Page 7 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

He chuckles, deep and rich, and something about that sound sends a thrill through me. “Hey, no judgment. Everyone’s got their thing.”

“What’s yours then? You don’t strike me as the mukbang type.”

He smiles, and holy hell, that smile could melt glaciers. “Vintage cars. And whiskey tasting. Something about working on old engines, the craftsmanship...it relaxes me.” He pauses, looking amused. “Plus, the whiskey helps.”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. “Whiskey helps a lot of things.”

“That it does.” He turns toward me, eyes locking onto mine, and there’s this...electricity in the air. I’m not imagining it, right?

“You heading to Chicago?” His voice is deep. Smooth.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual like my pulse isn’t doing some kind of weird backflip. “Just...traveling for a bit.”

Lie. But what am I supposed to say?

“Oh yeah, I’m going to Chicago to beg my old friend to save my ruined career because I’m the chef everyone’s laughing at right now.”

Yeah,no.

He raises an eyebrow, just the tiniest bit. “Traveling, huh? You don’t look like the backpacking-through-Europe type.”

I snort. “What, do I look like a five-star resort girl?”

He grins, and I swear it’s the most devastating thing I’ve ever seen. “You look like trouble.”

I choke on a laugh. “Trouble? Wow, that’s a new one. I’ve been called a lot of things lately, but ‘trouble’ sounds almost...flattering.”

He leans back in his seat, eyes still on me, studying me like I’m some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “I call it like I see it. So, are you from Chicago?”

I shrug. “Used to be. Moved away a few years ago.”

His gaze lingers on my face for a moment before he says, “Name’s Jared. Jared Maddox.” He sticks out his hand, and his grip is firm, confident. Exactly how I expected it to be.

I hesitate for a split second before answering, “Savannah.”

No last name. The last thing I need is him Googling me mid-flight and finding out I’m a walking PR disaster.

He lets go of my hand but doesn’t drop the conversation. “So, what do you do when you’re not...traveling?”

Shit. Here we go. I could tell him the truth, but that would probably kill any chance I have of keeping this conversation flirty. “I, uh...cook.”

A half-truth, at least.

His eyes light up with interest. “Cook? Like professionally?”

“Something like that.” I shift in my seat, not wanting to get into the whole Lemons drama. “What about you?”

He gestures toward his laptop. “Corporate lawyer. But I dabble in other things.”

He says it so casually like he’s used to people being impressed.

“Lawyer, huh? That explains the suit.” I let my gaze travel over him—slowly, just enough to make sure he notices. “But the rolled-up sleeves? That’s throwing me off. You’re not one of those stiff, uptight lawyers, are you?”

Jared smirks, and I can feel the tension ratchet up another notch. “I’m a lot of things, Savannah. Uptight isn’t one of them.”

“Oh? Then what are you?”

He leans in, just enough that I catch another whiff of cedarwood and leather. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

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