Page 36 of Square Deal

“Tequila.” I winked.

“Next!” The girl behind the counter shouted. I hurried up to the counter to place my order. “Miss Hannah Jane,” the barista smiled. “You want your usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to where Tucker had sided up to me in front of the register.

If he offered to pay for my drink… It would be like my entire coffee shop scene coming to life.

Kismet.

Serendipity.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Tucker said from beside me as he handed over his debit card.

He paid.

He quoted the line fromWhen Harry Met Sally.

He flashed me a heart-stopping grin. Lights and sirens blared in my mind. Fireworks went off. There was a full-blown parade and a marching band stomping through my heart. Confetti and ticker tape exploded across my eyes.

“Actually, your drink is already paid for, Miss Hayes,” the barista said.

Record screech.

“Excuse me?”

The barista nodded and plucked a business card out of her apron. “A gentleman stopped by yesterday morning and left a card on file to cover your drinks. He said to give you this,” she said, handing the business card over and taking Tucker’s debit card to swipe for his drink.

I pocketed the black business card without even looking at it. I had a hunch I already knew who was behind this little stunt.

“That was nice,” Tucker said as we stepped aside and waited for our drinks to come out.

I pursed my lips and forced an indifferent, “Mhmm.”

“Your boss put a company card on file or something?”

“Or something,” I said, forcing a smile.

Tucker gave me a wary look, and I couldn’t blame him. He grabbed both coffee cups off the counter and handed me one of them. “Maybe I’ll see you around whenever I’m back in town,” he offered politely.

I smiled softly.

Always be poised and gracious, Hannah Jane. My mother’s voice was my unfortunate inner-monologue.

“That sounds lovely. Nice meeting you, Tucker.” I waited until he was out the door before pulling the business card out of my coat pocket.

I was going to kill Isaac Lawson.

When I got into work, I threw my handbag onto the coat rack, yanked off my overcoat, sank down into my desk chair, and slammed my latte on my desk.

That stupid, egotistical, jackass, overstepping, inconsiderate—the phone call connected, and I hissed, “You.”

“Who’s it?” Isaac mumbled. There was a yawn from his end of the line.

“You motherfucking cockblocker!” I shouted. “You ruined my perfect meet-cute, you asshole!”

Isaac chuckled, and I heard the rustle of sheets.

“I swear if you’re hooking up with some airheaded socialite while I can’t even get a fucking date because you’re paying for my coffee, I will end you, Lawson!”

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