Page 2 of Meant For Love

“Letter thingies?” Grace asks before I get a chance.

“Yeah, like ttyl or byob or iykyk.” He throws up his hands. “All these fucking alphabets.”

I can’t help but laugh at the last one. “That last one took you a whole five minutes of thinking before you pulled out your phone.”

“More like thirty. He fought the hard fight.” She grabs his face and kisses his lips. “You’re perf.” She abbreviates the word perfect, knowing it irks him.

“You know it’s one more syllable,” he mumbles as she shakes her head and stands. “It’s not so hard.”

“Before your brother irritates me even more this morning,” Grace says, “I have a list of names of people I think you guys should reach out to.”

I walk past the waiting area; the receptionist’s desk is empty, and the chair is pushed in under her desk. Making my way down the corridor on the left-hand side, where the offices are, I go into the first one. “Send me the list of names, and I’ll go over them,” I tell her, walking to my desk and putting down my protein shake. “I’ll set something up with a couple of them this week, and we can meet and see who we mesh well with.”

“Mesh well with?” Caine says. “Does that mean who has experience enough to do the job?”

“It’s something like that.” I pull out my chair and sit down, turning on my computer. “You also have to ensure we’re all on the same page. It’s about experience and also about who vibes well with your company.”

“That’s what mesh well with means.” Grace looks over at him, smiling. “In case you didn’t get it.”

“I got it,” he snaps, and her eyebrows go up in a warning of sorts.

“Okay, Batman,” she huffs. “Now if you will excuse me, I have an email to send out.”

She storms away from him as I smirk at the phone. “I don’t know a lot of things about relationships, but something tells me she didn’t like your tone.”

“This is all your fault.” He points at me.

“My fault?” I put my hand to my chest. “How did this become my fault? I was minding my own business when you called me to give me more work,” I continue when the sound of pinging comes from my computer with the emails coming in. I notice the top email is from Grace. I click on the email and see the names she told me about. I scan the list of names. “Why isn’t Zoey Richards on this list?”

Caine laughs. “You think Zoey Richards is going to work for us? That’s like an HR nightmare. No way would you be able to keep your dick in your pants.”

“Um, excuse me?” I look at him. “I’m not the one who banged my assistant.”

“She’s my wife.”

“She was not your wife when you banged her the first time.” I laugh. “Besides, I think I can control myself.”

“You think?”

I shrug. “I mean, if she throws herself at me, I’m not going to say no.” I wink at him. The minute I met Zoey Richards two years ago was the first time you could say I believed in love at first sight. She took my breath away. If someone asked me to paint a picture of my dream girl, it would be Zoey. From her strawberry-blond hair to her almond-shaped green-gray eyes to the soft freckles that span over her nose. To her amazing smile that just lights up her face, fuck, she’s fucking gorgeous. To top it all off, she’s smart, she’s sassy, and apparently, according to everyone around me when we met, she’s totally off-fucking-limits.

“That right there.” Caine’s voice disrupts my daydream about Zoey on the beach wearing her bikini while she smiles at me. “That look right there is why we can’t hire her.”

“What look?” I try to act like my cock didn’t just get hard remembering her face.

“The look where your eyeballs turn into hearts and bounce in and out of your sockets.”

I pfft. “Would it be better if I was a condescending prick to her on her first day?” I throw the first day he met Grace in his face. “Would that be better?” I don’t even wait for him to answer. “Let me call her and see if she’s even taking new clients.” He just glares at me. “For all I know, you’re getting your panties in a twist for nothing.”

“Nash, I’m not kidding on this.” His tone is very much like a father would use to tell his kids that he was done playing around.

“Aye aye, cappy,” I say, saluting him. “Now if you will excuse me, some of us have to get the day rolling.” I don’t bother waiting for him to disconnect before I pull up her number on my phone, opting to text her in case she’s in the Pacific Time Zone.

Me: Hey, Zoey, I have a question for you. Call me when you get a chance.

Two

Zoey

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