Chapter 2
If there is a Guinness World Record for the world’s biggest idiot, I’d gladly accept the title.
I rub my eyes as if I can magically erase the memory of what I did last night. Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up with wizarding powers, and the vision is still seared in my brain.
I may as well wait for the Easter Island heads from Night at the Museum to show up and call me a dum-dum. It’s not like I don’t deserve it.
My only defense is that I thought her family sounded so professional while caroling that they sang to collect donations for charitable causes.
I understand now how that logic wasn’t logicing.
But I was so wrapped up in the beautiful woman in front of me that I couldn’t focus on anything besides her eyes—like looking into her cup before dropping a handful of change into it.
I feel awful that I burned her hands. Hopefully, the snow I pressed on them was enough to help. And I pray that the hot chocolate I’m buying her today will make up for everything.
My fingers pull at the bottom of my bomber jacket as I wait for her to arrive. I glance at my watch—it’s 1:12. Maybe she’s standing me up.
I suppose I deserve that after burning her.
The bell above the door chimes, and my head whips in that direction.
Nothing can hold back the smile on my face as I watch her walk in.
There’s a slight flush on her cheeks, and her soft curls are tousled, both evidence of the harsh winter wind.
But I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful or captivating than her.
She spots me and lifts her hand in a small wave before making her way to me at the table near the register. “Sorry that I’m late. Linda hates the snow, so I had to wait for my friend to drop me off.”
“It’s not a problem.” I smile good-naturedly. “Dare I ask who Linda is?”
She shakes her head, sending her wild waves fluttering around her face. “Linda’s my car.”
“You named your car Linda?”
“Yeah, because she never listens.” Her lip quirks up at the corner, and her eyes take on a playful glint.
I stare at her blankly. Am I missing some kind of joke?
Her mouth falls open. “You’ve never seen the ‘Listen Linda’ video?” When I shake my head, she pulls out her phone. “It has millions of views—you have to see it.”
She passes me her phone, and I watch a video of a young boy telling his mom—Linda—to listen. I laugh, handing her phone back as a 10 percent battery warning pops up.
“Do you see why I named her Linda now? I adore my girl, but she loves to not work at the most inopportune times, even when I sweet-talk her.”
I chuckle. “You sweet-talk your car?”
“You don’t?” She raises a brow.
“I can’t say I ever have.” I run my hands across my stubbled chin. “But I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
When we reach the counter, I gesture for her to talk to the cashier, but she steps to the side. “Order for me, Griffie?” The playfulness in her tone mixed with the steely look in her eye only pulls me further into her orbit.
I can already feel the power this girl has over me, and I’m in trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.
“Of course,” I grunt, sounding like some kind of caveman.
Who even am I? Next thing I know, I’ll be pounding my chest and throwing her over my shoulder as I carry her to a table.
Turning to the cashier, I say, “We’ll take your hot chocolate flight and one signature hot chocolate, please. ” I give them my name and pay.
“A hot chocolate flight?” Her eyes are wide with excitement as we walk to a table near the window and settle into our seats.
“I figured, why buy you two hot chocolates when I can buy you four?”
She grins. “You’re really trying to make up for yesterday.”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I try not to make a habit out of ruining a beautiful woman’s drink, let alone burning her hands.”
“I don’t make a habit of meeting strangers for hot chocolate.”
“I wouldn’t classify us as strangers.” I lean forward on my elbows and get lost in her brown eyes.
They’re light, like hot chocolate with the perfect amount of milk.
In a word, they’re stunning. That, plus her brown hair that falls past her shoulders in wild waves is the perfect combination—my kryptonite.
“What would you classify us as, then?” She runs her fingers through her hair.
“I’d say you’re someone I’d love to get to know.”
She dips her head as her cheeks turn the same shade of pink as the sweater she’s wearing.
I hardly know anything about this gorgeous woman—I don’t even know her name—but I do know that I want to learn everything about her, and that’s more than I’ve ever been able to say about girls in the past.
I live a fast-paced lifestyle, and I have big dreams. I’m used to meeting a lot of women in my day-to-day life, but I’ve never really invested in getting to know them when I know that I’ll be on my way to the next thing soon enough.
But there’s something about this woman sitting across from me that has me wanting to cancel all my plans just to stare into her eyes and count each of the freckles that lightly dust her cheeks.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Hence why I want to get to know you. I—”
“Griffin.” A barista calls my name from the counter.
I smile. “I’ll be right back.” Pushing up from my seat, I head to the counter, carefully balancing her hot chocolate flight in one hand and my mug in the other.
I set the board of drinks in front of her and warm my hands with my own mug as I sit across from her. “Prepare to be amazed.”
She takes a small sip from each miniature mug in front of her, maintaining a poker face.
When she sets the last mug down, I lean closer. “Well, what do you think?”
She stares me down until her eyes begin to sparkle with mirth. “You were right. Nothing can beat this hot chocolate.”
I blow out a puff of air in relief and take a sip from my mug. “Which flavor is your favorite?”
“Snickerdoodle. No contest. The white chocolate with the cinnamon notes is literal perfection.”
I set my cup down and smile at her. “I’ll be right back.”
After purchasing a large mug of the snickerdoodle hot chocolate, I return to our table, setting it in front of her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She leans forward and inhales with a soft smile on her lips. “But thank you.”
“I said I would buy you two cups—I’m only holding up my end of the bargain.”
And I want to make her happy. Being the reason this woman wears a smile on her face is my new favorite thing.
