Page 8 of Snowed in with My Pucking Ex
“And holiday spirit,” I mumble. My cheeks pink for an entirely different reason that I may conveniently blame on the weather.
He chuckles, “Ah, right. How could I forget the sprinkles and mini marshmallows? Let’s head in and get you another drink, now that I’ve ruined your morning fix.”
“Oh, please, I’m the one who has probably ruined yours. The coffee is on me,” I offer. Although I don’t know why I bother, the guy is a professional hockey player and makes a ton of money. Dad saw a few articles on contract negotiations happening with Sean and his current team a while back, which he may have mentioned in passing a time or two. Apparently, the big bucks aren’t going to the new rookie players, but to the well-oiled veterans who make the Pines plenty of money. This is all according to my father.
We head inside, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he holds the door open for me and then also for Mrs. Jacolby, wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving on her way out. I use the much-needed quick distraction to immediately go for a pile of napkins.Grabbing a handful, I clean my sticky fingers first and then turn to the big guy. My hands are on him in the next blink, dabbing, brushing, and eventually lifting the jacket material to see if it’s wet underneath to wipe, before it hits me what I’m doing. I’d lifted his shirt accidentally, too, in my rush, and I managed to get an eyeful of bare skin. Let me just say, the man obviously doesn’t miss a workout. I can’t believe he even drinks coffee with the firm stomach I just got a glimpse of.
Well, now I’m going to have to fight myself from salivating over him all over again, since my mind won’t stop picturing the light outline of his abs. Nor the dark sprinkle of hair leading lower. And those hips. Christ on a cracker, the man has those hip muscle thingies that pop out and drive women wild. This is exactly not what I need to be seeing or thinking of, since I’ll have him in my home all day tomorrow and will have to play it off like I’m unruffled the entire time.
Taking a step back, I offer him a sheepish grin and drop the material of his jacket and shirt. I hold the wad of napkins out, “Here. Um, in case I, uh, missed some,” I offer, feeling like I’m in third grade with my first crush and we’re trading pudding cups at lunch time. Seriously, though, who can blame me? The guy is insanely gorgeous. Dimples. Sparkling eyes. Messy but styled hair. Windblown cheeks.
Gah, he’s sort of beautiful for a man, and so tall. He’s got thosegood-goodgenes.
“Thanks.” He unzips his jacket, pulling the material off and somehow in the process making it look like a noteworthy task. I bet he does the reach behind tug-thingy guys do when removing their shirts, too. How do they even manage it? I’ve tried but nearly choked myself in the process. Thankfully, no one was around to bear witness to one of my many shenanigans I do for research purposes.
“What would you like?” I ask, gesturing to the giant chalkboard menu on the wall behind the main counter. Although I can still remember his order as if it were yesterday. I won’t be admitting as much to him, though, especially since I seem to stick my foot in my mouth every chance I get where he’s concerned. I’m desperately trying to come off as nonchalant as possible, considering he seems to take everything in stride, handling my chaos as it comes.
He smiles at Janet as she stands behind the counter and tells her, “Large Americano for me, please.”
“I’ll have a repeat of my last order. I accidentally dumped mine on Sean,” I explain, gesturing to the man behind me.
I tug my phone from my back pocket to grab my debit card out of the attached card holder while Janet makes our drinks. A moment later, she sets them on the counter and then takes my card, swiping it. She’s in the middle of telling Sean what fresh-baked goods she’ll have at her booth on the opening night of the festival when the card machine makes a loud beep.
She meets my gaze, brow furrowed. “Hey, sweetie, your card says it’s been declined.” She’s not being rude; she’s Mom’s age and has known me my entire life, so I don’t mind her calling me sweetie.
Back to her question…there’s no way. “That can’t be right. Please swipe it again for me.”
“Sure thing,” she does as asked, and a beat later, the obnoxious beeping sound happens again. She shakes her head, but it’s not necessary. The entire coffee shop and its patrons have a front row seat to my morning of shame and already know my card has been declined at this point.
“I got this one,” Sean quickly offers as he reaches over my shoulder, holding out his shiny black card. He leans so close, I can feel his warmth on my back, and my toes curl in my boots.I get a whiff of his signature scent, and it’s enough to make me momentarily dizzy with how good it smells.
Janet hands me my dead plastic back, and I decide right here and now I’d like the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I was somerryon my way into town, but things are quickly going to hell in a handbasket at this rate. There’s no way I’m spending my vacation at home being miserable when there’s no place I’d rather be for the holidays. I have to remind myself of the things I’m thankful for and what this season truly encompasses. Goodwill, kindness, and love toward others. I can do this.
“Thank you,” I tell him, while grabbing my fresh cappuccinos. “I’m sorry again, but this time for not being able to cover the coffee. I don’t know if my card is frozen from traveling out of town, or what is going on with it.” I admit and then set my two large cups down on the only free table in front of the windows.
I tug my cell free as he follows me. “Bring your jacket to my parents’ house any time, and I’ll clean it for you. I hope I didn’t mess your day up too badly.” I flash him a small smile, hopeful that I look remorseful, and then turn away. I’m expecting that to be the end of our interaction today, and for him to leave and do whatever he was planning to accomplish before I nearly burned the poor man’s skin off first thing in the morning. I immediately pull up my banking app on my cell since the service is good right here, and attempt to figure out what’s happening with my account. I’m engrossed in the transaction history, ignoring everyone around me, when the chair across from me at my same table is pulled out, and then Sean’s large, overpowering presence fills the space.
He meets my stare, “Sit with me for a minute and tell me what has you up this early, and on the hunt for extra caffeine? Or did I read this wrong and you’re taking coffee to your father?”
I shake my head while keying in my password. “No, he had his already. I was craving the extra sweet stuff today. I have a lot ofwork ahead of me and need the sugar and caffeine jolt.” I leave out the part about dreaming of him all night long, especially since I was nearly petting his stomach earlier.
The app takes forever to load, making me sigh in frustration. My bars will drop if I leave, so I’m not going anywhere at the moment. I move the closest chair back just enough until I can squeeze in the space and sit. My gaze stays still locked on my phone as my account information finally pops up, then my mouth drops open in utter shock.
A strange noise leaves me, that’s a cross somewhere between a woosh, from the air leaving my lungs, to a desperate cry of disbelief.
Chapter Six
Sean
“Winter? What is it?” I question as she stares at her phone, disbelief and heartbreak written all over her face. I hate seeing her so torn, and her crestfallen expression has my heart beating a million miles an hour, and not in the good sort of way. I’m panicking inside, wondering how on earth I can get that look off her face immediately. How I can possibly help without her turning me away, because let’s be real, she’s always been a bit headstrong.
“I-it’s my a-account,” she quietly stammers, her lower lip trembling.
The last time I saw that lip shake was when I told her I couldn’t see her anymore, that I was moving away without her. Witnessing it again is breaking my heart, not being able to stop it.
“Everything isgone, it’s completely empty! Actually, it’s overdrawn now, from my coffee charge earlier.”
I reach across the table, my hand landing on top of hers as I lean in to take a look at her screen. It’s none of my business, but I can’t seem to help myself where this woman is concerned, and so help me, but I want to be in the middle of whatever she’ll allow. “You were supposed to have money in there?” I dumbly ask. It’s the wrong thing to say, as she suddenly bursts into tears. She’s in emotional distress, and I’m the idiot asking if her bank account is supposed to have money in it. Of course it is. “Wait, back up. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
