Winging it with My Ex (Meet-Cute Match-Ups #1)
Chapter 1
one
. . .
hadley
“No. Absolutely not.” I blink.
Vivian Rogers is my best friend and Briarwood Bobcats’ Media Relations Manager. Usually, I’m her biggest fan, but right now, I want her to take a long walk off a short pier.
“I’m not working with Jett Monroe.” I jerk my desk drawer open, rummaging for a distraction.
She cornered me at school, mid-workday, knowing I’d bolt if she showed up at my house. I’d fake amnesia, stage a fever, anything to escape this nightmare.
“First, the superintendent has already agreed to it. Second, the high school needs this.” She huffs, adjusting her glasses. “And what are you doing?”
“Looking for a rusty fork.”
“Okay, that’s not nice.”
“Fine, then I’ll stab myself…”
She ughs. Ughs. As if I’m the one being unreasonable. She’s not the one forced to face the guy who shattered her heart.
“Hadley Whitaker. Seriously, girl, it’s been what? Fifteen years?”
“Fifteen years, five weeks, and three and half days,” The words slip out before I can stop them. I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut, praying I only thought them.
As my luck trend would have it, I have indeed said all of that out loud. I open my eyes to find Vivian with her glasses tugged down a fraction, looking at me. “Okay, Grandma, go give ‘the look’ to someone else.”
“Rude.” She pushes her glasses up. “Besides, this wasn’t my idea. I’m just the messenger.”
I glare. I’m the principal. I should have known before Vivi. “Why? Because they thought you could deliver the news in a way that would make it magically better?” I frown. “If not you, how did the superintendent even put this together? Metcalf doesn’t know anyone on the team.”
School starts in a week. A week.
“Uh…” She grimaces.
“Who, Vivian—” The sentence dies on my lips. My body goes liquid, heart racing so fast I might need a medic. “Jett,” I croak. My mouth is dry.
The spell breaks when he saunters in, flashing that infuriating smile he knows works on me. Or used to. Jerk. Double jerk. My shock morphs into fury, and I’m out of my chair before I can think. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” he says, all sexy swagger. “I mean, I’m volunteering. Can’t really coach the Icebreakers without showing up.”
“You totally can coach them and never darken my door again. The rink is on the opposite side of the school, and you can stay there!” I’m seething. He dumped me the day we graduated… after months of promising forever.
And by text.
Just buh-bye. Gotta follow my heart and take a chance with my career.
His gaze flits from me to Vivian, and my traitorous best friend smiles like he’s got a dozen donuts. “Hey Jett.” She pushes out of her chair, standing to hug him. “Long time, no see.”
“You’re looking as hot as ever.”
She waves him off, but her cheeks are so red they might as well be Washington apples. “Oh, you flirt.”
“Hey, gotta call ‘em like I see ‘em.” His gaze lands on me again. “Skates…”
I round the desk, and I’m in his face faster than he can hit a puck. “Don’t you ever call me Skates again. You lost that right.”
Holy jalapenos, he smells good—woodsy and crisp. Wow. He’s filled out too with muscles I don’t remember him having. Taller, broader shoulders, thicker, more defined arms… and those intense blue eyes that always seemed to pull me in… Nope! Not thinking about it.
His lips quirk up on one side. Jerky flirt. I wag my finger at him. “We are not friends. You got it?”
Then he does the unthinkable.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug so tight my breath catches. His lips are dangerously close to the spot that I always loved him kissing. “I’ve missed you, Skates.”
When did his breath get so warm and minty? When did my insides decide to betray me and liquefy again? He broke my heart all the way down to my gallbladder. Doesn’t it remember that?
I push away. “Jett…”
“Look, I know we have a history—”
A history? The fire ignites again, and it’s volcanic. “You’re right. We do, and it’s staying that way.” I take a step back, cross my arms over my chest, and pinch my lips together. “You and I aren’t friends. We’re barely co-workers. You do your volunteer work… and leave me out of it.”
I retreat to my desk, sinking into my chair, and flick my gaze up to his silhouette filling my doorway. “You’re dismissed.”