“Those waffles sound like a sugar overload.”
“It is, but you won’t regret it, I promise,” I say, smiling at her. “Plus, you need something to counteract all the alcohol you drank.”
She blows out a breath, pushing her hair from her face as she quickly shakes her head. “I swear I didn’t drink that much.” She purses her lips. “I have a low tolerance and needed something to take the edge off.”
The edge from what?
The words die on her lips as our server comes back with our waters and pours us each a mug of piping hot coffee. She leaves some cream and sugar in the center of the table for me.
Jade slowly lifts the hot liquid to her lips, not even flinching as she takes a sip of it. I overload mine with cream and sugar, slowly stirring it as I meet her gaze once more.
“Is everything okay?”
Her chest rises as she sucks in a deep breath. She swaps her coffee for her water, taking a long sip before setting it back down on the table. “I don’t know. I’m just stressed and out of time and probably fucked.”
My eyebrows cinch together. I have no idea what she’s talking about as she speaks the words in a rushed exhale. “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She lets out a harsh laugh. “Unless you can come up with the best story idea ever, then no.” She opens her mouth, then closes it, her face scrunching up before she sighs. “I’m an author and the publisher I’ve been working with asked for a new idea and I’m supposed to have something by Monday but I have nothing.”
My curiosity is piqued and I tilt my head to the side. “You’re an author? What do you write?”
“Romance,” she admits after a beat, almost as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it aloud.
“No shit,” I breathe, a soft laugh following. A grin tugs on my lips. “That’s really cool. I’ve never met a real-life author before.”
Jade arches a brow. “Do you even read?”
“Not often, but it is a skill I have.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. A pink tint creeps across her cheeks and her lips lift into a slow smile. “Seems like you have a lot of those, but none that benefit me.”
I stare at her for a moment, the last three words hanging in the air around us. She doesn’t seem to notice, probably because she’s still sobering up. She takes another sip of her coffee and then her water.
She has no idea how we could benefit from one another again. I don’t know the first thing about her job or what she does, but I know how to tell a story.
Which could also be the perfect distraction for me.
“Let me help you with your book.”
She sits back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”
“You need inspiration for your story. Let me help you.”
She’s silent for a moment, her arms falling away from her chest as she reaches for her mug. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she assesses me. Her gaze is piercing, intrusive, and fuck me, I like the way she’s looking at me right now.
Like she doesn’t know if she should leave my ass sitting in this booth alone or if she should indulge in the crazy idea I presented.
“What do you know about love, Matteo Ford?”
“You can call me Matty,” I offer, shrugging. “Everyone else does.”
Her eyes burn brighter. “I’m not everyone else.”
Holy fuck.
“No,” I rasp. “You’re not, are you?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
