Page 1 of Messy Match

Chapter one

Charlotte

Iglanceattheclockon the register for the fifth time in as many minutes, but it’s only one forty-seven p.m. Thirteen minutes untilhe’ssupposed to be here to pick me up. The guy who’s saddled with giving me a ride to Vermont for my brother’s destination wedding this weekend. No doubt, it’s a best man chore he tried to weasel out of.

But he’ll be late, of course. I’d bet good money on it. Jake is never early and rarely on time. It’s part of his grand scheme to make you think he doesn’t care when, in fact, he does.

Jake Maddingly might pretend to be an untroubled ladies’ man, all easy smiles and flirtatious charm, as if it’s an inherent part of his firefighter hero persona, but the playboy doesn’t fool me. The well-built member of New York’s bravest is observant in a devil-may-care kind of way.

He’s the kind of guy who pretends not to pay a lick of attention when really, he noticeseverything. And then, he’ll use every nugget he’s gleaned to his advantage to get what he wants. Usually between the legs of the most attractive woman in thevicinity. And, all too often, they’re more than willing to jump in the sack after one look at his physique. And especially after the baby-face shoots them his famous photogenic smile.

Except, I’ve never been willing. Well, maybe notnever.There was a sliver of time, after we first met, when I was well down the path of falling for his golden curls and mellow appeal. Jake seemed to be a rare specimen in this city—a man who takes his time. One who enjoys leisurely pleasure and unhurried indulgence. Which was an appealing novelty. Until he swooped to my “rescue,” and I came to my senses, which is the reason we’ve been at odds ever since.

That and because I’m just like Jake in a lot of ways. Well, not the famous smile. And not the ‘jumping into bed with the closest man’ thing, although heaven knows it’s beenwaaaaytoo long since I’ve had a decent orgasm, let alone a toe-curling, sheet-twisting, throat-sore-afterwards kind of one. And, okay, I tend to run at one speed—whirlwind. But I’m observant, too, which is how I clocked my brother’s best friend from the start.

And I have the advantage. The upper hand, if you will. Because Jake doesn’t realize how similar we are. Nope, he underestimated me from the jump. From that first fateful night we met. The New Year’s Eveepisodethat set the tone for every single snarky interaction since then. And now? I just need to get through the rest of my shift, so I can pop in my headphones and ignore him for the three-hundred mile drive to Vermont. Just as I’m sure he’s planning to pretend I’m not sitting inches away in the passenger seat.

My tank top is plastered to my skin as I wipe down the counter at The Daily Grind for the hundredth time since I tied on my apron at five o’clock this morning. The bright afternoon sun streams in through the wall of windows that lines Seventy-Second Street, making the AC work overtime. The temperature is cool enough for the customers grinding away at their laptopswith noise-canceling headphones. Or those who linger, sipping iced lattes while chatting with friends. But for the three of us baristas on our feet, pulling shots of espresso and steaming milk for the die-hard hot-drink-even-though-it’s-nearly-ninety-in-the-city customers, it’s nowhere close to strong enough.

Thanks to a rare afternoon lull, Amber’s restocking the pastry case, while Nora, the newbie, wrestles with the temperamental espresso machine we affectionately call Frank, cursing under her breath. I suppress a smile, remembering my own battles with that beast when I first started, and glance toward the door.

“Ready to hit the road?” Amber, my work bestie, asks, rearranging the remaining muffins. “The drive’s what? Three hours?”

“Four,” I reply, wrinkling my nose. “And if I could be there already, I would, believe me.”

“Not a fan of road trips?” Nora asks, releasing a blast of steam from the wand.

Amber pulls an empty tray from the case, careful not to spill the crumbs. “Charlotte’s not a fan of Jake.”

“Jake?”

“My ride.”

“Not just her ride,” Amber says, closing up the case. “Her nemesis.”

Nora spins to face me, her eyes wide. “Youhave a nemesis? How could anyone not like you? You’re like the nicest person I know. All the customers adore you and—”

“Let’s just say Jake isn’t likeeveryone.” I drop the towel back in the red sanitizer bucket under the counter. “But, it’s fine. Once we get to the resort, I’ll be able to avoid him. I mean, the lodge is huge, and the grounds are like hundreds of lush green mountain acres. There’s a gorgeous infinity pool, a golf course, a disc golf course, hiking trails and even multiple hot tubs.”

“They’re both in the wedding party,” Amber interjects as if to imply we’d have to be joined at the hip the entire long weekend.

“So we’ll have to pretend to tolerate each other more than usual," I reply with a shrug.

“The only two single people in the wedding party,” Amber adds in a singsong voice.

“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.

Before she can continue to insinuate the inconceivable, the front door swings open. And, just like clockwork, Lily, the PA for the surly billionaire who owns the building that rises sixty-four stories above this Upper West Side location of our coffee chain, drops in. She’s here to pick up said CEO’s daily afternoon double espresso with a splash of unsweetened almond milk.

I reach for a paper cup and jot down the order on the side with a marker since Nora has yet to memorize it.

“Rough day?” I ask Lily, glad for the interruption as I flash a kind smile at her frazzled expression.

“A deal went south, and his fuse is shorter than ever.” Her phone dings with an incoming text, and she frowns at the screen. “He seriously needs to take a vacation. Either that or get laid.”

“Speaking of getting laid, any luck onThe Onethis week?” Lily’s attempts at online dating have been a source of conversation for weeks now. The redhead with a splash of freckles hasn’t had much luck, despite having a killer profile on the most popular dating app in the city. But I’ve got to give it to her. At least, she’s putting herself out there. On the other hand, I’m sticking to the story I’m too busy with my Broadway auditions to date. Which I wish was actually true.

Lily shakes her head. “Not a promising match in sight.”

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