8. Jake

Chapter 8

Jake

Ethan is adorably clumsy, but it supplies an endless stream of excuses for me to touch him so I can demonstrate how to shape the snow. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The same goes for the kiss I steal when our snowman is finally standing, ready and proud and sporting the crooked carrot I snatched from the kitchen for his nose. It was meant to be my snack, but this is a way better application for it.

“It’s kind of cute,” Ethan says, scrunching his mouth in an adorably cute frown.

I wrap my arms around him from behind and pull him close. His warmth mixes in with mine, sending a series of delicious shivers across me. “It is.” I peck his cheek. “But you are cuter.”

He chuckles and spins around, meeting me in a quick, sweet kiss. “This was fun. Thank you. Building a snowman wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To come up with all these crazy ideas you wouldn’t normally even consider.”

“You don’t know how true that is.”

But I do, I think. He’s the type that likes to be in control. To have everything planned and to know exactly how things will go. I’m the opposite. I don’t mind having a general direction, or a goal, but I like to enjoy the how. The journey, if you will. In our world, the results are what matters the most, but if you focus only on them and forget to have fun while getting there, then you are missing out on living.

And Ethan most definitely has a lot of living to do. He’s set for life thanks to his hard work and the inability to relax. He just doesn’t know how to slow down and live in the present. Thus, it is my duty to show him, even if just for a few days.

“Ready to go back?” I hold my gloved hand out and watch the snowflakes pile on it. “It’s starting to pick up.”

He mirrors my gesture. “I could definitely go for a hot shower.”

“You’re reading my mind.” Taking out my phone, I snap a quick and probably shitty selfie of us with the snowman visible to our left. “Okay. Now we can go.”

He nods, wiggling out of my hold. He stretches his shoulders and throws me an amused look as we head toward the fence so we can get back on the road. “Send me that.”

I give him a sideways glance. “I’d need your phone number for that. Or a social media profile to look up.”

He pauses by the fence, one hand squeezing the top plank while the other one taps against his chin. “I guess I’ll have to give you my phone number. It’s more secure… for sending files.”

“Oh, yeah? Totally.” I offer him my hand and he takes it, letting me help him over the fence. “You wouldn’t want one of your company’s competitors getting hold of such compromising photos.”

To his credit, he does a great job maintaining his deadpan expression. “God forbid it came out that Ethan Ward made a snowman and enjoyed it.”

I don’t have so much self-control as him. My laugh barks out among the quiet and the snow. It pulls a shy smile out of him too, so I count it as a win. We exchange phone numbers and then I send him the photo and tuck my device back in my pocket as he does the same.

“You have a nice laugh,” he says, sounding a little wondrous.

“Nice how?” I probe, curious and a little giddy.

He’s lost in thought for a few minutes, and I use the opportunity to find his hand and lace our fingers together. The gloves make it a little uncomfortable, but he doesn’t pull away and neither do I.

“It’s free. Loud. Like you don’t care what others might say. You are enjoying yourself, and the world has no choice but to accept it.” He chuckles, gazing at the snow-covered fields that follow us as we slowly head up the hill. “It’s nice.”

I can only stare at him. No one has ever told me something like this. My heart is sprinting like a mad thing, happy and overwhelmed. This is the kind of compliment that’s not really a compliment. It comes from somewhere deep and genuine. It’s not just words or someone being nice because it’s socially acceptable to be nice. It’s what Ethan really thinks, unfiltered and raw and so undeniably wonderful.

When I remain stunned and the pause in our conversation drags, he glances at me with narrowed eyebrows. “Sorry if I said something strange. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Shaking my head, I flash him my biggest grin. “Oh, trust me. You didn’t offend me. It’s quite the opposite. I’m so impressed and humbled, I’m speechless.”

He hums, self-satisfaction pouring off him. We can see the hotel now, its modern form looming like a sentinel keeping watch over the village. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Believe me, I do. But it’s more fun to just roll with things than to dwell on the negatives. If life decides I’m stuck working under someone for a couple years so I can open my own restaurant, you bet I’m lowkey kidnapping the hot businessman so I can make him drink cocoa and build snowmen with me.”

Ethan graces me with the most beautiful laugh I’ve heard in my life. It’s a little unhinged and throaty. His entire face lights up, every muscle participating. I’m entranced. I’m the one who made him laugh so openly, and I can’t look away. He’s laughing for me and because of me, and it’s the best feeling ever.

