Meant For Love, page 6
part #1 of Meant For Series
“You can’t go like that.” He points at me, and I look down at my chosen dress.
“Why not?” I smooth down the front of the dress. “It’s so pretty.”
“It’s just too much.” I look down at myself as I pick up the little clutch purse that holds my phone and lip gloss. “Ugh, it’s going to be a long night.”
I watch him turn and walk to the door, noticing he’s wearing a black suit with a matching black shirt. “I need a drink,” I finally say, “since this is officially off the clock.”
He laughs as we walk toward the gala. “People are turning their heads looking at you.”
“They are not,” I mumble as we get to the reception, where I snag a glass of champagne and take a sip, the bubbles exploding on my tongue. “Refreshing.”
“Nash.” Our heads both turn when we hear his name and see a man approaching. “I was hoping to catch you here.” He extends his hand. “I loved your speech,” he says to him, and I smile at him proudly. Even though I didn’t know what he meant, his speech was fantastic.
“Thank you,” Nash says. “This is Zoey Richards.” He turns to me, introducing me.
“Your new lady,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Not his new lady. We work together.” I smile, wondering if he’s ever brought a woman to this event.
“That’s a shame,” the man says. “If I was younger…” I can’t help but laugh.
“You are too kind,” I say. “I’m sure you bat away the women with your charm.” I look at him and then at Nash, who looks at me with a smile.
“I wish,” he replies, looking at Nash. “You should fire this woman and then date her.”
“Now, that is a great idea!” he declares. The man smiles at me, giving me a wink, and walks away.
I wait for the man to leave and finish my glass before I get the nerve to ask him, “How many women have you brought to this event? Every single time we meet someone, they ask you if I’m the newer model.”
“One, they have not asked you that every single time.” He turns to look around. “And the answer to your question is not many.” He avoids looking at me. “Some I was dating at the time. Some I was testing the waters with.”
“So you’re a serial dater?” I laugh as a server walks around with another tray of champagne. I put my empty glass on it before taking a full one.
“Not really a serial dater.” He waits for the man to walk away before he speaks. “I just haven’t found the one who I want to spend more time with.” I stare into his eyes. “I need someone who will keep me on my toes. Someone beautiful and kind.” I take a sip of champagne, well, more like half the glass. “Someone who, I don’t know, drinks matcha.”
I about choke on my champagne when he says that before he takes me to our table for the meal. He pulls out the chair for me, and I sit down as he sits beside me. “Would you like white or red?” the server beside me asks.
“White, please,” I say to him and then look over at Nash, who shakes his head. “You aren’t a wine drinker?”
“I don’t mind wine. I’m just not feeling it,” he explains as I lift my glass of wine and take a sip.
“What do you feel like having?” The minute I ask the question, I hold up my hand. “Don’t answer that,” I say, taking another sip of wine.
He leans into me, and I swear I hold my breath when I smell him beside me and then feel his breath on my ear. “You ruin all the fun.” I turn my head, and we are so close to each other it’s making it hard to think.
Two things happen at the same time. Someone calls him away, and my purse buzzes in my lap. He pushes away from the table, walking over to the man. My phone buzzes a second time. I pull it out to see it’s from Josh.
Josh: I miss you.
Josh: When are you getting back? We need to talk.
I’m about to answer him when I see he commented on my Instagram post two hours ago when I took a picture of the fountains. I click on his picture and see he uploaded a story ten minutes ago, where he was in a club between two girls. “Asshole,” I mutter to myself and put my phone away. Yeah, he misses me, my ass. I finish the glass of champagne, turning and seeing Nash coming to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I just shake my head. “You went from happy to sad in the amount of time I left to say hello to a couple of people and come back.”
I think about lying to him and playing it off, but I’m annoyed and pissed. “Why can’t men who say they want to be in a committed relationship show they want a committed relationship instead of acting like he’s a single man?” I look at him.
“Did you not hear what I said before? I’m searching for that same thing.” He chuckles. “I’m also the last person you should ask that question to.” I take a deep inhale. “But I will say that if I perhaps had someone”—he smirks at me—“someone I’ve wanted for a really long time, there would be no question about how committed I would be.”
I listen to him say the words and feel the back of my neck burn before I laugh nervously, not sure what to say. “That would be one lucky girl.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even stop them. “We should do shots.”
He looks at me, his eyebrows going up. “This could be interesting.”
“We should take a shot every time someone says something about the girls you’ve dated. I’d be drunk for sure.” I laugh, my head feeling a little tipsy.
“What about you and the boyfriend?” he asks, and I reach for my wine. “Is the situation still the same?”
“Not my boyfriend,” I correct him before I take a sip of my wine, “per se. We are on a break.” I smile. “And not like a Rachel and Ross break, a real break.” I put my glass down. “Like you do your thing, let me do mine.”
He watches me, his eyes going dark. “We should take a shot every single time someone says equity.”
“Oh, good one.” I point at him. “Very, very good.” I clap my hands. “This is shaping up to be a really fun night.”
