Chapter Four
Theparkinglotbehind the coffee shop was overflowing thanks to the beautiful weather we’d been having recently. The sun was beating down through the sunroof, turning the truck into a sweatbox, even with all the windows fully down.
Rocky stuck his head in between the front seats, panting profusely as we waited for a space to become free. My light pink top was now plastered to my back and the backs of my legs were painfully stuck to the seat, creating that uncomfortable vacuum that would sting when I tried to peel myself from the upholstery. Leather and the unusual sweltering heat of May were not an ideal combination when donning shorts.
Fucking global warming.
“Fuck it,” I said to myself, bumping up onto the curb and pulling on the parking brake. Hopping out of Alex’s truck, I pulled at my bun, favouring a ponytail with hats, and tugged the long strands through the back strap hole, then slid my sunglasses over my eyes.
I opened the backdoor to the truck and Rocky jumped down, shaking out his fur, his big tongue dangling from the side of his mouth, happy to be out of the confined heat of the car. I held his lead in front of his shaggy, tawny head, which he took between his teeth as he followed me around the corner.
The main street was bustling with the buzz of summer approaching our small city early. Outdoor seating areas covered with bright blue and white parasols lined the front of most shops and were filled with an array of people enjoying the heatwave; an old couple on a bench people watching while eating ice cream, a group of teenage girls excitedly discussing what clothes they were going to wear to the “best party of the year” and several joggers passing by.
Four women sat outside the coffee shop as I approached, all with babies in their arms, discussing the latest parenting trend as one screaming infant cried his little lungs out. The mother tried to hush him, her face getting redder and redder, as nothing she tried seemed to work.
I tied Rocky to the nearest railing, thinking that leaving him close to four doting parents hopefully meant one of them would surely notice if someone tried to steal him. Rocky was a big dog and the chances of someone being brave enough to even try to take him were small, but I was a realist. Shitty people did shitty things daily, and I wouldn’t put it past anyone to take something that didn’t belong to them just because they could.
“Look, Harrison, a doggy,” the exhausted mother cooed to her child in a final attempt to soothe him. The crying stopped almost immediately as the baby’s attention turned to my dog. Leaving him to entertain the child, I made my way to the front entrance, receiving a grateful smile from the young mom on my way past. I tucked my sunglasses into the front of my top and pushed open the glass door to the café.
It was almost one o’clock and the coffee shop was busy with tourists, locals and businesspeople on their lunch breaks. The air-con was like a welcome chilly friend, wrapping me in its cold embrace. After grabbing an iced latte, I took a seat near the back of the shop and waited for Mr. Weston to arrive.
Like clockwork, the man from the headshot walked in like he owned the place, carrying a briefcase and paperwork in one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other. His gait was confident as he strolled through the crowd of people and gave the barista a single finger wave, completely bypassing the queue as she scrambled to start his order.
Unlike on the company homepage, he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket; his crisp black shirt, paired with a burgundy tie, was tucked neatly into his navy slacks fixed with a black leather belt. The sleeves of his shirt were folded neatly up to his elbows in the incredibly sexy way men do to show off their toned forearms. His broad chest was coated in that shirt like it was a second skin, and all I wanted to do was rake my nails down the front and rip it open to expose what I could only hope were taut muscles from the way the figure-hugging button-down clung to him.
Fuck, the heat was definitely getting to me.
His headshot did not do him justice, because in person, Jacob Weston truly was good looking – alright, insanely good looking – his rich dark hair was longer than in the photo, and it had a sprinkling of grey running through it. His facial hair had been trimmed to a neat stubble that wasn’t quite a beard, and I wondered if it felt soft or wiry, or if it would tickle the sensitive skin between my thighs.
My hands were clammy, and my mouth had dried at the sight of his bicep flexing as he lifted his briefcase to avoid a small child running for the exit. I could just watch him all day doing mundane tasks, like lifting boxes or simply pointing to something up high, just to make those strong arms work.
I groaned inwardly and dragged both hands down my face at my unusual response to the man I’d been assigned. I put it down to the visual stimuli clouding my judgment and sighed, doubting that my reaction to him was the type of recon Alex was after.
Jacob grabbed the free table next to mine, and I pulled on the bill of the cap, bringing it further down my face, and angled my body away from his. God, he even smelt good. The scent of fresh laundry detergent and something that made me picture the forest surrounded the table as he placed his paperwork down and leaned back in the chair, pushing his hair from his forehead.
“Yes Jen, I got it. The invite is somewhere here in this pile,” he said and drummed his fingers on the stack of papers as he continued to speak to the caller in this rich deep timbre that sent shivers of heat through my body, despite the crisp cool air filtering through the shop. “If you could ensure my suit has been dry cleaned, you’d be a lifesaver. Anyway, you should have left already. Your mother will be waiting for you at the spa.” There was a slight pause as a muffled high-pitched tone of a woman’s voice sounded down the phone. “I’ve told you not to worry about making up the time. You work hard enough as it is.”
