I say hi to a nice young couple walking a black lab pup. People are queuing up to get inside my front door. I could get used to this whole line thing. Maybe I should even open the doors early. I’m honestly not sure, as it's never come up before.
Then I remember that I have a key to the back door but I’ve never gotten to use it. I guess I will today.
I'm early, fifteen minutes as usual, and I don't want to disrupt the people waiting in line with their pets or have them think I'm cutting the line or something.
As I make my way around to the back entrance I have to then halt in order to dig the ancient back door key out of my purse. It takes a minute, but then I find it.
Once inside, the blast of air conditioning hits me. I hear voices as I weave around to the front desk and lobby area. The voices get louder and I realize that one of the voices is my front-desk clerk, Mia.
The other voice is clearly Jake's. Whatever I was expecting having to deal with Jake today and confronting him about our past, the last thing I expected was for him to be early.
Mia is rapt, watching him with her full attention, bosoms heaving underneath her circle cut tee shirt. Ugh.
Before even stopping to think, I take a step forward. This time, I make more noise with my cream colored flat.
Then I size up the distance between us, the width of his ridiculously broad shoulders, and account for the flow of the air conditioner before I let the coffee cup fly.
The cup hits Jake square between the shoulder blades. Then it bursts open with a satisfying pop and drips what's left of my Tropical Disturbance down the black tee shirt he's wearing.
There wasn’t much left in the cup. And other than a slight discoloration, nobody will be able to tell and that's a little disappointing. But I know and that’s what really matters.
His head whips around toward me and it’s clear he didn’t hear me approach. “What the hell, Angie?”
I roll my eyes so hard that they must make an actual sound because Jake clears his throat. "And that's the story of how I scored six touchdowns in a single game."
The momentary confusion that flashes across Mia's face tells me everything I need to know. He's lying. Again. Of course.
"Seriously, Angie?" he asks, turning his back to try to see how much of a mess the cup of coffee made on his shirt.
"Oops," I say, "that cup fell right out of my hand."
He turns to face me. His jaw tightens and he fixes me with those gorgeous baby blues. God, I hate him so much that I forget just how handsome he is sometimes. It's just not fair.
"You're saying that you accidentally threw the coffee cup at me?"
"You never scored six touchdowns." I say flatly, knowing that’ll hurt more than anything else I can possibly say.
"I'm not talking about pro," he argues through gritted teeth. "I'm talking about high school."
"I know, I was there."
"No, you weren't. That was the game you had Chicken Pox, remember? You were at home passed out on the couch. I called repeatedly but your mom refused to let me talk to you. She said you had a hundred and four degree fever and it had been three days since you so much as lifted your head off of the pillow and she'd be damned if I dragged you off to some stupid football game to be the death of you."
I fight the urge to laugh out loud. That does sound like my Momma.
Me and Jake stare each other down, at an impasse. The shit-eating grin he wears means that he's one hundred percent sure that he's right. He even looks at Mia and gives her a little wink. Asshole. I wait just another beat longer.
Then I step forward and whisper so only he can hear me. "I was there. And it wasn't really six touchdowns, it was seven, but you were screwed by that dumbass referee, the one with the bad toupee. He hit your team with a bullshit phantom holding call."
Then, after a get your ass in gear, we're about to open look aimed at Mia, I round the corner to finish checking messages so that I can open the office for the day. People are waiting outside, after all.
Chapter 14
Jake
I spend the rest of the morning signing autographs. Cara sent over a large basket of mini footballs with Angie’s St. Tropic Veterinary Practice logo and a few sharpies. She's nothing if not thorough.
Angie, despite being angry, set me up with a comfortable chair and desk over on the side to give plenty of room for people to form an orderly line as they wait for their appointments.
As usual, she has thought of everything. Just like old times. I do feel bad about this morning. Talking to the receptionist probably isn't the smartest thing I've done since I got back.
But in my defense, the smile I used on Mia worked like a charm. It works on everybody. Well, it used to. Now it works on everybody except Angie. And she’s the one who matters most.
I don’t know how I forgot how Ninja-like Angie can be. Damn. It's not the first time she's snuck up on me, either. But I can't let my mind go there right now. Because the truth is, I was just talking to Mia because I had all this nervous energy. I want Angie. More than I've ever wanted anyone.
And I'm not saying I deserve a second chance, because I'm not sure that I do. All I'm saying is that the heart, and the cock, wants what it wants. And right now, both of them want Angie. I’m a professional football player who can get any girl I