He tilts his head to the side, puts his hand on the back of my chair, and smirks. “The night’s just starting, Zoey.”
Seven
Nash
I watch her eyes move back and forth, her cheeks turning a little pink. “We should eat before we start taking shots,” she suggests. “Otherwise you might be carrying me home over your shoulder.”
I turn to her. “If that’s the case, I say finish that glass of wine so I can carry you home with me.” I lean in, hearing her breath hitch. “Except I only have the key to my room, so you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”
“I have the key in my purse.” She about stumbles the words out.
“It would be rude of me to go into your purse.” I move back to my seat as the chairs around us start to fill up. I look over at her in that fucking dress that had me hard the minute I fucking saw her in it. It hugs every single curve on her body, and being strapless, I have to wonder if she’s wearing a bra, which makes it really fucking uncomfortable in my pants.
“I think I would be able to crawl back to my room,” she states, and I raise my eyebrows.
“You on your hands and knees,” I tease, picking up my glass of water, “that’s something I’ve envisioned before.”
“Nash,” she says my name and laughs. “Rules.”
“Broke the minute you opened the door in that dress,” I mumble to her. She doesn’t have a chance to say anything to me as the woman beside her compliments her dress. They put the plate of steak down in front of me, and I’ve never wanted to finish a meal faster in my life. The meal goes quickly with the closing speeches, then everyone slowly gets up.
“Where to now?” she asks, looking at me as she grabs her purse.
“To the bar.” I motion with my head to the left. I put my hand on her back, laying claim to her. If anyone is looking her way, they will know she’s with me. When we get to one of the bars, a couple of men stand at the counter with a couple more coming up behind us. “What do you want to drink?”
“Tequila,” she says. “If we are taking shots and you aren’t backing down.”
“Trust me, Zoey, once I start in on something, I never, ever back down.” I wink at her as I give the bartender a chin up. “Two shots of tequila,” I order, then look around at a couple of people. “Anyone else?”
“We should,” one of the guys near me states. “After four days, we deserve it.”
“I agree,” Zoey adds, trying not to burst out laughing. “It was a good time.”
“Lots of equity talk,” one of the guys adds, and I look over at her as she holds up a finger.
We take a shot of tequila, and she chases it with a sip of water. “What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll have a vodka with a splash of soda water.”
I turn back to order the drinks before I put my hand on her hip to lean in and whisper in her ear, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, “I’m having more fun than I thought I would.”
“It’s the equity,” I joke, and she throws her head back and laughs. My lips tingle to lean forward and kiss her neck. I’ve never seen this side of her. Well, to be honest, she’s always run away from me the minute she’s had a chance. But now, having spent the past week with her, I am able to admit that everything I thought about when I met her was the truth.
The bartender returns with her drink, my glass of scotch, and two shots of tequila. She pulls away from her conversation with one of the wives to smirk at me. “Are you going to say equity just to get me to drink?”
“No, I’m going to say equity so I get to carry you to my bed.” I wink at her and hold up my glass for her to clink on it. I down the shot, and she winces when she downs hers before she takes a sip of her vodka.
We stand side by side at the bar with a couple of people around us. I’m having one conversation on my right while she is having a conversation on her side. Her laughter makes me look over at her as she turns her head and laughs on my shoulder. I see the man from before, and he is holding up his hand. “I said what I said, and I’m not taking it back.” Zoey turns back to him, and with her being so close to my arm, I wrap it around her waist to get her closer to me. “So are you going to work with me?”
“My calendar is full,” she says to him, “but I have your business card, and if something opens up, you are the first one on the list.”
“That’s what they all say.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his bourbon. “But you, girlie, I believe you.”
“She doesn’t lie,” I cut in to the conversation. “Not even a white lie.”
“You need to convince her to come work for me,” he urges, and I shake my head.
“Not a chance in hell I’m letting this one out of my sight.”
“I thought she wasn’t your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” I turn to her and wink. “She’s her own girl, but she’s also my employee, so technically, she’s mine.”
“Smart man,” he says and walks away.
“Nice save.” She looks at me and takes a sip of her drink. “Also, I am my own girl.”
“Do you want to sit?” I ask, pointing at an empty table in the back. Two cushioned chairs face a small round table.
“Sure.” She walks away from me toward the table. She sits down on one of the cushions, and I sit next to her, but I move the table farther away from us so I can scoot my chair closer to her.
“I don’t want this night to end,” I admit as I take a sip of my scotch, putting my ankle on my knee.
“It has to end sometime,” she says softly as she puts her purse on the table in front of her but leans back into the cushion, looking at me.
“Does it?” I ask. I would make a deal with the devil not to have this night end and we both stay exactly where we are.
“Yes, yes, it does.” She turns a little toward me.
“What would your boyfriend say if he knew you were here with me?” Every single time I mention this guy, I hate him more and more, and I’ve never even fucking met him. But I know I’m jealous he’s had her for the past two years.
“One.” She takes a sip of her drink, and I see she’s a bit nervous. “He’s not technically my boyfriend. We are still trying to figure things out.” Even though she’s saying the words, she’s not convinced of it. I give her a minute to take another sip of her drink. “I mean, I know what I want, but after two years, you would think he would have it figured out already.”
