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Betting the Bad Boy
by Stefanie London

Copyright © 2017 by Stefanie London. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Noah Reid looked despairingly at what could have been a perfectly decent latte, but instead resembled the creation of a manic toddler. There were two shots of vanilla syrup, a shot of hazelnut syrup, and more sprinkles than should be legal on something that wasn’t fairy bread.

“What the hell is that?” Paul Chapman peered over the counter with a look halfway between confusion and horror.

“A cupcake latte.” Noah dumped the sugary monstrosity down the drain. “I shit you not.”

The sprinkles released their dye on contact with the water in the bottom of the sink, making it look like a unicorn had vomited.

“I don’t even know what to say.” Paul leaned against the bar and shook his head. “What did you ask her to do?”

“The same thing I’ve been asking all of the other candidates—make me their specialty.” Noah scratched the back of his head. “The sprinkles were out because Libby had been experimenting with that confetti martini recipe.”

Paul grinned at the mention of his fiancée. “I’ll tell her to be more careful with locking up her ingredients next time.”

“Do that.” Grabbing the nozzle, Noah washed the rainbow water down the drain and wiped the sink with a piece of paper towel. “But I’m considering giving this girl the job because she was by far the best person I’ve interviewed.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, the first guy almost burned himself on the steaming wand.” Noah had intervened as soon as he’d noticed and likely saved the guy from a nasty injury. “The second person argued with me that the correct pronunciation of espresso included an x.”

“Did you tell them an expresso is a fast train, not a coffee?” Paul shook his head, laughing.

“The next guy seemed promising…until I called his old boss. Turns out he lasted three months and then was ‘asked to leave’ after repeatedly hitting on one of the female staff members.”

“So Cupcake Latte Girl might get the job?” Paul nodded slowly. “What will Des say about that? I can guess, considering we had to argue with him to even stock the syrups in the first place. He thinks sweet coffee is an abomination.”

“It is. If customers want some pumpkin spice bullshit they can go elsewhere,” Noah grumbled.

“That’s the difference between you and Des, mate. He saw the extra income and was happy to eat his words,” Paul pointed out. “That’s commercial thinking.”

“So what you’re saying is that he doesn’t stick by his principles like I do?”

Paul chuckled. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Well, unless this last person is a winner, we’ve got our girl.”

“You’ll just have to hide the sprinkles, no big deal. It’ll work out—Des trusts your judgment.”

Des Chapman was Paul’s older brother and the owner of First, the bar-slash-restaurant where they both worked. The three of them were best friends and they formed the entirety of the First management team: Des oversaw the operations and finances, Paul managed the bar, and Noah was the head barista who also inducted and trained the new hires. But Des was currently sunning it up on a babymoon in Hawaii with his wife, Gracie. And since Paul was knee-deep getting his mixology school off the ground, Noah had stepped into Des’s shoes to play boss for a month.

But the next four weeks were about more than Noah keeping the lights on in Des’s absence. It was a test. An opportunity for something more. Soon Des would expand his business with a second location, and he’d been dropping hints that he wanted Noah to manage it. But that meant expectation, and the need to make a decision weighed heavily on his shoulders. Because working for Des making coffees and training staff was one thing. He made enough to be totally self-reliant, which was priority number one. And he loved his job—loved working with the new hires who were always excited, loved teaching people how to improve their skills, loved chatting with his regular customers.

But running a venue—with all the admin, longer hours, and extra responsibilities—was a level of commitment that already made him feel boxed in…and he hadn’t even said yes. Not to mention the fact that his first task of hiring a barista was proving to be more difficult than it should be. But that would all be part of his job permanently if he said yes.

Noah reached for a bag of coffee beans to refill the hopper, shrugging off his internal debate. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Libby wants to practice the recipes for our mixology class.”

“You’re going to sit at home and get drunk.” Noah laughed. “You’re already an old married couple.”

While Des had always been the commitment type, Noah and Paul had been on the same page about relationships for years. Long-term wasn’t something they wanted—too much opportunity for disappointment. But Paul had changed his mind thanks to a feisty redhead who was his fake fiancée turned real fiancée. Which left Noah without a wingman.

