No matter what I tell myself, I can’t take my eyes off the vision before me. Jasper is only wearing tight black boxer briefs that leave little to the imagination as he makes coffee. That’s all I can say without my brain flooding with flashes of me licking his smooth skin. I don’t usually go this crazy over men and their bodies, making the situation even more comical.
“Can you give me my morning jacket? I left it there on that chair yesterday,” he says throatily, pointing at one of the bar stools next to the kitchen island, completely missing my reaction to his current lack of attire.
Wait, his what now? Did I lose my ability to speak English after seeing him almost naked?
It must be another language barrier thing, so I curiously ask, “What’s a morning jacket?”
“Ah, sorry, my brain isn’t working right before coffee. What I meant was my bathrobe. Some people call it aamutakki here in Finland, which directly translates to a morning jacket. Like I said, can’t think before coffee. Need coffee,” he murmurs, his cheeks reddening while he looks down.
His embarrassment about the little language mishap is adorable. He speaks fluent English, so small things like this only show that he’s human like the rest of us.
“Jas,” I say to catch his attention, handing the soft black terry cloth bathrobe to him.
He grabs it and looks directly into my eyes. Those blue eyes sparkle with amusement even if his cheeks are blushing. Now, this is a look I could get used to. “You just called me Jas.”
“I heard your family using it yesterday, and I thought it was okay.”
“It is—I really like hearing my name coming from your lips.” His voice goes husky before he continues our previous conversation. “After switching between languages for the past two days, it’s a weird mess inside my head.”
“I’m still amazed that you speak two languages fluently, so don’t worry about it.”
“Actually, three, but who’s counting?” Jasper jokes, reminding me of our conversation yesterday. He then walks past me, wearing his morning jacket over his boxers, unfastened to reveal his front. He opens the fridge and grabs a few items. Based on the ingredients, he’s making an omelet with cheese and vegetables.
“Is that your typical breakfast?” I ask as I have no idea what hockey players eat to keep up with their training regime and games.
“It depends on what the team nutritionist tells me to eat each week. We often have breakfast at the practice arena, too.”
“Are there any foods you miss having?”
He shakes his head. “Not really. I can eat most of my favorite foods, even when I follow the meal plan like 95 percent of the time. It was created to match my needs and preferences. It’s all about the portion size and not eating junk food daily.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“All different pasta dishes. Carb-rich foods are especially great on game days to avoid feeling uncomfortable and sluggish.”
“Huh, so no cutting carbs for you?”
“No way—carbs are the best fuel out there, and then I eat lots of protein to rebuild and maintain my muscles. It’s all about where I get those carbs from.” He explains while cutting an onion, blinking his eyes quickly. “Would you like an omelet, too? I also have toast with some salmon to go with it.”
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine with what I’m making for myself—it’s my favorite breakfast bowl recipe.”
“Any other favorite foods I should know about?”
I ponder his question for a moment. “I love simple things like a good steak and potatoes.”
“A girl after my own heart.” Jasper winks before resuming cooking.
Now that’s a sight to remember—him making breakfast while only wearing boxers and a bathrobe.
* * *
We finish making our breakfast in silence. I start thinking about how I could get used to doing things together when Jasper walks past me…still not wearing much.
“Are you joining me for breakfast, or would you rather just stand there and stare at my award-winning butt?”
His comment gets me out of my thoughts. “Your what?”
“Award-winning butt. It has been voted the best butt in the NHL for the past four years.”
