“Most likely,” she agrees cheerfully. “But hey, where’s your holiday spirit?” She pushes open the double doors to the massive professional kitchen.
I grin. “I decked Santa, remember?”
She snorts, almost tripping as she walks. “What was your hashtag for that again?”
“#SantaSmackdown.”
She snaps her fingers. “No, no. Better. #KrisKringleKO.”
I pause, nodding like I’m impressed. “Good one.”
She bows low, like she’s on stage. “Thanks, I’ll be here all night.”
“Right, you are your own biggest fan.”
Her laugh bounces off the stainless steel as she wanders around inside the massive walk-in freezer. A puff of frosty air billows out, and she shivers. “Brr.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she disappears deeper inside. A moment later she re-emerges triumphant, carrying two meat-lovers frozen pizzas and a bag of vegetables dangling from her wrist.
“Perfect,” I say, holding up my own find. “I scored a box of instant potatoes. Now this is what I call a well-balanced meal. Coach will be thrilled I’m eating right during my suspension.”
Jaylynn arches a brow and sets the pizzas down with a thump. “We’re making the best of it.” She glances at the box in my hands. “Instant potatoes are my absolute favorite.”
I squint at her. “Are you serious?”
She bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “No. Did you just meet me?”
“Kind of,” I tease, still smirking.
She rips open the pizza boxes. “You know this place prides itself on fresh, organic, farm-to-table everything. And now? Busted.” She waves the frozen pizza in the air. “Turns out they’ve been taking shortcuts.”
“Good thing too,” I point out, reaching for a pot. “Otherwise we’d starve.”
“Fair.” She chuckles and starts searching the cupboards until she finds the right cookware. She sets a baking tray and a couple of pots on the counter, metal clanging against metal.
I tear open the potato pouch, skim the back of the box, and set it aside. “Easy enough. Water, boil, stir, try not to burn the place down.”
“Comforting,” she deadpans.
I pour water into the pot and flick the stove knob. A low hum fills the space as the burner glows red. The two of us move around the big, empty kitchen in a rhythm that feels… weirdly domestic. Like this isn’t going to be the first time we’re going to cook together, like maybe it could be the first of a hundred times.
And that thought alone heats me like a runaway puck.
“You actually look comfortable in a kitchen,” she says, pulling open the small refrigerator. The cool air spills out, frosting her cheeks pink.
I shrug, tearing open the pouch of potatoes. “I used to do a lot of the cooking growing up. Aunt Elaine said she couldn’t stand a useless man.” I smirk. “Yet, she married Earl.”
Jaylynn laughs, shaking her head as I give the pouch a shake before opening it. “Still,” I add, softer, “I’m glad she taught me. Someday maybe I can make you a real meal, with real potatoes.”
“Not much in there.” She closes the fridge, leans against it like she’s weighing her words. “If I get that job in Boston, I’m going to take you up on a real meal.”
My chest tightens. “Did you apply?”
Her hands go up in defeat. “Haven’t had a chance. I would’ve tonight, but…” She gestures around at the snowed-in country club, the storm raging outside. “Here we are. No service.”
“It’s not so bad, is it?” I ask, carefully.
The smile she gives me is small, genuine, and warm enough to thaw ice. “Not so bad, Penn.”
Just then, my pocket buzzes. “What the hell?” I dig out my phone, blinking at the screen like it’s a ghost. “It’s a text. From Jaxon.” I look around the kitchen like the walls are playing tricks. “I somehow got a signal in here.”