m a guest who was having a very unfortunate time before Jake decided to be my savior.”
I’m met with a knowing chuckle. “That’s our Jakey. Always sticking his nose in other people’s business.” He knocks loudly on the wooden counter, tipping his chin at the painting of a summer landscape above the fireplace. “He used to help around the village before he started his chef training at the hotel. All kinds of handyman work and odd jobs. We all thought he’d start his own little thing, but one morning he came with this pie. Apple it was. Said to have a bite and tell him what I thought. Let me tell you, it was the most delicious pie I’ve ever had, better than even my granny’s. So I told him. He grinned and announced he was going to be a chef.”
I shake my head. Somehow, this sounds just like Jake. I haven’t known him for long, so I’m no expert, but I can imagine it so easily. He’s helping the folks around the village until one day he rushes here with a pie and decides to be a chef. It’s a bit ridiculous, but then again, so is Jake. In an intriguing and endearing way.
“Sounds about right,” I agree with a smile of my own.
“He’s a good kid. We’ll miss him when he leaves to start his own restaurant down south. It’s been his dream. But, maybe it’sfor the best. Gives folks like me a reason to leave this place and go on a holiday.”
When the man laughs again, I can’t help but join in. It’s so obvious he holds Jake dear, maybe even sees him as a son. But I can’t imagine it’s hard; Jake has a way with people, an easy charm that makes it impossible not to like him.
It’s the complete opposite of me, now that I think about it. I’m not an asshole, even though some people are quick to assume that, but I find it hard to make friends or chat random people up the way he does. Then there is my status. Some find it intimidating, others want to take advantage of it, so I also have to be careful who I let in.
I cut off a snort at myself. Not that I let Jake in.No, no.I didn’t really have a say in any of it. He simply barreled right in and made it impossible to ignore him.
“And here,” the man inhabiting my thoughts says behind me, and wraps a fluffy wool scarf around my neck. “How is it? Mine is a bit old, so I think it’s better to get you one.”
