Page 20 of A Very Merry Mistake

“Great. Quick question…”

“Yeah?” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

“What’s Glenda’s last name?”

“The owner?” He glances at her before looking at me. “Elf.”

Of course it is. When Glenda walks over, Jake hands her his card.

“I’ll pay,” I tell him. “You’re doing me a favor. Please, I insist.”

Glenda doesn’t even wait for my protests and walks away.

“A gentleman never lets a lady pay for a meal. It’s just not somethin’ we’re accustomed to here in the South.”

I nod, begrudgingly accepting this part of the Texas culture. The yes-ma’ams and no-ma’ams are included. Next time, instead of asking questions, I’ll remind myself they’re all just Southern. I think their hospitality and manners are giving me culture shock. The people I’ve surrounded myself with act as if they’re the only ones in the room because they’re selfish. And they talk so much because they love the sounds of their voices.

I’ve never fit in anywhere. Not in the city. And surely not here.

I take another gulp of my coffee.

“No rush,” he tells me. “We’ll leave when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I say, letting out a breath. I don’t like anyone waiting for me, mainly because I usually don’t have time to wait on others. It’s the go-go-go mentality that’s been engrained into me since I was a teenager. So when it’s time to slow down, I’m not sure how to act or what to do.

When he asks Glenda for a refill of coffee, I know he means it. Jake is used to living the slow-and-easy life with a we’ll get there when we get there mentality. In New York and Paris, life moves fast, and the cities never sleep. Neither do the CEOs.

Jake pours two more spoonfuls of sugar and cream inside his mug and notices I’m staring. Men like him don’t exist. And when I look at him, I still can’t help but wonder if I’m dreaming.

“You know it’s not polite to stare,” he drawls with a tilted brow, though I notice he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me since we sat down. I’m not complaining. I don’t mind holding his attention because he intrigues me.

I smile. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it with the view.”

Jake grins and winks. “Thank ya, ma’am.”

I laugh. “Typical Texan. Maybe that should be your nickname.”

“I am a man who loves a good nickname, but it’s too close to JJ.”

I breathe in. “I think I’ll call you Mr. Nice, then.”

He pops a brow. “And would that make you Mrs. Naughty?”

The growl in his voice—and the way he chews on the corner of his lip before he gives me a wide, perfect smile paired with a smoldering gaze—has me ready to internally combust with just one damn look. Am I that desperate for someone to be nice to me that I already find this man attractive?

I swallow hard and clear my throat. My cheeks are burning.

“You’re blushing,” he murmurs. “Didn’t realize that’s all it would take.”

“Well played. I’ve got to give it to you for catching me off guard. That doesn’t happen often,” I admit. I’m usually more on my A-game than this. Maybe it’s the green in his eyes and the confidence that rolls off him that makes him so attractive. Or maybe it’s the Southern drawl, protectiveness, and manners. Either way, I have to keep my focus while I’m here. There is no room for mistakes or distraction.

I finish my pancakes, and Glenda refills my coffee. We sit for five more minutes before we’re both satisfied and ready to go. Don’t remember the last time I’ve not been rushed by either myself or outside sources.

All of this is out of my control—the truck, the inn, the godforsaken weather—and maybe I should take a page out of Jake’s book and try to enjoy the time I have here.

It’s not the experience I planned, but it’s the one I’m having.

At least until returning home becomes an option.

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