Page 20 of Snowed Inn

EL: like death 💀

ME: go 2 🛏

EL: thank u again

ME: do not mention it. i am having fun.

EL: i don’t believe u but thank u anyway

I get why El’s skeptical, but as surprising as it seems, the truth is I am having fun. Talking to the customers—wishing everyone a Merry Christmas—has been delightful. It’s way more interesting than, say, staring at my phone. Which, by the way, I haven’t even looked at in hours.

Even more surprising? Jesse and I work in sync. He jumps in when I get overwhelmed, and I handle the POS while he does extremely difficult things like pulling fancy mochaccinos.

“You’re a bartender and a barista?” I ask as Jesse makes another perfect latte.

“I worked in restaurants,” he says, shrugging. “I paid attention.”

Hmm. I nod. “My nonna would love that answer.”

He pauses, a flicker of surprise rippling across his features. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She always says paying attention is the key to life.”

For some reason, that makes Jesse smile.

Which makes me feel a little . . . fluttery.

Dangerous territory. I turn my attention sharply back to my new best friend, the POS machine.

At four p.m., I’m practically glowing. I did it. I ran a bakery (nearly) all by myself for the better part of the day. I’m smiling to myself and humming “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” as I shut down the system and wipe the counters.

But then I think of something . . . something depressing.

I have nowhere to go for Christmas dinner.

My stomach immediately twists into knots.

At home, my family is probably piled on the couch in flannel pajamas, arguing about which old Christmas movie to watch for the tenth time while my dad pretends he’s not going to cry at the ending.

I have . . . a kitten and a sick friend and nothing to eat.

“What are you doing tonight?” Jesse’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

I jump about a foot in the air.

“Geez,” I gasp. “Wear a bell or something.”

He chuckles. “So?”

I hesitate.

Admitting I have no plans feels too vulnerable. In the city, I always have plans.

But Jesse just waits, arms crossed, watching me.

And then—to my absolute shock—he says, “Want to have dinner with me?”

Chapter 7