Chapter 2
Daisy
My dress pants itch at the waist, and the silk tank sticks to my skin. I pinch the fabric and stretch it, then shift it in and out like a fan.
It’s mid-morning, and the Java Mama’s overhead fans aren’t compensating for the absence of air conditioning. The sign on the open shop door read, “A/C’s busted. Getting it fixed. Try the iced coffee!”
Based on the line I’m standing in, the sign did nothing to dissuade the caffeine addicted, of which I am one. Like the others in line, I peruse my phone, and finding nothing of interest, click on my horoscope app.
Virgo - Today’s Forecast: “A significant new opportunity presents itself, but appearances may be deceiving. Trust your analytical nature when others seem too eager to please. A mysterious figure from your past influences current events more than you realize. In matters of the heart, an unexpected connection could challenge your carefully constructed walls. Financial temptation clouds your judgment—remember that the most expensive choices aren’t always the wisest ones. Lucky numbers: 3, 17, 29.”
I roll my eyes and close the app. Horoscopes aren’t science, but I still love them anyway—because at least the stars don’t abandon you without warning.
The television hanging precariously in the far corner, an old model with a rectangular body, shows the outside of Sterling Financial on the screen.
Since there’s no camera crew down the street, the footage is stock or this news segment was pre-recorded.
A woman in line nudges the man beside her.
The volume is off, but the caption reads “Cryptocurrency Revolution.”
Revolution. Right. Like calling a system crash a “feature update.”
My phone lights up, and I adjust my suit coat over my arm to better type a response. I prefer dictation, but I’m in a crowded coffee shop and I’m not rude.
Rhodes
HR called.
U told them I’m the best you’ve ever had? Right?
Rhodes
I don’t like this.
Read the room. Not your call.
Rhodes
Understood. Therefore I confirmed your fictional employment dates.
“Ma’am? How can I help you?” The bandana wrapped around the woman’s head is soaked on the edges, and red curls and flyaways flutter under the fan’s breeze. I go to slide my phone into my back pocket, only to remember I don’t have a back pocket because I’m in uncomfortable suit pants.
“I’ll take an iced vanilla coffee and…” I lean back to scan the picked over glass cabinet of baked goods. “A croissant.”
“And I’ll take an iced tea, sweet, and a banana.”
A muscular hand with light scars over the knuckles and a braided leather bracelet enters my peripheral vision, holding a credit card.
Southern twang? Buying my breakfast?
Really?
I twist to confirm, that yes, it’s Jake Ryder, the beefy, gun wielding, GI Joe-type who played live action Captain America last weekend then stood around joking while cops swarmed around us.
I spoke with him long enough to know he doesn’t live around here, which means I’ve a good idea why he’s in the coffee shop.
“I’ve got it,” Jake says, his tee stretched taut over broad shoulders and biceps.
“You always wear your T-shirts one size too small?”
His half-chuckle morphs into a wide grin as he hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, which only makes the cotton stretch tighter.
The tee’s doing overtime across linebacker shoulders and gym-rat pecs. Beard’s wilder than I remember—sun-caught gold at the ends. Hair pushed back by sunglasses: dark roots into accidental caramel. If he were even a little precious I’d blame a colorist. He’s not. Nature did that.
“If you’d like to cop a feel...” He bends his elbow, flexing his bicep into a mound.
Tempting, but I crinkle my nose in feigned disgust, fighting a smile. “Keep dreaming, GI Joe.”
His grin says he digs my joke, but it’s the eyes that catch me.
An unusual green that I must not have noticed that day in the warehouse because he wore goggles and shades later when we were outside.
Or maybe it’s because way too much was going on that day for me to notice something like eye color. There’s always that possibility.
“Whatever you say, shortcake.” I make a show of rolling my eyes, but his dig fits seeing as I’m about half his size.
We step to the side to make room for the patrons behind us while we wait for our orders.
“Rhodes sent you, didn’t he?”
My boss is a good guy. Having been through maybe a dozen employers before finding one who didn’t piss me off daily, I appreciate Rhodes MacMillan. Over the years, he’s been a good friend, but the whole protective big brother routine gets old. He doesn’t know when to back off.
“Better safe than sorry.” Jake reaches across the counter to take his drink.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“I’m parked down the street. Saw you enter.”
I retrieve my coffee while he sips his sweet tea and winces, then looks to the woman behind the counter and asks, “Where’s your sugar?”