I lean back and take another sip of my drink. “You want to know something utterly devastating?” I continue before she can tell me no. “I know your car’s name but not yours.”
“Oh.” She laughs and extends her hand. “I’m Mallory.”
I take her hand—loving how it fits in mine—and give it a gentle shake. “Mallory,” I echo. The name feels fitting for her. The sound of it coming from my lips sends a shiver up my spine, a feeling I can’t shake that we were meant to meet.
Call it divine intervention. Kismet. Fate. But I know that, somehow, we were both exactly where we were supposed to be yesterday.
She raises a brow. “Your name is Mallory, too?” Her expression remains neutral, but the twitch of her mouth gives her away. Taking on a Southern accent, she says, “I don’t think this town is big enough for the both of us.”
I grin. “I like your sense of humor.” I give her hand a soft squeeze before releasing it. “I’m Griffin, but you already knew that.”
“I think I prefer your grandmother’s nickname for you.”
I chuckle. “She’s called me that since I was a kid. It doesn’t exactly sound manly now that I’m an adult, but I could never tell her no.”
Not that she’d listen to me, anyway.
“So, tell me something I don’t know about you, Mallory.”
“You mean everything?” She smirks. “Unless you’re a creepy stalker who already knows everything about me.”
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up. “You’re the one who showed up at my doorstep, remember? How do I know you aren’t stalking me?” I shoot her my million-watt smile—at least, that’s what my granny calls it.
Mallory hides her smile behind her mug, taking a sip of her drink. “Touché, Griffie.” When she sets the glass back on the table, a ghost of a smile is still on her lips. “Let’s see, I’m close with my family.”
“I like them. They seemed very enthusiastic.” I smirk at the memory of their caroling performance last night.
Mallory shoots me a skeptical look. “Okay, are you actually stalking me? How do you know…”
“I saw them last night.” She still stares blankly at me like she has no idea what I’m talking about. “You know…” I shimmy my shoulders. “Fa-la-la.”
“Oh, that’s my friend Daisy’s family. I’m staying with them until the snow lets up and I can get back home.”
My shoulders fall. “You’re not from around here?” That doesn’t bode well for my plans to get to know the beautiful woman across from me.
She shakes her head. “I’m from Louisville, Kentucky.”
“What brings you to Knoxville?”
“I’m a senior at UT.”
If she started college right after graduating high school, that should only make her two or three years younger than me.
“What are you studying?” I ask.
“Early childhood education.” My brows lift, and she tilts her head. “Why the face?”
“You’re not like any of the teachers I had in elementary school.”
“I’m not sure if I should feel insulted or—”
“It’s a compliment, trust me.” My lips pull up at one corner in a crooked smile. “I would’ve had a major crush on my teachers back then if they looked anything like you.”
“Thanks, I think?” She shakes her head before narrowing her eyes. “What do you do, Mr. Hotshot?” Before I can answer, she holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Wait, let me guess. You’re a lion tamer in the circus.”
“It can feel like all eyes are on me in my job, but no.”
“All eyes on you...” She takes a sip of her drink and then taps her full bottom lip, making my heart rate spike. “Are you an ophthalmologist?”
“I love your deductive reasoning there, but you’re moving in the wrong direction.”
“Marketing manager?”
I shake my head. “I did go to business school, but that’s not it either.”
Mallory purses her lips and looks out the window for a heartbeat. When she looks back at me, her eyes are alight. “I know! You’re a face painter at kids’ birthday parties.”
“You’re getting closer with the entertainment industry.”
She sighs. “I give up. What do you do?”
“I’m an actor.”
“I should’ve known.” Mallory taps her pink nails on her mug. “Would I recognize you from anything?”
I rub my hands on my jeans. It always feels a little awkward talking about my dream career, especially when I’ve been trying—and failing—for years to achieve it.
Unless holding up a tube of toothpaste, saying, “You handle the razzle, we’ll bring the dazzle.
Dazzle the world with your smile when you use DazzlePaste” in a commercial counts as my Hollywood debut.
Yeah…didn’t think so.
“No.” I clear my throat. “But I have an audition tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“A romantic comedy movie. They want an unknown actor. I’ve been trying to catch my big break for a while now, so I hope this will be it. Honestly, I’m just grateful for every opportunity to audition. Each one gives me motivation to grow my craft.”
Mallory leans back in her seat, looking impressed. “I’m more of a fantasy girl myself, but I hope you get it.”
Her honesty is as refreshing as an ice-cold glass of lemonade on a summer day. “That’s my dream role. Being the lead in a fantasy movie would be epic, but I’ll take anything that gets me into the industry.”
She lifts her mug into the air. “To getting your dream role one day.”
I clink my mug with hers. “To one day,” I echo. “Is being an elementary school teacher your dream job?”
Mallory nods. “Although I think I’d enjoy any job where I get to help teach and grow the next generation.”
“It’s one of the most noble and important professions.”
“People say that kids are brutally honest, but I like it.”
“Something tells me you’re pretty blunt, yourself.”
She shrugs. “Sounds like you’ve already got me pegged.”
I might know snippets about the beautiful woman in front of me, but there’s so much more I want to know.
It seems cruel that I’m meeting her when I’m on the cusp of my big break into the industry, something I’ve been working toward for years.
But if I land that role, I can cross that bridge when I come to it.
For now, I only hope that Mallory gives me the time of day to learn everything that makes her who she is.