Page 3 of Accidentally Amy

“Blake!”

Both our heads whipped toward the barista, and I might’ve audibly gasped at the interruption, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Um, that’s me,” he said, his eyes narrowing on me for a split second—like he was thinking somethingabout me—beforehe pointed and leaned forward to reach around me for his cup. The faint smell of cologne hit me as he grabbed his coffee, a subtle scent that was crisp and somehow woodsy, and I had the inexplicable urge to nuzzle his throat.

Get it together, dipshit. Be cool.

He leaned down so I could hear him over the noise of the crowded coffee shop, and his deep voice found my ear with, “Do you want to grab a table—”

“Oh, no—what time is it?” The wordtablejolted me into real life and damn it, I was screwing up.Damn it, damn it, damn it.He might’ve said the time, I don’t know, but I was too busy pulling my phone out of my pocket to hear him. I looked at the display, panic surging through me, and I muttered, “Oh, my God, I’m late, I have to go.”

He was still watching me with that look on his face as I fished my keys out of my pocket, and I knew I needed to saysomethingbefore sprinting to my car like a lunatic.

“I come here every morning around seven forty-five, so if you want to be reimbursed for the dry cleaning or say hello and eat a cake bite or, um, anything else,” I rambled, “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay—”

“Gotta run—nice meeting you!” I bolted for the exit, literally jogging around tables in my three-inch patent leather pumps. And as I pulled open the door, I heard that butterfly-inducing voice say from behind me—

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Amy.”

Amy?

Oh, no.

Chapter Two

Izzy

I hitched the tote bag over my shoulder and headed for the elevators, feeling downright giddy over the way my first day was going so far. I’d spent all morning with my team, shadowing the HR generalist whose position I was filling, and it’d been—no joke—fun.

Seriously.

Everyone in the department seemed to get along, the work appeared to be challenging but not too stressful, and I actually had an (incredibly small) office with my name on the door.

And yes, I had already taken multiple photos.

In addition to that little nugget of fantasticality, Incite Fitness—the city’s hottest health club—was located on the twelfth floor of the building next door, and Ellis employees were able to use it for free.For. Free.So I’d just run three miles on the treadmill, showered, and brushed my teeth, which left me more than ready for part two of my amazing day.

As I walked down the hall, the elevator doors started to close.

“Wait!” I yelled, just in case someone was listening and wanted to be nice. I expected nothing, so when a hand reached out and stopped the doors, I very nearly squealed with delight.

Could the daygetany better?

“Thank you,” I sang as I ran over and hopped into the elevator.

“No problem,” the person inside said. “What fl—”

“Oh. My. God.” I stared at the guy and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Mr. Chest from Scooter’s. Inmyelevator. I think my mouth was once again hanging open in his presence as I breathlessly managed to form the words “It’syou.”

He was still wearing his fancy suit, but the tips of his hair were wet, like he’d just showered, and I could smell his soap. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him, but then his mouth turned up into one of those toe-curling, genuinely happy smiles that always bumped an exceptionally handsome man right up to a work of art. He said in that ridiculously deep voice, “Talk about your small world.”

The elevator doors slid closed, and he gestured with his thumb to the floor buttons.

“Oh. Yeah. Lobby, please,” I said, even though I was so shocked I could barely remember how to language. All morning, I’d been forcing myselfnotto think about Mr. Chest, because not only did I need to focus on the new job, but also there was no way in hell a Scooter’s meet-cute would ever pan out into something real.

But now, here he was.

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