Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ISABELLE
“One iced latte for Julie!” I call out, placing her coffee order on the pickup counter.
Julie steps forward, grabbing her order. “Thank you!”
I’ve spent the morning bouncing around—serving customers, making orders, and cleaning equipment—but I expect things to calm down a little now that the peak morning rush is over.
Aside from running my online small business, Designed by Isabelle—where I design and handmake women’s clothing—I also work part-time as a barista at The Daily Brew.
I launched my business two years ago, and I’m not at the stage yet where my profits are enough to support me full-time. I’ve lived in New York City my whole life, and to say the cost of living is high here is an understatement.
Balancing Designed by Isabelle and my barista job means lots of late nights to finish packing orders for my business, squeezing in time during my breaks at The Daily Brew to respond to customer emails and messages, and sacrificing most weekends out to stay home and make clothes.
But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Drawing, sewing, and designing—they’re my passions, and nothing fulfills me more than seeing my designs come to life or someone wearing an item of clothing I made.
My dream is that one day, I’ll get to do this full-time.
I serve a few more people and am done with my latest customer when the bell above the coffee shop door jingles and the door swings open.
A tall figure wearing a gray suit strolls inside and takes off his sunglasses, looking like he stepped straight out of a men’s fashion catalog.
I blink, but unfortunately, I’m not imagining things—or him.
It’s Jackson “the Jackass” Carter.
Only a few days have passed since our flight, and I wasn’t expecting to see him again, let alone so soon.
Jackson turns his head in my direction and immediately spots me, like there’s some strange magnetic pull between me and him.
He arches a perfectly groomed brow and pauses, as if he’s debating whether to stay or leave. I expect—and hope—he’ll choose the latter, but to my dismay, he joins the line of people waiting to make an order.
Just my luck.
Since when did Jackson even start drinking coffee? I thought he hated it, at least back in school. Something about how caffeine makes him lethargic.
When he reaches the front of the line, I purse my lips. “Did Satan send you here as his proxy?”
Jackson dusts off his jacket. “Well, hello and good morning to you, too, Isabella. Is this how you treat all your customers?”
“No.” I feign innocence. “Only the annoying ones. I have a list.”
A thoughtful expression sweeps across his face. “If you have that many annoying customers, it might be time to reflect on whether the customer service you’re providing is actually up to standard.”
I glare at him and fold my arms across my apron. For a millisecond, I think Jackson’s gaze dips lower, to my chest, before it darts back up again. “My customer service is excellent, thank you very much.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Prove it.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not proving anything to you, Jacky.”
“Sounds like someone’s giving in to defeat.”
“Fine,” I grumble. Unfortunately, Jackson doesn’t look like he’ll be leaving, and there’s no getting out of doing my job. “What can I get you? Make this quick.”
Jackson’s eyes meet mine. “That depends. What’s on the menu?”
“Hmm. Let’s see.” I pretend to rack my brain. “For today’s special, we have a flat white with a teaspoon of bland personality, a black coffee with a flavor of arrogance and cockiness on top, and an espresso with a shot of asshole. What would you like?”
“I’ll have the black coffee with a flavor of arrogance and cockiness on top,” he says, indifference bordering his voice.
“Suits you very much.” I tap the screen of the point-of-sale machine, taking his order. “For here or to go?”
“To go.” Jackson pauses for a moment, and there’s a glint in his eyes. “For here, actually.”
My scowl is instant. “You sure about that?”
I’d rather memorize all 118 elements of the periodic table than have Jackson stay here for a second longer than necessary.
Jackson leans forward and places his hands on the counter, his eyes locking with mine once more. I can smell his cologne—woodsy, reminding me of a mix of evergreen and pine. It’s surprisingly nice and fresh.
“Why? Does my presence threaten you? Hmm?”
I take a step back, widening the distance between us. “Threaten? No. Irritate? Yes.”
He plasters on a charismatic smile. “Your jaw looks a little tense, babe. You might want to get that checked out by a dentist.”
“Shall I bill the fees under your name then?” I sweetly ask, borrowing the line he said to me on the plane and ignoring the fact that he called me babe.
Jackson takes out his shiny black designer wallet and pays with his card. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“I sleep amazing.”
He turns on his heel to leave before pausing and then spinning around like he remembered an afterthought. A devilish smirk slides onto his face. “Oh, and make sure you don’t spill my order. This is a brand-new suit.”
My hands clench into a fist. Seriously?
“Don’t worry,” I say in my best angelic voice. “I’ll make sure to give some extra love to your order.”
Jackson raises a brow. “Should I be concerned?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m texting someone,” he says, pulling out his phone. “If I don’t make it back to work within the next hour, they’ll know where I am.”
Talk about dramatic.
Jackson strolls off and sits at the wooden table closest to the counter before scrolling through his phone. Of all the available seats, he just had to sit at the front.
If my gaze could blaze holes, I’d ruin his suit for sure.
I get to work, making his black coffee, and when I’m done, I place the coffee cup on his table with two napkins. “Here you go. An extra napkin for you since you’re so worried about your precious suit.”
Jackson stares at his coffee, then at one of the napkins, which has fuck you in my best fancy cursive writing in blue pen, as well as doodles of a smiling stick figure man and hearts and flowers around the words.
His eyes gleam under the brightness of the cone-shaped pendant lights, and he lets out a rich, velvety laugh that bounces off the walls. A genuine laugh, too, not a phony one.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s so funny?”
Holding my gaze, Jackson stares at me with a look that could easily pull anyone into his evil whirlpool of charm. Despite the fact that he’s the one sitting down and I’m towering over him, my pulse quickens, my body betraying me.
But that amounts to nothing compared to what comes out of his mouth next.
“If you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve just told me straight up, Isabella.”
My jaw drops, and I feel my cheeks burning with disgust.
Ego. His ego is bigger than the whole sky, the whole planet, the entire solar system, and it’s probably as big as his di—
Oh my God.
He’s corrupted my mind.
I’m spiraling.
I’m spiraling, and it’s all his fault.
Jackson casually takes a sip of his coffee, clearly enjoying my flustered state.
“It’s a shame that being back on land hasn’t cleared your delusions,” I say through gritted teeth.
Heat is still blooming across my cheeks, and despite the AC being on full blast, I feel like I’m suddenly standing in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Once again, all thanks to Jackson.
Jackson crosses his legs, amusement dancing in his eyes, like he can read all my inner thoughts. “It’s okay. You can admit you’re secretly in love with me. I won’t hold it against you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I hiss, rubbing my sweaty palms against my apron. I don’t give him a chance to reply, leaving his table before this can backfire any further.
Returning to my spot behind the counter, I attend to the new customers while Jackson drinks his coffee and continues scrolling through his phone as if he has all the time in the world.
At some point, I accidentally drop an empty to-go cup, and I swear I see him shaking his head at me in disapproval.
After what feels like forever, he finally gets up to leave, bringing his coffee cup to the bus bin on the shelf next to the pickup counter that’s labeled Dishes Here.
“Took you long enough,” I say.
“I had to sit for some time and monitor for any symptoms,” he explains. “You know, in case you’d poisoned me.”
“Ha-ha,” I drawl. “Absolutely hilarious, Carter.”
He checks his watch. “By the way, the coffee was average. Hopefully, you’ll do a better job next time.”
My molars grind. “Hopefully, you step on dog poop and have a bird shit on your clothes when you walk out the door.”
Jackson lets out a laugh. “Then I’ll get my shoes and clothes dry-cleaned and bill the fees under your name.”
I clench my jaw, not giving him the satisfaction of a response.
Keep dreaming, jackass.