Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
JADE
“I couldn’t look away as he manipulated the clay with his fingertips, sculpting perfection. Julian Hart has the hands of a God.” - Clara Foss, Painted Inferno
My face scrunches as I pull my drink away from my mouth. I don’t know what they put in it, but it tastes like shit. Maybe they changed their syrups because I order the same thing every time and it has never tasted this bad.
Setting it down on the table, I prop my elbow, dropping my chin down onto it as I flip open the notebook with my other hand.
A blank page stares back at me. A shiver of intimidation rolls down my spine.
This is the worst part of the process for me lately.
Coming up with an idea that is going to stick. I click my pen.
A blank page is a new beginning.
I hate new beginnings.
My hand falls away from my chin and I sit there, one hand wrapped around my coffee and the other clutching my pen like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat. I have to come up with something. I need the story of a lifetime to save my career at this point.
If I can’t follow through, I’m screwed. Maybe it’s time to hang up my writer hat and find a different job.
Thankfully, if there’s one good thing my parents taught me, it was to be smart with my money.
I don’t live beyond my means and after receiving the seven-figure advances I have in the past, I made sure to invest a large portion of it.
My degree in English Lit might not get me far, but at this point, anything sounds better than writing. I’m not too young to go back to grad school. I could become a teacher or a professor.
I need to stop stalling. I need to get some ideas down on paper. If there’s one thing everyone should know about me, it’s that Jade Wilson is not a quitter. The publisher asked for my agent and me to come up with an idea. I’ve stretched my time as thin as I possibly could.
Get your head out of your ass, Jade. All you have to do is write.
The tip of my pen scratches across the paper. Short and sweet. I smile as I read the two little words: Fuck this.
“Jade.”
A deep voice calls out my name, immediately pulling my attention away from my notepad. Confusion floods me, my face scrunching as I glance in the direction it came from.
“Jade?”
This time it’s a bit louder, sounding more like a question. My stomach flips and my heart races. The coffee shop is still filled with customers and I have no idea who’s calling my name.
I slowly rise to my feet. “Yeah?” I look in the direction of the voice and that’s when I see him.
His gray blue eyes meet mine from across the room and a slow grin lifts the corners of his lips.
My heart skips a beat, but I ignore the fluttering sensation.
It’s just a byproduct from the anxiety of hearing my name being called out.
His stride is long as he closes the distance between us. Confidence radiates from him, rolling off him in waves as he walks through the shop. I swear to God, not only do the women glance in his direction, but so do the men.
Who the hell is this guy?
He stops on the other side of my table, his right hand wrapped around a coffee cup and the left grabbing onto the back of the wooden chair. “Jade?”
My name sounds like it’s exactly where it belongs, rolling off his tongue like he’s tasting it.
Jesus Christ, what is my problem?
It has to be the fact that I’ve been abstinent for the last year.
“Hi,” I say softly, my brain momentarily short circuiting so the sound comes out more like a whisper. I tilt my head to the side, my eyes bouncing between his. “You know my name?”
A soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. He leans forward, the tendons in his hands flexing as he sets down the cup and spins it to face me. His eyes flick to mine and back to the coffee as he taps the tag on the side. “I think you have my drink.”
Heat immediately spreads across my face. My mouth falls open and I quickly spin the other cup to check its tag. “Matty?”
“That would be me.” He smiles, his expression warm as his eyes meet mine once more.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush, shaking my head as I silently beg for the floor to open beneath me.
I would accidentally grab the wrong cup.
And not just the wrong cup, but the one that was supposed to go to the hottest guy in this coffee shop.
“I don’t know how I managed to get my name and yours confused. ”
A smirk tugs on his lips. “Guess you were just thinking of me before I gave you a reason to.”
My stomach flutters while it simultaneously sinks. I’m not immune to banter, but at the same time—ugh. There’s nothing more unattractive to me than a man who confuses his cockiness with confidence.
“Yeah, I don’t think that was it.” I shake my head at him, my expression flat. “I have a lot on my mind. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No worries,” he says, shrugging with indifference as he takes his cup. My eyes are trained on him, slowly widening as he doesn’t stop lifting the cup until it’s to his lips. He tilts it back, taking a sip of the sickeningly sweet, piping hot liquid.
“What are you doing?” I’m momentarily horrified and equally intrigued by whatever might be wrong with this guy. “Why are you drinking that?”
His movements are slow, his throat bobbing as he swallows. His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Um, because I already drank out of it?”
His eyes slowly search mine. “Still not understanding the problem, Sunny.”
Sunny?
“I’m a complete stranger who drank out of your drink.” I stare back at him in disbelief. How is he still not getting it? Ugh, he’s attractive and ignorant. The worst combination. “How do you know I don’t have some kind of sickness or disease?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Well, do you?”
“No.” My face contorts and I shake my head, huffing out a frustrated breath. “That’s besides the point.”
