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Chapter eigh t

Sweeteners are for the weak

Charlie

T wo days have passed since Jake came over, and I still haven’t texted him. It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. But every time I pick up my phone, I freeze. I’ve spent most of my free time researching dessert table ideas, trying to figure out what would work best for the event, but the thought of actually texting him makes my heart race.

It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m sitting at my desk staring at my screen. My focus is supposed to be on a report due by the end of the day, but my mind keeps drifting back to Jake’s visit and the way he looked at me.

With a heavy sigh, I lean back in my seat and glance at my phone, lying innocently on my desk. What do I even say?

Hey, Jake. Thanks for coming over. About those ingredients…

No, too lame. Too stiff. I’m not stiff, I’m fun . I huff out a breath, feeling ridiculous. It’s just a text, for God’s sake.

Before I can overthink it anymore, there’s a soft knock on my office door, and Zoe peeks her head in. “Morning! Got a minute?”

“Of course,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “What’s up?”

She steps inside, holding out a coffee cup, and I take it with a smile. “Just wanted to check in. And,” she adds with a teasing grin, “I haven’t had the chance to properly talk to you about Monday.”

I s igh, already knowing where this is headed. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that .” She settles into the chair opposite my desk. “Mr. Hockey Star casually turns up on your doorstep, and I’ve been dying to know more ever since. So, spill.”

Stalling for time, I take a sip of my coffee, but I can feel my cheeks betraying me as they heat with the memory of Jake’s smile. I take a breath, relishing in the taste of the dark brew as it hits my tongue.

“There’s nothing to spill,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my heart’s still doing that annoying stutter whenever I think about him and that little dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. “He asked me to bake for his charity event, that’s all.”

Zoe raises an eyebrow. “And?”

I frown, a blend of excitement and anxiety bubbling up. “And… we talked about the event. He was just really nice. Supportive, actually. Even offered to help me with the baking.”

“Nice? Supportive? You know, I’ve known the guy for a while now and I’ve never heard him described as just nice and supportive. Try again.”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Okay, fine. He was more than nice. He was sweet. And maybe a little flirty.”

Zoe laughs. “Sweet and flirty, huh? So, what’s the problem?”

Setting my coffee down, I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just… I haven’t seen him in years, and suddenly he’s back in my life, and I’m supposed to… what? Text him about baking like it’s no big deal?”

“Charlie, it’s a text, not a marriage proposal. You’re overthinking this.”

“I know,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “But it’s not just the text. It’s everything. I’m not the same person I was back then, and neither is he. He’s Jake Brooks . And I’m just me.”

Zoe waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. You’re amazing, and if he doesn’t see that, then he’s a fool. But from what you’re telling me, he’s definitely not a fool.”

I smile, feeling a little better but still unsure. “He’s… I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other in years. This is probably just nostalgi a.”

“Nostalgia doesn’t make a guy like Jake offer to help you bake,” Zoe says, folding her arms again like she’s ready to debate me into the ground. “This is real, Charlie. And you deserve something real.”

I want to believe her, but I still feel that nagging doubt. “I just don’t want to assume something that’s not there.”

She leans forward, her tone softening but still laced with that Zoe-branded determination. “Listen. You’re not imagining this. You guys are like magnets. Freaky, once-in-a-lifetime, defy-the-laws-of-physics magnets. It’s honestly uncomfortable to witness, but that’s why it works.”

I scoff, but she keeps going before I can interrupt.

“Just take it slow, see what happens. No one’s saying marry him tomorrow. But don’t be that person who misses out because you’re scared of falling.”

“Was that a pep talk or a secret audition for motivational speaking? Because I feel like you could trademark the magnet thing.”

She narrows her eyes, feigning offense. “Wow. I try to inspire you, and this is the thanks I get? I could’ve gone with something boring, like connection , but magnets felt more iconic. You’re welcome.”

I laugh in disbelief. “You’re way too invested in this.”

“Damn right I am.” She stands, stretching her arms like she’s just won a championship. “Because I’m rooting for you, Charlie. And trust me, whatever this is—it’s real. So can you just hurry up and text him?”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll text him… eventually.”

“Good. And when you two get married, I’ll expect my name in the thank you speeches.”

She heads to the door, but before she leaves, she turns back with a smirk. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes with some of the Storm players. Just thought you should know. In case you want to, ya know, accidentally bump into someone.”

“Zoe!” I launch a pen at her, but she dodges it with a cackle, and disappears down the corridor.

Shaking my head, I try to refocus on my work, but now all I can think about is the possibility of running into Jake in the office.

I g lance at my coffee cup, now empty on my desk—drank that too fast. I stare at it for a moment, like it holds the answers to all my questions, but all it does is silently shout at me for a refill. And who am I to argue with the needs of questionable amounts of caffeine in my bloodstream? I swipe it up, deciding to refill it in the office kitchen.

Stepping out of my office, my stomach flips when I see Jake heading down the hall. He’s all tailored suit and effortless confidence, and when his slow grin lands on me, my pulse stumbles.

“Charlotte,” he says, his voice holding a mock professionalism as he closes the distance. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I arch a brow, channeling every ounce of cool I don’t feel. “Yeah, I work here, remember?” He smells ridiculous—like cedar and trouble .

He chuckles, the sound curling around me in a way that makes it hard to focus. “Hard to forget.”

We fall into step together, his arm brushing mine as we walk. I’m hyper-aware of how close he is, how his cologne sinks into me, and I can feel my brain short-circuiting. Somehow, I manage to keep walking without tripping, which feels like a small victory.

