“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 nothingmore 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.”
