Page 2 of Messy Match

Nora tamps down fresh grounds and chimes in from behind Frank. “Surely, someone perfect will surface soon. And hopefully, someone for Mr. Grumpy upstairs, too.”

“Oh please,” Lily laughs, resting a hip against the counter. “Can you imagine his dating profile?Emotionally unavailable CEO with impossibly high standards and zero patience for small talk.But, then again, he’s hot if you like a stern daddy type. And of course, he’s rich as fuck and as fit as a twenty-year-old, both of which help. If you don’t mind navigating a man whose trust issues have trust issues.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh, grabbing the almond milk from the under-counter cooler. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to improv with me sometime? I’m telling you, you’d be great.”

“Not a chance,” Lily says as she does every time I try to convince her to try it. “You’re off to Vermont this weekend, right?”

“Any hour now.”

“I’m so jealous,” she says, with a sigh. “It’s supposed to hit ninety-five here this weekend. Plus, I love weddings.”

“I should have tapped you to be my plus one. You could have run interference.”

“Interference?”

“Charlotte needs a buffer between her and the best man,” Amber happily informs her. “Her brother’s best friend, who she’s had a beef with for years.”

“Why the beef?” Lily asks, as Nora tops off the cup with a touch of almond milk.

“Jake Maddingly is a man who thinks being hot and heroic gives him the right to sweep in and save the day, whether or not you want him to.”

“But isn’t he a firefighter?” Nora asks, her eyebrows pinching. “Isn’t saving people kind of his job?”

I grip the edge of the counter. “There’s a difference between rescuing a victim from a burning building and rushing in to save a woman, who’s not calling for help and who’s fully capable of taking care of herself.”

“And yet,” Amber drawls, handing Nora a lid, “Pretty Woman is Charlotte’s all-time favorite movie.”

“Julia Roberts’ performance is iconic,” I exclaim, swiping viciously at an imaginary crumb on the counter.

“Sure, it is.” Amber winks.

Ignoring these troublemakers, I snatch two large plastic cups from the stack and fill them with ice.

“Sounds like he cares,” Nora casually tosses out, her innocent observation hitting a little too close to home.

“Sounds like he needs to mind his own business,” I counter through gritted teeth, though the truth is, sometimes, I catch him watching me with an intensity that makes my whole body feel as if it’s on fire. I pull two shots of espresso, the ice cubes crackling as I pour the hot liquid over them.

Lily accepts her boss’s drink from Nora. “Thanks, hon. You’re the best.”

I finish an iced mocha for her and hand it over. “On the house.”

“No, please,” she insists. “Charge it to our account. And add a big tip for yourselves.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Amber says, stepping over to the register.

I finish whipping up an iced vanilla latte for the road. My fingers hover over another cup as I debate whether to make a drink for Jake, too. His actual standing order rather than one of the random drinks I tend to bring him at the station just to drive him up the wall. And so he doesn’t get the wrong idea and think I actually like him because I’ve included him in the station delivery. After all, I’ve got plenty of time before he shows up fashionably late, as usual.

Except a reflection through the window stops me cold. There he is, pulling up in a rental car. A whole seven minutes early. My stomach does a weird flip-flop thing I absolutely refuse to analyze. Jake Maddingly is early. Jake is never early. In the morethan two years I’ve known him, he’s never once been on time for anything, let alone early.

He sits for a long minute, doing who the hell knows what, his hands on the steering wheel. Finally, he climbs out from the driver’s side with aviator sunglasses perched on his nose as if he’s auditioning forTop Gun. I stand stock still.

“That’s him?” Nora’s mouth falls open as Lily lets out a low whistle. “You’re complaining about being stuck in a car withthatfor four hours?”

They exchange a look that says everything about exactly why Mr. March made the cut for the steamy firefighter charity calendar.

I barely register their reactions. I’m too caught up trying to figure out what game he’s playing. This has to be a game, right? Some new way to get under my skin by doing the complete opposite of what I expect. And damn him, because it’s working.

“Well, ladies,” I manage, untying my apron and blowing out a long breath, “time to put my acting skills to use. Three days ignoring the way Jake Maddingly rubs me the wrong way.”

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