The next morning, Kat woke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time. Jack’s bed, piled high with thick, cozy blankets, had created a snug cocoon, and the plaid pajamas he’d loaned her still carried his scent.
She raised her arm, burying her nose in the soft sleeve. But she could barely make out the lingering notes of cedar and chicory as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon flooded the bedroom.
Throwing back the covers, Kat slipped from between the flannel sheets, grateful Jack’s wool socks protected her feet from the cold hardwood floor.
As she padded softly down the narrow hallway, a sharp bark startled her. Instantly concerned, she dashed into the living room, her pulse racing. “What’s wrong? Is Fitz okay?”
“We’ve adopted quite the beggar,” Jack said with a chuckle.
Her heart sputtered at his use of we, but she tried not to read into it.
As though he’d transformed overnight, Fitz sat on his haunches, his furry backside wiggling in excitement as Jack dangled a strip of bacon.
“Let’s show Bennet what you learned.” Holding out his free hand, Jack commanded, “Shake.”
To Kat’s surprise, Fitz placed his large paw in Jack’s open palm.
“Good boy,” Jack praised before tossing the reward.
Fitz caught it midair, gobbling it down with gusto.
Kat smiled as she watched the adorable exchange. “I’m impressed. You just taught him that?”
“He’s a quick study.”
When he’d finished scarfing down his reward, the pup trotted over to Kat, nudging her leg with his muzzle.
“Good morning to you, too,” she laughed, scratching behind his fluffy ears.
“What’d I tell you? He’s a beggar.” Grabbing a long, ivory object from the counter, he offered it to the dog. “Here, buddy. Try this.”
Fitz sniffed it a moment before taking it gently from Jack’s hand. Prancing toward his bed by the fire, he stretched out on the blanket and began gnawing on his new treat.
“What was that?” Kat asked, sliding onto a barstool at the generous island. She noticed the kitchen seemed particularly well equipped given the modest size of the cabin.
“It’s a deer antler. My sister gave it to me as some sort of decoration last Christmas. She studied interior design and has made it her mission to improve my bachelor pad, as she calls it.”
Kat glanced around the sparse space, noting the obvious lack of cohesive style. Unless minimalist lumberjack counted as a style. “She has her work cut out for her,” she teased.
He laughed—deep and rumbling. She found the sound comforting, like the murmur of a warm, inviting fire. And for a fleeting moment, she wondered if Jack could sing. His voice carried a certain richness and clarity common in skilled vocalists—a quality her mother had possessed in spades. But she quickly pushed the thought aside, not wanting unpleasant memories to dampen the mood.
“No argument there,” he confessed with a grin. “And she does her best. But I’m not into knickknacks. However, it makes an excellent chew toy for my new houseguest.”
With his bushy tail fluttering like a feather duster, Fitz appeared more than happy to take the trinket off Jack’s hands.
“Any luck finding his owner?”
“I made a few calls this morning.” Jack poured steaming, aromatic coffee into two mugs, and asked, “How do you take it?”
“Black is perfect, thanks.”
He slid the mug toward her. “It seems no one in town owns a dog that matches Fitz’s description.”
“So, you’re keeping him?” She couldn’t help the hopeful tremor in her voice.
Jack gazed at the ball of white fluff with affection. “What can I say? He grows on you.”
“He sure does. And he seems to have recovered overnight.”
“I guess all he needed was a good meal and a warm place to sleep. Speaking of which, how did you sleep?”
“Like a baby. You?”
“Never better.”
She hid a smile behind the rim of her mug, knowing that couldn’t be true. He’d opted to sleep on the couch by Fitz rather than the guest house, so he could keep an eye on the pup throughout the night. And he’d insisted she take his room since it was the most comfortable.
As Jack resumed fixing breakfast, Kat took a sip of coffee, recognizing the hints of cinnamon and caramel as it warmed her throat. “This is Cassie’s Christmas Morning blend, isn’t it?”
“It is, but if you tell anyone I drink froufrou flavored coffee, I’ll deny it with my last breath.”
“My lips are sealed,” she laughed, noticing the way he poured the pancake batter with a practiced hand. “Why don’t you serve breakfast at the diner? You obviously know what you’re doing.”
He didn’t respond right away, creating perfect circles of batter on the round cast-iron skillet. “I usually tell people it’s because we’re busy enough as it is.”
“That isn’t true?”
“It’s true, but it isn’t the main reason.”
Kat sipped her coffee, savoring each scintillating flavor note, waiting for him to continue.
“I cooked my first meal completely on my own when I was ten years old. My parents had both started jobs early in the morning, which left me in charge of breakfast.”
“What did you make?”
“Flapjacks and bacon. On this very skillet, actually.” A wistful expression stole over him as he studied the tiny bubbles perforating the thick batter. “I loved making breakfast for my family. And flapjacks in particular are still sentimental. They remind me of when life was simple and full of joy, before my parents’ obsession with wealth and status ruined everything.” His features clouded a moment, and Kat wondered how deep his wounds with his family ran.
But his countenance quickly brightened as he seemed to shake the unpleasant memories loose with a smile. “Now I only like to make them for special people in my life. Doing it for work would lose some of the magic, as sappy as that sounds. Of course, now that I talked them up so much, I better not burn them, huh?” He chuckled, flipping one over with an expert flick of his wrist.
Kat sat in breathless silence, not knowing what to say.
Had Jack just referred to her as someone special?
As Jack slid the heaping mound of food in front of Kat, his heart pounded inside his chest. What if she didn’t like it? What if he’d accidentally added too much salt or nutmeg? He should have made a test batch first.
“Are you going to join me? Or stand there and stare at me while I eat?” she asked with a teasing lilt.
Flustered, Jack cleared his throat. After grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer, he hopped on the barstool next to her, facing the kitchen window.
The world beyond the frosted glass sparkled in the sunlight, making every snow-covered surface appear as though it had been encrusted with a million melee diamonds.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kat drizzle maple syrup over her stack of flapjacks while he nibbled on a strip of crisp bacon, barely tasting the smoky, applewood flavor.
As she brought the first bite to her lips, his breath lodged in his throat.
She chewed—agonizingly slow—until she finally swallowed. To his relief, a smile danced on her lips as she said, “It’s a shame you don’t serve breakfast. I’d eat at the diner every morning if this were on the menu.”
A goofy grin stretched across his face, but he didn’t care. “Every morning, huh? If that’s what it takes to keep you in town, I might consider it.”
A pretty blush dusted her cheeks, giving him the courage to continue. “I was thinking… since this is your first snow day, you have some catching up to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never gone sledding, made a snow angel, or had a snowball fight.”
“That’s true….” She raised one eyebrow as though curious to see where he was going with his observation.
“Instead of rushing back into town, I thought we’d check a few things off the list. What do you say? Are you game?”
She hesitated a moment, dragging her fork through a puddle of syrup. “Okay,” she said at last, with a twinge of reservation.
“Great!” he cheered with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.
“But I have to warn you,” she added, her green eyes glinting playfully. “You’ll probably lose the snowball fight.”
“Is that so?”
“After several years of Krav Maga, I have a tactical advantage. Frankly, you don’t stand a chance.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“May the best woman win.” She smirked as she raised her mug in a salute.
“Challenge accepted.” As he clinked his cup against hers, he realized he meant far more than winning a snowball fight.