Chapter 8 Glass Hearts and Second Chances
Glass Hearts and Second Chances
I surveyed the wreckage that was once my adorable little café.
It looked like a tornado had thrown a tantrum, leaving shattered glass and overturned furniture everywhere.
At least Matt had gotten his crew here at the crack of dawn to replace the storefront window.
Silver lining: my insurance deductible was only going to bankrupt me a little bit.
"Could be worse," I muttered, stepping over debris. "Could be raining."
Thunder rumbled overhead.
I groaned, feeling slightly defeated. "I did NOT just jinx myself."
I made my way to the kitchen, where Matt was wrestling with what used to be my industrial mixer. The poor thing lay on its side like a defeated robot. The bitter smell of spilled cleaning products mixed with the lingering aroma of baked goods made me turn up my nose.
"Need help with that?" I reached down to grab the other end.
"Nah, I've got…"
"OW!" Pain shot through my palm as something sharp bit into my skin, because apparently my life needed more drama. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?" Matt's gaze shot up as I snapped up, grabbing my hand as blood pooled in my palm. "Oh shit, you're bleeding." He dropped the mixer in his hands.
"It's okay, I'm fine." I brushed it off like it wasn't a big deal.
"Okay," he smiled, his gaze meeting mine. "But I'm still going to help you get this cleaned up, okay?" Smiling, I nodded. "Do you have a first aid kit?"
"In the office. Next to my How to Run a Business Without Losing Your Mind book. Spoiler alert: it's not working."
He turned, ripping a couple of sheets of paper towel off the roll before turning back. "Let me see."
Matt leaned in to examine my cut, and I caught a whiff of his cologne.
My breath hitched, and I found myself acutely aware of how close we were.
His fingers gently cradled my hand, and I wondered if he could feel my pulse racing beneath my skin.
I moved my hand, and he placed the paper towel over the pool of blood.
"Squeeze this." I curled my hand into a fist. "Looks like you probably cut it on glass. "
His hands wrapped around my hips, and before I knew what was happening, he lifted me onto the stainless steel prep table, its cold surface a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands. "Stay here. I'm going to grab the first aid kit and get this cleaned up."
He disappeared for about a minute and a half before he returned. "Find it?"
He held up the red box before setting it on the table beside me. "All right, let's see what we have."
I put more pressure on the paper towel, hoping to stop the bleeding as my gaze swept over the room.
"You know, most guys would've run screaming by now. Crazy bleeding woman, destroyed café, general chaos everywhere."
"Most guys are idiots." He opened the kit and pulled out disinfectant. "This might sting."
"Story of my life."
As Matt applied the disinfectant, I winced. His entire demeanor changed. His focus narrowed to my injury, his movements becoming gentle yet efficient as he tended to my hand.
He cleaned my cut, and I studied his concentrated expression. "You know, I owe you an apology."
"For bleeding on me? It's not the worst thing that's happened to me today."
"For ghosting you." The words tumbled out.
"But that was the worst thing that happened to me today." His playful grin said he was teasing me.
"That was yesterday."
"True."
"Instead, I hid in my apartment eating ice cream and watching reruns of The Office because I let my insecurities get to me."
His hands stilled. "The Office is a solid choice."
"Matt, I'm serious. I'm a disaster. My café looks like a crime scene, my love life is a cautionary tale, and I just bled on my kitchen equipment."
"Your love life is a cautionary tale?"
I shrugged.
Our eyes met and held for a long moment. The playful glint in his eyes faded, replaced by an intensity that said this conversation just got real. "Tell me why you really didn't show up last night?"
Chewing on my bottom lip, I tried to decide whether I should really tell him the truth or make up a story. I felt the familiar urge to deflect with humor, to hide behind sarcasm. But something about Matt made me want to be real, vulnerabilities and all.
I swallowed hard. "With my ex, I missed all the signs.
Or maybe I just ignored them. I don't even know anymore.
