Page 30 of A Perfect Fit

“Looks like Mr. CEO is feeling very generous today,” Aaron muses. “He must be in a particularly good mood. I wonder why.”

I toss him a glare. For the second time, I’m regretting asking him to join me. “Can’t I just want to buy you coffee?”

“Sounds like he got out of the right side of bed for once,” Isabelle sarcastically adds.

Her statement piques my interest. “Thinking about me waking up in the morning, Isabella?”

She scowls. “Yeah. I’m just dying to know what color shirt Jackson Carter was wearing when he woke up this morning.”

“I actually sleep shirtless,” I say and watch as flustered Isabelle—with her cheeks tinting pink—replaces sarcastic Isabelle.

Jackson—one. Isabelle—zero.

“All right, kids, let’s keep this PG friendly,” Aaron says, raising a palm. “Bear in mind, I’m still third-wheeling here.”

“Who’s third-wheeling who?”

The three of us turn around to see Jen, who’s entered the coffee shop. Her eyes dart between me and Aaron, lingering on Aaron for a moment longer.

“Jen?” Aaron grins, his face lighting up. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hey, Aaron. You too,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks over to us. She clears her throat and faces Isabelle, then me. “Hey, Belle. Hello, Jackson.”

I acknowledge her with a friendly smile. “Hey, Jen.”

Isabelle walks out from behind the counter with a grin and gives Jen a hug. When they pull apart, there’s a mischievous look in Jen’s eyes. She turns to Isabelle and says, “So, how’s the search for a fake boyfriend going?”

My head jolts back. Isabelle’s searching for a … what?

Unsure whether to be amused or concerned right now, I glance at Isabelle, whose cheeks are now flushed with heat. “You need a fake boyfriend?”

She shoots me a fiery glare. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Firstly, she doesn’t need a fake boyfriend, but she would be interested in having one,” Jen clarifies, turning to me with a look that means all business and no bullshit. “Secondly, would you like to volunteer?”

I’m taken aback by how forthright that was and remind myself not to mess with Jen.

“Jen!” Isabelle gasps.

“My vote also goes to Jackson,” Aaron chimes in.

I throw another glare at Aaron “The Traitor” Lancaster, who seems more invested in this exchange than when he’s watching the Knicks—our favorite basketball team and his overall favorite sports team—play a game. “Whose side are you on?”

He flashes me a smile. “I’m on Cupid’s side.”

“Same,” Jen adds.

Isabelle’s eyes go wide. “That’s an insult to Cupid!”

I agree. Any arrows Cupid shot at us would probably burn into ashes and flames.

“Doesn’t that kind of stuff only happen in those fluffy romance books you read?” I ask Isabelle.

I remember how she loved reading romance books back in high school, especially the ones with those cartoon covers.

Isabelle opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“You didn’t answer my question, Jackson,” Jen jumps in.