“And I suppose you’ll be on the prowl?” Paul said with a knowing grin.

“I’m the last man standing. Someone has to keep the legacy alive.”

“You do that, mate,” Paul said, checking his phone and then shoving it into his back pocket. “Have you got the roster ready for next week? I want to make sure we have extra hands on deck, just in case.”

“I’ll get to it this afternoon,” Noah said with a sigh. “We really need to fill this vacancy. I can’t do both jobs.”

“Fifth time’s the charm, right?” Paul said with a grin. “You never know, the perfect barista might be about to walk right through the door.”

…

Paige Thomas leaned against the side of an office building in South Melbourne, taking a moment to collect herself before she headed home. Another rejection had been added to her growing pile. Another failure. Another reminder of her mother’s words.

Be careful, or the city will chew you up and spit you out.

“Who the hell do I have to flash to get a job around here?” she muttered.

As she walked down the main street in South Melbourne, she couldn’t help but admire her surroundings. It was a gorgeous summer day—hot and sunny with a hint of a cool breeze. Trams whizzed past, their distinctive bells cutting through the late-afternoon air. Since it was a Friday, people lingered in the outdoor dining spaces that dotted the street. Music flowed from the open windows of a pub, the lyrics punctuated by the sound of laughter and clinking beer bottles. Everyone was happy, carefree. Except for Paige—because she was, as usual, stressing about her future.

She hadn’t even been given a chance with this last interview. Five minutes in, the HR person admitted he’d already offered the position to someone else. But instead of calling her, he hadn’t wanted to “waste her time” by calling off the interview last minute. She didn’t have the energy to point out that allowing her to spend time getting ready for a worthless interview was even more a waste of her time.

Trying to find an accounting job in Melbourne was proving more challenging than she’d anticipated. Everyone wanted years of experience for minimal pay, which would be fine if rent didn’t cost a fortune. Then, there was the dilemma of how to address the growing gap between now and her last job back home.

Paige wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that even with her degree, near-perfect marks, and experience these city folk didn’t think she was worth their time. Or the fact that she was going to have to tell her friend Sally that she wouldn’t be moving off her couch anytime soon.

The thought of another night sleeping on that damn couch with Sally’s evil cat stalking her every move was enough to bring tears of frustration to her eyes. But she balled her fists and shook the bad feelings away. She was a Thomas. And Thomas women didn’t cry. They succeeded, no matter what.

As if conjured by her imagination, Sally’s number flashed on her phone. “Hey.”

“How did it go?” Music played in the background, and Paige imagined her best friend bobbing her head to the beat as she worked. “Tell me we have a reason to crack open the champagne. Well, we have a reason, actually. But I’m hoping there might be two reasons.”

“Why are we cracking open the champagne?” Paige jabbed the button at the pedestrian crossing a little harder than was necessary. “Did you land a new client?”

“Travis asked me to move in with him.” Sally squealed. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew things were going well, but…you never know. But now I do.”

“That’s great, Sal. I’m so happy for you.” Paige tried not to be that friend who immediately asked, “But what about me,” although in this case Sally’s decision to move in with her boyfriend had more than a superficial impact. “How much notice do you have to give?”

“A month, and my lease was up in two anyway.” Pause. “I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to hear, and I feel terrible not being able to have you crash for longer.”

“Stop it. You’ve been more than generous.” Paige sighed. “It’s not your fault I managed to screw my life into the ground. I wasn’t planning to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. The couch is yours until the second the movers pick it up.”

Paige swallowed against the lump in the back of her throat. “I didn’t think it would take this long to find another job.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been a month, Sal. A whole freaking month.”

Technically it was closer to five weeks since Paige had lost her dream job at a Big Four accounting firm. She hadn’t even made it past her probation period…which meant it would do more damage on her résumé than off. Hence the big, ugly gap in her employment history.