" My bottom lip trembled slightly as I ran my fingertips over the stainless steel table, remembering countless mornings spent here with him, his criticisms disguised as helpful advice.
How had I not seen it then? "I missed that he was never really attracted to me.
I completely overlooked his passive-aggressive behavior.
I missed that he was using me to secure a spot at my father's law firm and then kept it going to move up the ladder.
" I blinked rapidly, turning away as my vision blurred.
"That's why he's so angry now; he let it all slip too soon.
" My gaze met his. "I don't trust my judgment anymore. "
"None of that is your fault, Brooke." Settling between my legs, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen loose out of my face and sliding it behind my ear.
"I don't think you understand. It was my fault." I swallowed hard. "I should have seen all the signs. I see them now, looking back."
He sighed. "My wife was cheating on me for the last two years of our marriage.
I ignored all the signs because I trusted her.
We'd been together since high school. I blamed myself for a long time for ignoring all the signs, and I was so mad at myself for looking like a fool, but the truth is love is blind, and in the moment, it's easy to miss those signs. "
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed…"
Matt stepped closer, his expression turning serious. "For what it's worth, I think your ex was an idiot."
"Because he used me?"
"Because he let you go." His voice was quiet, sincere. "And because apparently he was too stupid to realize what he had."
My heart did a little flip. "You don't even know me."
"I know you make the best coffee in the city. I know you're funny even when you're bleeding. I know you're strong enough to rebuild this place." He gestured around the destroyed café. "And I know you look great in flour-covered aprons."
"I look like a disaster in flour-covered aprons."
"A beautiful disaster."
I rolled my eyes, but I was fighting a smile. "That's such a line."
"Is it working?"
"Maybe." I bit my lip. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Why didn't you kiss me the other night? When you walked me home?"
His eyes darkened. "Oh, I wanted to kiss you." He leaned forward, dropping his mouth to mine, his breath warm against my lips. Goosebumps erupted along my neck, and I struggled to focus. "Trust me, I spent the entire walk home thinking about it."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you were drunk, and I didn't want you to wake up the next morning thinking it was a mistake." He leaned closer. "I wanted to make sure that when I kissed you, you'd remember every second of it."
Heat pooled in my stomach. "That’s… actually really sweet."
"I can be sweet when I'm not covered in construction dust."
"I don't know. The construction dust is kind of working for you."
"Is it now?"
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late." His grin was pure trouble.
My gaze dropped to my hands. "I thought…"
"I know," he cut me off. "I get it if you're not ready for anything serious or whatever," his palms flattened on each side of me, caging me in.
The room seemed to tilt slightly, and I gripped my thighs to steady myself.
"But I want you to know I am a very patient man, and I will be here when you're ready to see if this connection I feel, and I know you feel too, is real.
I can't promise it will work out because we are just strangers with a very intense chemistry right now, but I can promise that I will always be respectful.
I will always be honest, and I will never leave you guessing where we stand.
So, unless you make it very clear that you are not interested, I'm not going anywhere. "
A warmth crept up my neck, and I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Okay, but I…" I paused. I can't believe I'm about to admit that I stalked him on social media. "I've seen your type, and I know I'm not it."
His brows pulled tightly together. "My type?" He shook his head. "I'm not following."
"I, uh, well, I googled you, and all the women in your life look the same."
He huffed out a laugh. "I don't think you understand.
I was just getting into the world of wrestling when I found out Kelsey was cheating on me.
I was heartbroken, and I didn't want anything serious.
After her, the thought of opening up to someone again made my chest tighten.
Casual was safe. Casual didn't hurt. My career started to take off, and my agent, along with my publicist, personally selected every woman who has been publicly seen with me on my arm over the last ten years.
I dated none of them officially. Kelsey wasn't blonde or 5'11" or 100 pounds.
She had dark hair and eyes; she was around 5'2", I think, and very curvy. "
"Did the women know you weren't dating?"
