Ottavia
Florin pulled off the road and prowled into the cafe’s parking lot. “You’re not interviewinghereas well, are you?” he asked, not bothering to hide his dismay.
“No. I’m meeting someone for a coffee real quick.”
He let out a dramatic breath of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“But Idohave another interview at one o’clock.” With a sneaking grin, I studied Florin’s face in the rearview mirror before I dropped the bomb on him. “It’s at Starbucks.”
He winced, clearly pained. I couldn’t help but giggle. Oh, how I relished terrorizing poor Florin!
“You know, Miss Ottavia,” he began with a sigh, “I really don’t understand why you’d want to do that to yourself. I’m sure your father would—”
“Not here.” I cut him off when he rolled to a stop right outside the cafe’s entrance. “Can you park towards the back, please? And don’t bother getting out. I’ll let myself out.”
He groaned. “As you wish.”
I hopped out of the car and hurried to the cafe, my thoughts turning towards Dakota.
I wonder what he looks like.
I hoped he wasn’t as advertised. Because let’s face it, when a cocky guy with a massive ego describes himself as a “tall and handsome stud,” there is a part of you that wants itnotto be true. To bring him back down to Earth and teach him a lesson in humility, or something.
But there he was, sitting alone among the cafe crowd, a devastatingly handsome man in his mid-twenties who, yes, could certainly be described as a “stud.” And though he was sitting, I could tell by his long, athletic frame that he was onetalldrink of water. I also knew Dakota spelled trouble—because there was no way girls could resist a man with such a striking jawline and dark, tousled locks of hair.
When his eyes met mine, the flutter in my tummy told me I wasn’t immune to his appeal, either. But I’ve always had a weakness for tall men with dark hair and green eyes—and his eyes, sparkling like emeralds from across the cafe, were the greenest I’d ever seen in my life.
Okay fine,I thought begrudgingly.You’re allowed to call yourself a stud.
I neared and Dakota rose from his chair to meet me. My neck kept craning higher and higher upward because he kept getting taller as he stood.
Holy hell,I thought, staring up at this tall and dashing man. If anything, he’dundersoldhow hot he was.
But then he opened his mouth. “Are you Jane?”
“Jane?” A flustered heat quickly rushed into my cheeks. “No … sorry. You’ve got the wrong person.”
I fled the scene, my pulse thumping in my neck. My mind raced with embarrassed thoughts. Oh my God, I felt like such a fool! How many people had witnessed that awkward encounter just then, I wondered? I must’ve looked so silly, tossing my hair and practically drooling over that guy as I approached, only to immediately discover he was waiting for somebody else—somelucky girl from Tinder, probably. I could feel people staring and silently snickering at me.
And that, Dakota, is why you shouldn’t hype yourself up,I thought, sneaking a disappointed glance at the cafe hunk.Because there’s no way you’ll be taller or hotter than him. No way.
Maybe I was in denial still, or maybe I wanted him to be Dakota—but something seemed off. Becausethatguy was dressed like he just came from the gym, too, wearing a tank top that showcased his thick and sculpted arms. What were the odds?
Are you sure that’s not Dakota?I asked myself.
But that guy was looking for Jane, not “Olivia,” so I moseyed around the cafe, trying to find someone who matched Dakota’s description. When that search proved fruitless, I sent Dakota a text and waited. From the corner of my eye, I kept watch, hoping.
Yes! I knew it,I thought when the guy checked his phone a moment later.
As if on cue, he smiled, stood, and made his way toward me.
Damn, I guess that really is you,I thought. What can I say? I was torn. On one hand, I was disappointed I wouldn’t be bringing Dakota’s ego back to Earth, after all. On the other hand? My heart happily thumped in my chest as the tall, handsome man approached—how could itnot?
“Olivia. Hey. I’m Dakota.” Chuckling, he stuck out a hand to shake again. “Sorry about that. I’m an idiot.”
“First you think I’m Brett. Now you think I’m Jane?” I grinned and gave him my hand to shake, which disappeared in his strong and enormous grip. “Who are you going to mistake me for next?”
“God, I don’t know.” The cute smile he gave me didn’t help at all with the flutter in my tummy. “Hopefully, no one else.”
