Messy Match (The Heat of the Moment #4)

1. Charlotte

Chapter one

Charlotte

I glance at the clock on the register for the fifth time in as many minutes, but it’s only one forty-seven p.m. Thirteen minutes until he’s supposed 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 notices everything . 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 the vicinity. 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 not never. 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 been waaaay too 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 Eve episode that 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 laptops with 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. “ You have 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 like everyone .” 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 on The One this 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.”

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 more than 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 for Top 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 with that for 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.”

“He could rub you the right—” Amber starts, nudging Nora in the side and slinging her a wicked grin.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I warn, grabbing the hanging garment bag and my rolling suitcase from where I stashed them in the stockroom this morning. And I head for the door without making Jake a drink. Two can play this game. And he can get his caffeine fix somewhere else.