Now she had nothing—no apartment, no income, and only a sliver of pride. And as of next month, there wouldn’t even be a couch to crash on. Paige had already broadened her search to include jobs that were well beneath her experience level…and yet she still couldn’t get hired.

“You’ll get there.” Sally’s voice was calm and soothing, but for once it didn’t help Paige’s stress levels. “I have full confidence in you.”

“I don’t know why.” Paige stepped onto the road and looked in both directions. She may not have been in Melbourne that long, but she’d already learned that drivers here had selective blindness when it came to red lights. “At this rate I’ll be heading home with my tail between my legs.”

“No.” Something clanged in the background as if Sally had slapped her hand down. “You are not going home. This is a bump in the road, but I refuse to let you go back there and work in a café when you have all this talent.”

“What talent?” She threw her free hand up in the air. “If I had any talent I’d be hired by now.”

“Who was the person that helped me get my small business loan? That was you, Paige. If you hadn’t set up all my spreadsheets and helped me with the forecasting I would never have been approved.”

She shook her head. “I did what any friend would have.”

“No, you didn’t. Because most friends wouldn’t know how to do the things you do. And…” Sally paused dramatically. “What about the time that contractor was charging me in duplicate? You figured that one out. And then there was that time you helped me find extra deductions so I didn’t have a huge bill at tax time. You saved my business.”

“That’s all great, but it doesn’t help me get a job now. How am I supposed to keep lying to my mother when she calls and asks how things are in the ‘big smoke’? I told them coming here was my dream and now it’s…” She sighed. “I feel like one of those awful movie clichés. Dumb country girl comes to the city and gets trampled on by all the successful, shiny people who have their shit together way more than I ever could.”

“Bloody hell, Paige. If you don’t have your shit together the rest of us are going down with you.” There was a laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s four o’clock and I haven’t even put pants on yet.”

A smile twitched on Paige’s lips. “Pants are not a success indicator.”

“Well that’s a relief. I hate pants.” Sally paused. “Look, you’re not going home. End of story. You’ll find something, I know it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Go and get a coffee,” Sally suggested. “Sit down outside, enjoy the weather, and chill out for once in your damn life. Stop being so bloody hard on yourself. Everything will feel better once you have some caffeine in you. And if you want to put a shot of something in it, I won’t tell anyone.”

Paige said good-bye and dropped the phone into her bag, groaning. As if her job hunt weren’t high-pressure enough, now she had a deadline. Her already dwindling savings would not accommodate rent unless she managed to get some money coming in. But even temp agencies weren’t interested—they were inundated with candidates, apparently. There was a skills glut and not enough jobs to go around. Stupid economy.

How much longer could she keep dipping into her savings? She had a roof over her head and a generous friend who kept her fed and watered. But that was only for the next four weeks. And besides, relying on someone else was no way to live. It went against everything Paige stood for.

Maybe you should go back home to the family business; at least then you wouldn’t be mooching off anyone.

Except that she would be. Kind of.

Her family owned a café in a small country town about twenty minutes from Echuca. The Thomases had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Originally farmers, her parents had expanded their business to include a café that served as a road stop for people passing through. It also housed a small produce section that served local items from family businesses in the area.

Since “local” had become trendy, they made decent money. In fact, her parents had been held up as pillars of their small community for attracting people to the town. Which made it even harder for them to understand why she didn’t want to be a part of that.

But Paige had a picture of success in her head. City living with a well-paying accounting job at an important firm. Career growth. A fancy apartment. A loving husband who looked amazing in a suit. Okay, so maybe her idea of success had been shaped by the movies. But regardless of the inspiration, when Paige decided she wanted something, she didn’t settle. She would have her perfect life…eventually.

Paige stopped at a corner where a blackboard advertised homemade pastries and good, strong coffee. Her eyes flickered up over the sign where the word First was written out in edgy, tattoo-like font. She’d heard about this place from one of Sally’s friends. Apparently, the guys who ran it were local heartthrobs. Well, she wasn’t above a side of eye candy with her coffee.

One drink, then she’d head home and get back to trying to find a job.