He stares at me, his expression giving nothing away before his face cracks.
His head tilts back, and his chest shakes with laughter.
And fuck me for loving the way it sounds.
Completely and utterly free. “Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“I like you,” he chuckles as he looks back at me. “Can I sit?”
“Uh—” What the hell is happening? “Sure?”
Matty drags the chair back, the feet groaning across the floor. He’s unfazed by the sound and takes a seat across from me. “Getting your cooties is the least of my worries right now,” he chuckles, leaning against the back of the chair as he takes another sip of his drink.
I reach forward, grabbing mine before I bring it up to my lips. I pause, my eyes still on him. “Did you drink out of mine?”
“No, Sunny,” he says, rolling his eyes, exaggerating his new name for me. His dark hair’s a bit longer on the top, falling just above his eyebrows in tousled waves. It shifts as he shakes his head. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. “Even if I did, I don’t have cooties either.”
“Good to know,” I mumble, tearing my gaze from his as I take a slow sip. The bitter liquid hits my tongue and I immediately thank the coffee gods. This is exactly what I was searching for, not an abomination of sugar and caramel like whatever it is he’s drinking.
He’s silent across from me, but I feel the heat of his gaze as he scans my face, studying and assessing like he’ll be taking an exam on me tomorrow. “You come here often?”
I can’t help myself as I let out a laugh. “Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work for you.”
He doesn’t laugh. My breath catches in my throat as I meet his stare once more. “No, I mean I’ve never seen you here before. I come here almost every single day after I leave the rink and not once have we run into each other.”
The rink. He’s a hockey player. That explains the whole athletic look he’s got going on. I shrug. “I do come here often, just not normally this time of day.”
“Hmm,” he muses, lifting his cup to take another sip. “I guess we both have luck on our sides today.” He falls silent for a moment, his head nodding at my notepad. “What are you working on?”
I slide the notepad from the table, carefully closing it before I set it back down. “Are you always this…invasive?”
Matty smirks. “You have no idea how invasive I can be.”
Jesus Christ. I need to excuse myself from this table before I either clock him in the jaw or go home with him. Either feels like an acceptable response at this point.
“Look, Matty,” I start, my voice dropping lower. “I don’t know who you are or who you might think you are, but you’re more attractive with your mouth closed. You should learn to think before you speak.”
His eyes are on mine. A string of laughter escapes him, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “Don’t stop there, Sunny. Keep judging me when you don’t know a single thing about me.”
“What is actually wrong with you?”
“Probably a lot.” He shrugs, still chuckling. “I’ve taken quite a few hard hits during games.”
When he first said rink, that sent off a tiny alarm inside my head, but there’s the confirmation I needed.
“Hockey player is an immediate red flag.”
“Why?” He leans forward, folding his arms on top of one another, focusing on me. “You get hurt by one before?”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Something like that. It was a few years ago.”
“Would I know him?”
“Aiden Scott.”
A muscle in his jaw tightens. He takes a long, slow sip of his drink.
“Wait, you actually know him?”
“I do,” he says, dipping his chin and sucking in a deep breath. “He plays dirty, but acts like a baby whenever he gets a taste of his own medicine. Don’t care for the guy, honestly.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I laugh quietly. Aiden and I dated during his first two years in the league. We met through a mutual friend while I was still in college. I broke things off with him after pictures surfaced of him out with another girl in a different city. “You play for the Ice Hawks?”
Matty bites back a grin. “You really don’t like hockey, do you?” A soft laugh falls from his lips, sliding against my eardrums like silk. “I do. My real name’s Matteo Ford, but everyone calls me Matty.”
His name is familiar, even though his face isn’t. And trust me, he has a face that would be hard to forget. Aiden complained about him before, although I didn’t pay much attention to the things he said. Like Matty, there wasn’t enough space in the room for his ego.
“I’ve heard of you before.”
His face lights up. “Careful, Sunny. You’re gonna have me talking without thinking again.”
“Learn some self control,” I quip, rolling my eyes.
Amusement fills his eyes, his gaze scanning my face once more before he pushes his seat back and rises to his feet. “I enjoyed this. We should do it again. Same time and place next week?”
I tilt my head back, staring up at him as I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. “You wish.”
“Can I at least get your number?”
“Nope.” I lean back in my seat, looking up at him with the sweetest smile. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and see me here again.”
“Damn,” he breathes, the word barely audible. He lets out another soft chuckle, shaking his head. His expression is unreadable, but the curiosity in his eyes is impossible to ignore. “Okay. I will see you again. One way or another.”
“Are you always this arrogant?” I huff, arching an eyebrow.
“Not arrogant, just confident,” he says with a wink before leaving me alone at the table.
I can’t help myself as my eyes follow after him as he heads out of the coffee shop.
He pauses just outside the door, his gaze colliding with mine through the glass.
A slow, sure smirk lifts his lips before he walks away.
What the hell just happened?