Jace:The hell you will. I’m picking you up from your house on Friday at five o’clock. Don’t argue.
Cassie:Whatever. Goodbye.
Jace:Goodbye, sugar.
Chapter 8 – Jace
As I pulled into Cassie’s driveway, I wondered if I’d entered the address into my truck’s GPS wrong. Where Cassie was all fire-red hair and dark rainy vibes, her house was the complete opposite.
It was white and gave off summer cottage vibes. It had a brick wrap-around porch on all sides, with colorful mums lining the stairs and either side of her front door, which was painted a pale teal blue.
You could tell she’d put a lot of effort into the landscaping too. A brick walkway spiraled across her yard, ending at the street. Each side was lined with bright green bushes and fresh mulch.
Cassie put a lot of time and effort into making sure her coffee shop gave off the exact vibes she wanted it to, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d done the same thing with her house. If she wasn’t at the coffee shop, she was at home, so it made sense for her to ensure both places were perfect.
Her black SUV was parked in the driveway––dent still in the front bumper. Whenever I saw it, I laughed, thinking about the boot still wrapped snugly around my foot to rest the bones while they healed from Cassie’s wild driving.
Before I could knock on the door, Cassie swung it open wide, grabbing her purse off the small table in her entryway and rushing to close the door.
“Let’s get this party started,” she said, turning to lock the door behind her.
“Hello to you too,” I laughed.
Cassie darted down the steps of her front porch. As she jogged down the steps, I admired her choice of attire. She wore tight black pants and a black shirt with a jean jacket over it. On the back was a hand-painted Grizzlies design, with stars trailing across it and down the sleeves. Her normally wild red hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head, and the freckles scattered along her cheeks were extra obvious today. She somehow managed to look comfortable yet unforgettably gorgeous at the same time.
I quickened my strides, trying to beat her to my truck that was parked in the road in front of her house.
I hopped in front of her just in time, opening the passenger door.
“Cinderella, your chariot awaits,” I said, motioning for her to get in.
“I like to think I give off Merida vibes, more than Cinderella ones,” she joked as she hopped into the passenger seat.
“Which one is that?”
“The redheaded Viking that accidentally turns her mom into a bear, duh,” she said as she closed the door.
I guess I wasn’t up to date on my Disney Princesses. June Bug would be so disappointed in me.
“Before we get there, I better try my best to explain how football works, so you’ll know what’s going on,” I said, looking at her in the passenger seat.
“Jace, if you start trying to mansplain football to me right now, so help me. I know how football works. I watch it all the time. On Saturdays, I basically live on my couch with a cozy blanket, watching college football.”
“Okay, fair enough,” I said, laughing. “Who’s your favorite team then?”
“The Grizzlies, of course, even if our season has been shitty. We’ve lost our last two games. Another loss and I think they’ll have lost any momentum they have left,” she replied easily.
“Maybe you’ll be their good luck charm today. Your red hair gives me luck-of-the-Irish vibes,” I joked.
“I always hated my red hair growing up, you know? Kids used to make fun of me for it all the time at school. I wish I could go back and tell my ten-year-old self everything would be fine,” she admitted, flipping through the radio stations.
“I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” I said, starting to feel bad about what I’d said. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you when I met you.”
She turned, giving me a look. “You mean the first time you came to my coffee shop?”
“Actually, the first time I laid eyes on you wasn’t there. It was about a month before that—at Maggie’s. It was pouring rain, and you came bursting through the door like a gust of wind. You were picking up a to-go order at the counter. Your hair was wet and the curls were flying everywhere. Maybe to ten-year-old assholes that made you weird, but to me, your hair just made you even more intriguing. I watched you grab your order and leave. I tried to think of something to say so I could spark up a conversation with you, but I was too awestruck.
Then, about a month later, I saw you again through the front window of your coffee shop. I realized you were the girl from Maggie’s. That’s why I started coming to your coffee shop instead of sticking with my black coffee I used to make at home every morning. You know how much money I’ve spent at your joint? I could be a partial investor at this rate.”