He nodded. "There were contracts involved. If you want to see them, I'd be happy to show them to you." I wanted to believe Matt, to trust in his words and actions. But Chris's betrayal echoed in my mind, a warning siren I couldn't fully silence.
"So you have a thing for curvy women?" Oh, God, please don't tell me he's one of those men who fetishize bigger women.
"I have a thing for women with curves." His gaze perused my body as he bit down on his bottom lip. His words hung in the air, confident and unashamed. The corners of my mouth twitched upward before I could stop them.
"Where is Kelsey now?"
He shrugged, sucking in a deep breath. "I don't know. I haven't seen her in years."
"I just don't want to miss the signs."
He shook his head. "There are no signs. I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you that you are my type if you let me."
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I'm giving you the third degree for nothing."
"No, I'm glad we are clearing the air. After this conversation, we can start over, start clean. No secrets, no lies. I want you to know everything. No more PR stunts, no more fake relationships. Just… this. Us."
"That sounds good."
"When is your next day off?" He stepped back, cleaning up the scraps of paper from the bandage.
"Well, thanks to you, it looks like the café will be able to reopen soon. I just have to reorder some supplies and food, and I should be back in business."
"Well, I'll make you a deal?" My face split into a grin, and I nodded for him to continue.
"There's not much left here for you to do tomorrow.
The crews have it covered. So, you go out with me tomorrow on my boat as friends, and then I will come in early in the morning and help you with inventory.
" My brows pulled together. Boat? "I'm not a terrible cook, and I'll even wear one of the fluffy pink and white aprons. "
"Well, that is something I definitely need to see, but…"
"No buts."
“I…" My mind raced, grasping for excuses as I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water because there was no way I was getting into a bathing suit with him.
There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. "I, uh, I can't swim.
" That was a lie. I loved being in the water and swimming, and the sound of a boat day sounded so amazing, but I wasn't that comfortable yet.
He narrowed his eyes, and I held my breath, wondering if he was going to call me out on my bullshit, but he didn't.
His smile faltered for a moment, his shoulders sagging slightly before he caught himself, quickly hiding the disappointment flickering in his eyes. My chest tightened, and I found it hard to take a full breath. "Okay, then, I guess…"
"I'm sorry," I sighed, my eyes closing and my head hanging. "That's not the reason."
"So, you don't want to go?" He raised a brow and cocked his head.
"I do want to go. I'm just…" I trailed off.
"Scared of boats? Get seasick? Afraid I'll make you walk the plank?"
I smiled. "Worse."
"Worse than walking the plank?" His face twisted with confusion.
"I'm scared of wearing a bathing suit in front of you."
Matt blinked. "That's your definition of worse than walking the plank?"
"Have you seen me in a bathing suit?"
"No, but I'm hoping to remedy that situation."
My chest swelled. Matt had a way of making everything okay.
"Then we'll wait," he smiled. "Until you aren't scared anymore, and I'll still come to help you get ready to open the café back up anyway."
"And wear the pink apron?" I teased.
His eyes flicked down to my lips, lingering there a beat longer than necessary before meeting my gaze again. "Will it make you smile like that?" I nodded as my smile faded.
I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of every point where our bodies touched, and heat pooled between my thighs. "Then yeah, I'll wear it."
I stared at him, half expecting him to disappear like a mirage. God, where did this man come from? He was almost too good to be true.
"Do you have any plans for tonight?"
"No."
"Will you go to dinner with me?"
I pretended to consider it. "Will there be dessert?"
"The best dessert."
"Okay, but if this turns out to be another disaster, I'm blaming you."
"Deal. But just so we're clear, I’m really hoping for disaster."
"Why?"
"Because all the best love stories start with disasters." He helped me down from the table, our hands lingering together. "Plus, I've got a feeling you're worth the chaos."
I looked around my destroyed café, then back at Matt's hopeful face. "You know what? Let's find out."
And if the universe was listening, maybe, just maybe, this disaster would turn out to be exactly what I needed.