I look into her eyes, the promises unspoken. “What do you want?” I ask her the loaded question. I wait, my heart hammering in my chest, my tongue heavy in my mouth to promise to give her everything she has ever wanted even though I don’t know what that is.
“I don’t really know.” She finishes her drink and leans forward to put the empty glass on the table in front of her. “No, forget that,” she quickly adds. “I know exactly what I want. I want the whole fucking thing.” Her hands are animated when she’s talking, and I want to take one of them and hold it in mine after I kiss it to get her to relax. “I want to marry a man who has my back and supports my career. A man who is proud of me and who I’m proud of. A house with a white picket fence”—she rolls her eyes—“which sounds dumb.”
“It doesn’t sound dumb,” I say softly, taking a gulp of my scotch, but she doesn’t even hear me. She just continues talking.
“I want two point five kids.” I roll my lips to stop laughing at her, knowing she would probably glare at me, but with all my drinks, it escapes me, and she glares at me.
“Baby, you can’t have two point five kids.”
“I mean, I want to have two kids and be pregnant with another. And you know what?”
“I’m all ears.” I reach out my hand and put it on her leg, expecting her to toss it off, but she’s so worked up over this that she either doesn’t notice or is okay with it.
“When I have kids, I want to be a stay-at-home wife. I want to put my career on the back burner while I become the PTA president or whatever it is they are called. I want to go on field trips and drive them to school and pick them up. I want to be there when they have horrible days because a kid was being mean to them, and I’m not too afraid to say I’ll go toe-to-toe with their mother if they pick on my kids.” She’s so fucking gorgeous that I can’t say a word. “I want to be there when they have the best day and have them tell me all about it. I want to do all of those things. That’s what I want. I also want a man who will be okay with me staying home and doing that and not look down at it, thinking it’s going to be a walk in the park. I want a healthy sex life.” She shrugs. “You know, the basics.”
“Then you should marry me.” I say the words I’ve wanted to say to her since the first time I met her, and she smiled at me. “I don’t know if I can give you all of that, but I know I can give you the whole picture in color, and what I can’t give you I’m going to bust my ass to give you.” Her mouth gapes open. “I will give you the white picket fence, the two point five babies. You can stay home, work part-time, whatever you want to do, you do, but I want to go on the record by saying that I want an above-average, healthy sex life.”
I wait for her to say something, and her laughter fills the bar. “Yeah, right.”
I sit up, putting my glass on the table beside hers, turning to her, my hand slipping off her lap. “I’m one thousand percent serious right now. Marry me, Zoey.”
“No way.” She sits up, not turning to me, her head moving side to side as if she can’t believe what I’m saying. “Are you crazy?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” I tell her the truth, my heart hammering in my chest as I make the biggest deal of my life. “Marry me.” I see her hand shaking a bit as she stares at me. “Come on, Zoey, it’ll be fun.”
She pffts at me, but I move closer to her, my hand coming up to touch her face. My thumb rubs over her cheek like I’ve done a million times in my head. “Come on, Zoey, live a little,” I urge, getting closer to her, our knees touching each other. “Make all my dreams come true, and then watch me make yours come true.” I put my forehead to hers. I’ve never even kissed this woman, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. “Marry me.” She puts her hand on my wrist, her touch soaring through my body. “What do you say, Zoey, will you marry me?”
I don’t know how long I wait. I don’t even know if I’m breathing. I don’t know how many people are around us. I don’t hear the slot machines or the laughter from nearby people. I don’t see anything but her eyes turning a soft green gray, and I don’t hear anyone’s voice but hers when she whispers, “Okay.”
Eight
Nash
It’s as if the room around us comes to a standstill, or at least that’s what it feels like. I hear myself breathing, or better yet panting. I swear I hear every single thump of my heart beating as I wait for her answer. Willing her to say yes, silently begging her to say yes. Praying to whoever is listening to me or looking down at all the sinners in Vegas. One beat, two beats, three beats, and I see her lick her lips, and then as if the gates of heaven open and angels start to sing, she whispers, “Okay.”
The heart beating in my chest soars, and I move my head to the side, slamming my mouth down on hers. Her mouth parts in shock, making it easy for my tongue to slide into her mouth, and when it does, it’s as if I’m soaring. Her tongue hungrily twirls with mine as we both take what the other is giving. My hands never leave her face, and I angle my head to the side to deepen the kiss. Her hands come out to grip the lapels of my jacket, pulling me toward her. If we weren’t in the middle of a busy bar, I would have pulled her on top of me. I rub my nose with hers as I disengage from the kiss. Her eyes flutter open as I see her lips are wet, making me lean in and suck the lower one into my mouth while my tongue comes back out to invade her mouth for a second time before I let the kiss go again. Her eyes remain closed for a good two seconds before she opens them. “We have to go.” She stares at me as I drop my hands from her face and pull the phone out of my pocket. “Let’s go.”