“Mr. Weston?” the barista loudly shouted over the murmur of the shop, her face flushing when he looked over and smiled at her. Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he got up and went to the counter, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket as he walked.
An unfamiliar heat flashed through me when I watched the barista curl a long strand of pink hair around her finger as she handed over his coffee, laughing at whatever he had just said.
With his back to the counter, I pulled my gaze from the pair, oddly annoyed at them both, and looked around at the surrounding tables. Groups of people were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice me hurriedly shuffling through a stranger’s paperwork on the table next to me.
A light-yellow linen embossed piece of paper was tucked under several printed graphs and numbers. A perfectly calligraphed invitation to the ′Philanthropist of the Year Awards’ was addressed to Mr. Jacob Weston in dark, elegant strokes. I snapped a picture on my phone and slotted the thick page back into place.
I clicked on my Instagram app and began scrolling through the recent posts as Jacob returned to his table, collected his paperwork, and left the coffee shop in the exact pattern described by Alex earlier. I re-joined the queue at the counter, deciding it would be a good idea to grab a bottle of water for Rocky before heading home and also to waste some time before leaving to not look like some kind of stalker.
As I walked back out into the blistering heat, I slid on my sunglasses, and then immediately paused. Crouching down next to Rocky was Jacob. From this vantage point, I almost didn’t realise who it was. Rocky’s huge frame was towering over his squatting form as he gave my dog a vigorous scratch behind his ear, Rocky’s back leg kicking reflexively in enjoyment. The mother and baby were still close by, the baby babbling away to my dog with his chubby, small fingers trying to grab handfuls of his hair as his mother nodded and spoke to my new assignment.
She looked over to me, recognition dawning on her tired face, and pointed in my direction as she said, “It’s her dog, actually.”
Jacob shifted on his heels, turning to face me, his bright blue eyes lighting up as I approached. Rocky barked, trying to push past him as he spotted the bottle of water and cardboard bowl I held.
“Cute dog,” he commented, straightening to full height and dusting his suit pants down. He was much bigger up close, not as muscly as Alex, but definitely taller than him. I could now see that he had a dusting of freckles on his nose, which gave him a cute boyish sort of charm and his hair curled slightly at his forehead.
“Newfoundland rescue, right?”
I nodded, eyeing him carefully as I started to untie the leash that kept Rocky secure to the railing surrounding the outdoor seating area. I quickly put the bowl down and poured some water in.
“Yup, this is my big baby,” I said, patting Rocky’s head as he lapped up the water greedily. “How did you know he was a rescue?”
Jacob reached down, shifting the collar to bring the name tag to the top of Rocky’s neck. A silver four-leaf clover pendant sat on his fingertips before he let it go and reached over the top of the dog to grab his to-go cup from the glass table.
“I used to volunteer at Lucky Paws dog shelter. I’d know that symbol anywhere,” he said, looking down at the chubby baby who was staring up at him but was now trying to shove his whole fist in his mouth.
“Do you still volunteer?”
Jacob shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I donate monthly to them, though.” He stuck his tongue out at the baby, who giggled and clapped his saliva covered little hands. “It’s a great charity, bringing in dogs who have been abused or abandoned.”
“I actually gave them the rest of the litter this one came from,” I said, looking at my beautiful fur baby who had managed to get more water on the sidewalk than actually down his throat. “They were from a puppy farm who also used them as fighting dogs. I kept him, but his four siblings went to Lucky Paw’s for re-homing.”
Jacob looked like he was about to say something but stopped himself, shifting his paperwork beneath his arm. “Well, I best be off. It was nice to meet you, boy.” He gave my dog another pat. “Ladies.” He nodded his head and turned away to walk down the street in the direction of his office.
I watched as he left, my head tilting to enjoy the way his tight ass moved with every step. Rocky’s wet nose hit my hand, forcing me to drag my eyes away from my new target’s glorious behind. The young mother, who I completely forgot was still here, cleared her throat and got to her feet, arranging the small infant on her hip as a blush crept over her cheeks.
“He was something, wasn’t he?” she asked, her light pink cheeks turning crimson as she stared in the direction Jacob had gone. I offered a smile and groaned, running a hand down my face again.
Something was wrong with me. I can’t find a target attractive, regardless of how fuckable he looked or how charitable he seemed, and I certainly couldn’t be lusting after him.
“C’mon, boy, time to get ready for some poker.” I sighed to Rocky, leading him back to Alex’s truck to go home, disappointed I couldn’t find out much more than where he was going to be in a little over a week’s time.