I raise an eyebrow. I had their sweet tea yesterday and asked for half unsweet. He wants more sugar. Figures.
“What? They don’t make sweet tea right up here,” he says with a lazy smile.
Outside on the sidewalk there’s an open table, probably on account of the heat, but after collecting our food, I move to it so we’re not surrounded by people. I’m not sure exactly what Rhodes has hired him to do, but I have a pretty good idea.
What’s annoying is I told Rhodes no. But my annoyance is at Rhodes, not the guy who once fought for our country and then saved us last week.
Seconds later the warrior joins me, the chair grating the sidewalk as he pulls it out and flips it around, straddling it.
“No getting huffy. I won’t be in your way.” He spreads his hands in a gesture of innocence.
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, giving him a deliberate once-over. He sits perfectly still under my scrutiny, like he’s used to being evaluated. When I tap my fingers against my arm, his eyes track the movement.
The thing is, I don’t have an issue with Jake.
He’s a cool guy. I like him. When he’s decked in Kevlar and firing a gun, he’s the vision of an assassin avatar.
But when he’s kicked back chilling, there’s no off-putting ego.
He strikes me as a fun guy with zero tough guy macho bullshit.
But I don’t need protection. Rhodes, the ever-constant pain in my ass, is wasting his money.
“You’re wasting your time,” I say, going for honest and straightforward.
Jake’s gaze darts behind me.
“Ms. Jonas.”
My coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips. Behind my sunglasses, my eyes dart to Jake, who’s already pushing back from the table, his sunglasses also down, covering those green eyes and whatever he’s thinking, his loose hair tucked neatly behind each ear.
The legs of his chair scrape against concrete as he rises to his full height.
I force my expression neutral and turn toward the voice, but my free hand unconsciously moves to smooth my hair, as I’m dressed to meet with the company-hired realtor, but not necessarily HR.
More importantly, Ms. Weaver, the human resources director who hired me, knows I’m not from the area, so how am I sitting outside at a cafe with a friend?
“I see you found my favorite coffee shop.” Ms. Weaver extends her hand to Jake. “I’m Lillian Weaver. I work with Sterling Financial.”
Jake, as affable as ever, extends his hand with easy confidence. “Lillian, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jake Ryder. Daisy’s boyfriend.”
I nearly choke on my iced coffee. My hand jerks, sending a few water droplets splashing onto the table. Jake’s eyes flick to me for a split second—probably checking to see if I’m going to bust his lie.
Tempting, but I won’t, although after this woman walks away, I’ll need to set him straight and send him on his way.
Jake steps closer to my chair, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. The weight is warm and surprisingly steady. “Dropped by to support my girl.”
Under his palm, my muscles tense, but I somehow smile.
She beams down at me. “That is the sweetest thing. Starting a new job can be nerve-racking, but you’re going to do great.”
“She is. You’re lucky to have her.” The way he’s looking at me, you’d think he’s madly in love. I should put him in touch with Mom’s agent. Combined with his looks, acting is in this man’s future.
“I was just telling Daisy that I know she’s going to do great. It doesn’t take much for people to recognize her talent. She gets nervous, you know, but she’s going to blow you away.”
Ms. HR peers down at me, smiling like she’s my mom. My guess is based on her hands and the skin along her throat, she might be old enough to be my mom. However, the wrinkle-free, suited woman with perfectly coiffed hair and makeup, tasteful jewelry, and zero tattoos is definitely not my mom.
“Oh, I expect she will. I suppose there’s no harm in sharing, but your reference had nothing but wonderful things to say. Tomorrow’s your first day, right?” She scans my business-casual outfit like that’s the reason she’s verifying.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m meeting with a realtor this afternoon.”
“Good luck.” The way she says that sounds like she expects I’ll need it, but we’re in the suburbs. How hard could finding a place be? “I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your day.”
She enters the coffee shop, but since the doors are wide open on account of there being no air conditioning, I count to three, then slowly turn my glare on Jake. Without breaking eye contact, I gather my croissant and coffee with deliberate movements, like I’m planning a cyberattack.
Jake’s hands go up in surrender, but he’s still grinning. “Now hold on—”
I don't let him finish. Standing abruptly, I stride toward my hotel with Jake’s longer steps easily matching my pace. Once we’re a safe distance from Java Mama, I whip around to face him.
“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy.” His voice comes from right beside me, not even slightly winded.