“Are you done?” I say jokingly when he calms down, overplaying a pout.

It doesn’t fool him, his twinkling eyes doing the equivalent of an elegant eyeroll. “What kind of restaurant do you want to open?”

We are at the base of the hotel stairs, just in front of the main entrance. The building blocks some of the snow and wind, but we climb up and find a spot by the outside tables where the awning starts. Since the games were canceled due to the still ongoing power cut, it’s empty of people.

“Well,” I start, propping my ass against the nearest table. “I love to experiment with all kinds of stuff, but I have a soft spot for baking. So I’d love to open a place that specializes in that. Maybe somewhere south, by the ocean.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “So, a bakery?”

“That’s the thing. Not really. Bread and stuff wouldn’t be the focus. It will be a restaurant that offers fusion cuisine, but with a focus on the desserts. If that makes sense. We’ll have these sets… like the ‘Mediterranean Summer Dream’. They’ll be based on a specific theme, but we’ll localize it a little. So, for example, the Summer Dream would feature fish you can catch here, but the marinade would reflect the Mediterranean. Same with the dessert, except I get more freedom to experiment while maintaining the overall theme and range of flavors.”

I wait with held breath as Ethan seems to think over what I’ve said. When he’s reached some conclusion about it, he looks up at me. “You’ve thought this through.”

I shrug. “It’s been my dream since forever. I know it will be hard. But I also think that what I want to offer will intrigue people. All I need is for them to give me a chance and I am positive they’ll love the experience and come back.”

It won’t be as easy as that, of course. I’m fully aware of that. Any business venture requires a lot more than just a product or service these days. You need marketing, promo, word of mouth, ratings, reviews. But that’s just part of the game, so I can’t let it intimidate me.

I got this. Even if it won’t be next year. I’m working toward my goal, and I will get there.

“Have you put together a business plan?” Ethan asks, his expression back to that businessman neutrality. He’s slipped into work mode I think, which is the last thing I wanted. He should be relaxing and having fun, not analyzing the probabilities of my venture succeeding or not.

“Why, you wanna see it?” I joke it off, snorting. “I do, but it’s not finalized. Plus, you are on holiday and therefore not allowed to do work in any capacity.”

He purses his lips in the most adorable way imaginable. “But I’m curious now. Just a quick peek doesn’t count as work. It’s for fun. I promise I won’t try to evaluate it or anything.” He flutters his long eyelashes at me and nuzzles his nose into my scarf, inhaling it. “Please?”

As if I could say no to this and his devastatingly adorable puppy eyes. “Fine. I’ll send you the document later. But you are not allowed to analyze it or anything. I can’t afford your rates.”

“I do pro-bono sometimes.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Uh-huh? Try saying that again, but like you actually mean it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ve done it only once, and it was for my best friend. But it still counts.”

“Still no. I’m serious. You don’t have to do anything just because…” I wave my arms around and wiggle my eyebrows. “We get along and had some fun in the snow.”

He chuckles, letting out a resigned sigh. “There’s no winning against you, is there?”

“Nope. It’s part of my charm.” My phone alarm goes off, telling me I need to be in the kitchen in ten minutes. “I have to run. I really really enjoyed today. You’re a nice guy, Ethan, even if it might seem otherwise at first. Catch you later.”

For the first time in ages, a pang of frustration accompanies me as I head to my workstation and start preparing for dinner service. It would be so much fun if Ethan was here so I could chat to him while cooking and use him for taste-testing. I bet he’d enjoy it.

But he’s not. And in a couple of days, he will go back to his glamorous life. He inhabits a different world from mine, and I have no place in it. We met by chance because he got stranded here. We got along. We kissed. There is a spark between us, but not a whole lot of time to explore it.

You could even say we are doomed, because we are simply nothing but specs of distraction on each other’s radars. Momentary and fleeting. Enough for a fling, but nothing substantial.

It makes sense. It’s logical. And Ethan is a very logical person. Cause and effect are his MO. He likes to be prepared, for things to go the expected way. I’d go as far as to say he’s allergic to anything spontaneous.

But he also has a soft spot for me. So, the opportunist that I am, I will make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime development and take my shot with him.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen?