Page 25 of Pucking My Off-Limits Billionaire Boss
Jake holds up his hands in surrender, but there's a challenge in his eyes. "Okay, okay, no hockey. But we're notjustresurrecting Mocha Memoirs here; we're giving it a new life. That means some compromises, Lucy."
"Sure. But just so we're crystal clear," I add, leaning in to emphasize my point, "I want full creative control over the coffee bar. This isn't going to turn into 'Jake Rogers' Hockey-Themed Caffeine Emporium.'"
Jake's laugh doesn't reach his eyes as he crosses his arms. "Lucy, 'full control' is a bit much, don't you think? I mean, I'm all for letting you steer the ship, but I'm not about to just hand over the entire fleet."
My eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me? This was my baby long before you decided to play Monopoly with Cedarwood. I know this crowd, Jake. They want cozy, not corporate."
He rubs the back of his neck, clearly wrestling with the idea. "Okay, how about this—you get the lead on the design and menu, but I get a say in the branding and marketing. We need to think about appealing to a wider audience, not just the regulars."
I let out a sigh, knowing a full surrender from Mr. Hockey Hero is as likely as finding a unicorn. "Fine, but I'm warning you, any talk of turning it into a full-on sports bar, and I'll unleash the fury of a thousand espresso machines."
Jake smirks, extending his hand. "Deal. But Lucy, just remember, compromise is the name of the game here."
As our hands clasp, sealing this new, shaky alliance, I can't help but feel like I've just agreed to play chess with a guy who's notorious for switching up the rules. Bringing Mocha Memoirs back to life is the goal, but navigating this partnership with Jake is going to be like tap-dancing in a minefield—thrilling, but one wrong step could be disastrous.
"We'll need to work out the specifics, of course," Jake says, his business-like tone not quite masking the glint of excitement in his eyes. "But I think this could be great for both of us."
I nod, trying to mirror his professional demeanor while my mind races a mile a minute. "Absolutely. Great for business, great for the community." And potentially a complete disaster for my peace of mind, but I keep that thought firmly to myself.
As Jake prepares to leave, he pauses at the door, turning back to face me. In his hand, he holds a set of keys, which he dangles with a half-smirk that's both infuriating and somehow endearing.
"Before I forget," he says, stepping closer to hand them over. "The keys to your future empire, or at least, a part of it."
I reach out, our fingers brushing as I take the keys. The contact sends a jolt through me, a mix of annoyance and something else I'm not quite ready to dissect. "Thanks," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'll make sure to change the locks as soon as you leave."
Jake chuckles, the sound low and resonant. "I'd expect nothing less. Just don't turn this place into a shrine to your coffee obsession."
I arch an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Oh, I plan to. Get ready for the best damn coffee lounge Cedarwood has ever seen."
The air between us is thick with unspoken words and a history that we're both tiptoeing around. There's a tension that's more than just two business rivals setting terms. It's a tension filled with what-ifs and maybes, with memories of a past that's still too present.
As Jake turns to leave, he gives me a look that's hard to read. It's a mixture of challenge and something softer, something that looks a lot like regret. "I have no doubt about it, Lucy. Just remember, we're partners in this. Equals."
I nod, feeling a surge of determination. "Partners. Right. But just so we're clear, Jake, I'm not going to let you steamroll over my ideas. This is my turf."
He grins, a flash of the old Jake I used to know. "Wouldn't dream of it. See you around, partner."
With that, he steps out, the door closing with a soft click that sounds final, yet also like a beginning. I stand there for a moment, the keys in my hand feeling heavy with significance. This isn't just a new business venture; it's a dance with the past, a step into a future that's uncertain and exhilarating.
I look around the empty space, now mine to transform. The challenge is daunting, but I've never been one to back down. Especially not when Jake Rogers is involved.
As I lock up and step out into the fading light, a plan begins to form in my mind. Mocha Memoirs is about to be reborn—kind of—and with it, a new chapter in my life. A chapter where I call the shots, where I bring my dream back to life. And if that means butting heads with Jake Rogers, so be it.
Let the games begin.
12
Jake
TheicerinkinCedarwood is alive with the sounds of laughter and the scraping of skates against the slick surface. It's a typical Saturday morning, and I'm out here with Carter and my parents for a bit of family fun. There's something about the rink that always feels like coming home, a throwback to my own childhood and hockey days.
"Alright, buddy, just keep your knees bent like this," I instruct Carter, demonstrating a basic skating stance. He's wobbling on his skates, his little face screwed up in concentration.
"Like this, Daddy?" Carter asks, trying to mimic my stance. He's a bit unsteady, but he's got the determination of a pro.
"Exactly like that!" I encourage him, holding his hands for balance. "You're a natural, just like your old man."
Carter beams at the praise, his earlier apprehension replaced by excitement. We make our way slowly around the rink, me offering a steady hand and words of encouragement.
