No offence taken, she replied evenly, but some stories aren’t meant to be shared with strangers during power outages. We’re hardly strangers now, Ethan countered. You’ve seen my mother in her vulnerabilities.
You’ve witnessed me driving through a blizzard for her. And I’ve seen—he paused, searching for words—what? Jessica challenged. What exactly do you think you’ve seen, Mr. Mitchell? Someone hiding, he said simply.
Someone much too intelligent and capable to be just managing a roadside diner. Someone running from something. Or someone.
The accuracy of his assessment sent a chill through Jessica that had nothing to do with the storm outside. Eleanor Mitchell awoke disoriented, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. The events of the day slowly returned.
The taxi, the blinding snow, the kind young woman at the diner. She sat up carefully, her joints protesting. You’re awake.
Eleanor turned to find her son sitting in a chair beside the small couch, his features softened in the dim emergency lighting. Ethan, she breathed, tears springing to her eyes. You came.
Of course I came. You left me a voicemail saying you were stranded in a blizzard. His tone was measured, but Eleanor could hear the concern beneath it.
I wanted to surprise you. For your birthday. She reached for his hand, half expecting him to pull away as he always did.
To her surprise, he allowed the contact. My birthday isn’t for three days, he said, but without the coldness that had characterized their interactions in recent years. I know.
I thought… I thought we might need time to talk before celebrating. Eleanor squeezed his fingers. I’ve missed you, Ethan.
Something flickered in his eyes, the same vulnerability she remembered from when he was a boy, quickly shuttered behind practice control. The roads are closed, he said instead of addressing her comment. We’ll have to stay here tonight.
The manager has been very accommodating. Jessica, Eleanor smiled. She’s a remarkable young woman, isn’t she? So capable.
Reminds me of myself at that age. Ethan’s expression shifted subtly. There’s something unusual about her.
She doesn’t fit here. Not everyone belongs where life has placed them, Eleanor replied softly. You taught me that.
Before Ethan could respond, the office door opened and Jessica appeared with a tray. I thought I heard voices. How are you feeling, Eleanor? Her smile was warm as she set down a steaming bowl of soup and fresh tea.
Much better, dear. And so happy to see my son. You’ve been very kind to my mother, Ethan said standing.
What do we owe you for your trouble? Jessica’s expression cooled. Nothing. Contrary to what you might believe, Mr. Mitchell, not everything has a price tag.
Eleanor glanced between them, sensing tension. Jessica, please call him Ethan. And Ethan, stop trying to throw money at every situation.
The poor girl offered shelter, not services. Jessica suppressed a smile at Eleanor’s frank assessment. It’s fine.
Mr. Mitchell and I have already established our differing perspectives. Have we? Ethan raised an eyebrow. I thought we were just getting acquainted.
And the semantics? Jessica replied with a dismissive wave. Eleanor, the bathroom is down the hall if you need it. The power’s out, but we have emergency lighting and the heat is working.
Thank you, dear. Eleanor’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed the charged atmosphere between her son and the young manager. Perhaps you could show Ethan where he’ll be sleeping while I freshen up.
Jessica nodded, though her expression suggested she’d rather show Ethan the door. This way, Mr. Mitchell. She led him upstairs to a small room containing a desk, a mini-fridge, and a narrow cot.
Staff break room. Not exactly the penthouse, but it’s the best I can offer. Ethan surveyed the humble space without comment.
And where will you sleep? I’ll take one of the booths downstairs. I want to stay near the main entrance in case anyone else needs shelter. He frowned.
Take the cot. I’ll sleep in a booth. I’m not giving the CEO of Mitchell Innovations a backache on my watch, Jessica retorted.
The last thing I need is a lawsuit because you couldn’t properly code after sleeping on vinyl upholstery. Despite himself, Ethan felt his lips twitch. Is that your professional assessment? Just practical risk management.
She turned to leave, but he stepped into her path. Why do I get the distinct impression you’re trying to avoid being alone with me? He asked, his voice lower than before. Jessica met his gaze evenly.
Because you’re used to women seeking your company, not avoiding it? Touché. He smiled then. A genuine smile that transformed his features from merely handsome to devastating.
But that doesn’t answer my question. I have a diner to manage during a power outage. And Blizzard.
Entertaining you isn’t on my priority list. Entertaining me? Ethan echoed, stepping closer. Is that what you think I want? Entertainment? Jessica refused to back away, despite his proximity.
The small room suddenly felt even smaller. The air between them charged with something dangerous. I think you’re a man used to getting what he wants, she said quietly.
And right now, you want to solve the puzzle I apparently represent. I’m not interested in being analysed or acquired, Mr. Mitchell. Ethan, he corrected again, softer this time.
Ethan, she conceded. Now, if you’ll excuse me… The building creaked ominously as a particularly strong gust of wind battered the old structure. Jessica instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand landing on Ethan’s chest.
Through the fine material of his shirt, she could feel his heart beating, fast, like hers. For one breathless moment, they stood frozen, connected by that single point of contact. Jessica became acutely aware of his height, the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body in the chilly room.
She pulled away first, clearing her throat. I should check the generator. Downstairs, Jessica found Eleanor arranging blankets in one of the booths.
You don’t have to do that, she protested. Nonsense, I’m not an invalid. Eleanor smoothed the blanket with practised hands.
Besides, it gives me something to do while you and my son circle each other like wary cats. Jessica felt heat rise to her cheeks. I don’t know what you mean.
Of course you don’t. Eleanor’s smile was knowing. He’s difficult, my Ethan.
Life made him that way, but there’s a good heart underneath all that armour. Mrs. Mitchell. Eleanor, please.
Eleanor, whatever you think you observed between your son and me, I assure you it’s nothing. We’re strangers who happen to be trapped by a storm. Fate has interesting methods, Eleanor replied cryptically.
Now tell me more about yourself, Jessica. What brought you to this charming little diner? Jessica busied herself adjusting candles. It’s not an exciting story.
I disagree, came Ethan’s voice as he descended the stairs. I think it’s probably very exciting. Jessica shot him a warning glance.
Your mother needs rest, not my life history. Actually, Eleanor interjected, what I need is food. I’m starving.
Grateful for the diversion, Jessica headed to the kitchen. I can make sandwiches. The gas stove still works if you’d prefer something hot…