When we reach the kitchen, I busy myself with the coffee machine, gripping the handle like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

“What can I get you?” I ask, keeping my voice light. It’s just coffee, Charlie. Not a life-or-death situation.

He leans casually against the counter, the corner of his mouth curving upward, dimple on full display. “How about you tell me what’s good? Just don’t make me drink that dark, bitter stuff you’re into.”

I glance at him, fighting a smile. “Sweeteners are for the weak.” And I’m about as weak as they come.

His laugh is deep and entirely too distracting. “Zoe warned me you’d say something like that.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing a cup. “I just like my coffee strong.” And you in a suit, apparently.

Our fingers brush as I hand him the cup, and the brief contact sends a ripple through me. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says, studying me with those intense hazel eyes. His voice drops just slightly, like it’s meant only for me . “I’ve been waiting for your text.”

My heart kicks into overdrive. “I was meaning to, I just… I’ve just been busy.” Keep it together, Charlotte Renee Andrews.

He tilts his head, smirking like he can see right through me. “Busy, huh? Too busy to text me about brownies?”

I force myself to meet his eyes, even as my pulse hammers. “I’ve been researching ideas. Wanted to make sure I got it right.”

“Is that so?” He sips his coffee, watching me over the rim of the cup. “Well, don’t overthink it. Just tell me what you need.” Why does this feel like we’re no longer talking about brownies?

I nod slowly. “Okay. I will.”

We stand there, the air charged with tension. Then, with a wink that’s equal parts infuriating and charming, he sets his cup down and steps away.

“See you later, Charlie girl,” he says, and walks out.

The way his voice wraps around my name feels like he's looking right into me, like there’s something inside worth revering. I stand there, heart still racing as his words linger.

As I head back to my office, my mind spins. Jake Brooks just called me out for not texting him, while wearing a suit and looking like some kind of ice god. And as much as I plan on killing Zoe for placing that term in my head, I think I enjoyed every minute of it.

***

An hour or so later, I’m up to my eyeballs in report data, still processing everything that happened with Jake earlier, when Marcus strolls into my office. “Hey, Charlotte. Got a minute?”

I glance up, shifting gears. “Sure. What’s up?”

Marcus leans casually against the doorframe, smiling. “Just wanted to chat about the project you’re helping me with. You’ve been doing great work, as always.”

“Thanks,” I say, brushing off the compliment. “What do you need?”

He steps in further, leaning a little too close over my desk. Normally, I’d laugh it off or redirect, but today I’m hyper-aware of how hollow his actions feel. Especially after this mornin g with Jake.

“Well,” Marcus begins, his tone tipping from professional to something a lot more informal. “I was thinking maybe we could grab lunch sometime? You know, to discuss the project… And get to know each other a bit more.”

Before I can respond, there’s a sharp rap on the open door, and I jump slightly. Jake stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his presence fills the space like a thundercloud rolling in. His gaze flicks to Marcus, then to me. “Am I interrupting?”

Marcus straightens, caught off guard. “Oh, hey, Jake. No, not at all. We were just chatting about grabbing lunch.”

Jake nods once, his face neutral but his posture anything but relaxed. “Charlotte, could I borrow you for a second?”

“Of course,” I say, my pulse picking up speed. Marcus gives me a quick, almost nervous smile before excusing himself. I watch as Jake’s gaze tracks him, holding steady until Marcus is halfway down the corridor. Then he steps into my office and closes the door firmly behind him.

The air shifts instantly. Jake turns, his eyes locking on mine, direct and unrelenting. It sends a shiver down my spine, every single nerve suddenly awake.

He steps closer, and for one idiotic second I think he's going to pull me into his arms. But my eyes refocus on his hand as it moves towards me, and I realize he's holding out a notepad and pen. “I was thinking, you should write down what you need for baking tomorrow. I’ll pick it up.”

I blink, caught off guard. “You don’t have to do that. I can handle it—”

“I want to. Then we can bake together tomorrow afternoon at your place, if that still works for you.”

I nod and reach for the notepad. His fingers brush mine deliberately, and I falter for a moment. “Yeah, that works.”

I jot down the list quickly, focusing on my pen moving across the paper and not the way he’s watching me, or the fact that I’m imagining us baking together in my kitchen. It feels intimate, maybe too soon. But when I glance up at him, the sincerity in his eyes holds me there. Keeps me from pulling back.

I hand him the notepad, and his lips curve into a grin as he scans the list. “Simple enough. Just promise not to be too impressed when I turn out to be a natural in the kitchen.”

I scoff, tilting my head. “Big ta lk for someone who might just end up covered in flour before we even preheat the oven. But I’ll try to keep my awe in check… if you can keep up.”

“Oh, I can keep up, Charlie girl.” He steps a little closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble that makes me feel like I’m quietly crumbling. “But now you’ve got me curious—what happens if I don’t? Do I get extra lessons? Maybe some one-on-one tutoring?”

His voice dips just enough to make my breath hitch, but I recover quickly, raising an eyebrow at his blatant innuendo. “We’ll see how you do, Captain Thunder. Just don’t be surprised if I have to take over when you burn the first batch.”

Jake laughs, and it’s impossible not to smile back. “Challenge accepted, Lady Lightning. But don't say I didn't warn you when I turn out to be your star pupil.”

I bite my lip and his eyes flick down briefly, catching the movement. The flash in his eyes tells me he’s having just as much fun with this as I am.

He clears his throat, holding my eyes for a moment as he slaps the notepad into the palm of his other hand. “Thanks for this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I echo, barely above a whisper.

Giving me one last lingering smile, he turns and walks out, leaving me standing there.

Tomorrow.