Page 4 of Meant For Love

My head literally spins at his message. Nash and I met a couple of years ago when he crashed one of our family vacations. He tagged along with his brother, Caine, who had just married into Matty’s, my cousin, in-laws’ family. To say I spotted him right away would be the understatement of the year. He had one of the best bodies I’ve ever seen, and most of the men in my family play professional hockey, so I’ve seen my share of good bodies. But it was his crystal-blue eyes that were mesmerizing. I could picture myself just being sucked into them. I won’t even tell you about the number of tats all over his arms. The minute he shook my hand, I got butterflies in my stomach, which I thought was the stupidest thing ever. Then I did what any normal woman would do when they meet the hottest man they’ve ever set eyes on—I avoided him the rest of the vacation. Over the years, we’ve passed each other once or twice, and each time, I’ve tried not to spend any time with him. But every time I’m around him, I’m drawn to him, which I try to one thousand percent ignore.

“What are you doing?” Zara’s voice makes me blink my eyes a couple of times. “You look like you’ve spaced out.”

“Yeah, I just got a message is all. I have to get to work.”

“Okay, well, if you need me to come over and bring Chinese food, just say the word.” She smiles at me. “We can make a voodoo doll and stick needles in his junk.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “That actually sounds like fun. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you,” she says, disconnecting.

I look down at the text again, reading it for the second time. He has a question for me. “What does that even mean?” I tap the table around the phone, wondering if I should even answer him. I don’t think he’s ever texted me since he took my number down the first night I met him.

I’m about to say something else when my phone pings loudly with another text, and I see it’s from him. I about jump out of my chair and duck for cover, like he’s right in front of me instead of in my phone.

Nash: Just in case you are wondering who it is. It’s Nash.

I shake my head at his second text.

Me: Who?

I press send and wait for the bubble to come up, letting me know he’s texting me, but instead, my phone rings with his name flashing across the top. Nash Griffin. Why does seeing his name excite me?

I think about sending it to voicemail, but I just literally responded to him.

I slide my finger across the bottom of the screen. “Hello,” I answer and close my eyes for sounding too cheerful, like I’m happy he called.

“Well, well, well…” I hear his smooth voice across the phone, and I can picture his smirk as he talks to me. “If it isn’t the Zoey Richards.” I literally bite my lip not to smile but then fail.

“Well, well, well.” I smile. “If it isn’t the Nash Griffin.” I play his game. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Griffin?”

“Oh, I like that,” he says. “You need to call me Mr. Griffin more often.” I roll my eyes. “Heck, I’d take you saying more than fifty words to me before you avoid the shit out of me.”

I open my mouth in shock, looking down at the phone in the middle of my desk. “I do not avoid you.” I can’t believe he caught the game I was playing. I mean, I wasn’t really playing the game, but still he actually realized what I was doing.

“Really?” He stops talking for a second. “Interesting.”

I want to be not interested, nothing about this is interesting, but instead, I go on the defense. “Is this the question you had to ask me?”

“It is not.” He chuckles. “I was calling because I need to discuss something with you.”

“With me?” I ask, shocked. “What would you need to discuss with me?” My heart speeds up from a soft beat to a full-blown thumping.

“Caine and I were thinking of updating our social media and making it less…” He trails off as he thinks of a word, so I help him out.

“Dry?” I fill in the blank.

“It’s finance. It doesn’t get drier than that,” he jokes with me. “But we need someone who can revamp the website and do some social media for us.”

“Okay.” I lean back in my chair in my home office. “And you want me to do it for you?”

“Well, you always go with the best in the business, so yes, we want you to do it.”

“You don’t even know what I do.” I stare down at the phone, watching the time go by, telling me how long we’ve been on the call.

“I know that you do public relations for all, if not most, of your family’s social media accounts,” he replies. “I know you have single-handedly turned three companies’ PR nightmares into yesterday’s news, and not one person even brings up the shit they got in trouble for.” This man just shocks the shit out of me. “Now, do you want me to give you names, or are we good?”

I tap the table in front of me. “We’re good.”

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