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“That doesn’t sound like you.” Becca frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aren’t you the one who always says everyone deserves a shot at love? That a life shared is better than going at it alone?”
“I guarantee you that the man currently standing outside this office is not looking for love.”
“You don’t know that. He might be.” Becca pouts.
I almost feel guilty for bursting her bubble, but I’d rather kill any illusion she might have of us adding the Boston Guardians’ player to our roster now than kindle the flame of hope I see twinkling in my assistant’s gaze.
He’s here because Piper always gets what she wants.
Finding love has nothing to do with it.
“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? I have real clients that need our help.”
Becca stares at me in both confusion and disappointment.
Understandably so.
The whole reason why I even started this company was to help people find love in a world that has become jaded with the concept. One of the first rules of matchmaking is to never pass judgment on anyone. People from all walks of life seek my services because of one fundamental truth that links us together—everyone is worthy of love.
Sure, not every case is the same, and each individual is different, but that’s a good thing. Our differences are what make us unique and one of a kind. It’s also true that I haven’t liked every single client that has passed through Love Moore’s doors, but that never stopped me from helping them as best as I could in their quest to find love.
So why am I already dismissing Piper’s client?
Putting up barriers when I haven’t even met the man yet?
It’s those damn eyes of his.
They say too much without uttering a word.
“Just hear him out, Lottie. You never know. He might surprise you,” Becca adds, always the hopeful romantic. “Please.”
I offer her a warm smile and nod.
“I’ll do my very best,” I retort. “You can let him in now, Becca.”
She reciprocates my smile with a beaming one of her own before turning around to fetch our illustrious guest.
I get up from my seat and walk to the front of my desk, leaning on its edge for support. I force myself to plant a welcoming smile on my face and try to give Nathan the benefit of the doubt.
Besides, if this meeting goes sideways, Piper will not be happy.
And my best friend doesn’t do well when things don’t go her way.
She loves me too much for me to get the brunt of her wrath. But Nathan? Well, let’s just say, for his sake, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes if this meeting goes awry.
When I hear Becca’s cordial voice asking him to come in, my smile widens, thankful that she took my plea to heart about keeping things professional.
I, on the other hand, fail miserably at taking my own advice.
Nothing could have prepared me for the man that walks into my office.
I’ve never been a hockey enthusiast, nor interested in any type of sport, really, but watching Nathan Wilder fill up a room, I can definitely see the appeal of why so many people go to his games just to watch him in his element.
Even with the hundred square footage of this office, it still feels too stifling and minuscule to accommodate such a large presence. At a good three inches over six feet, he takes up all the space in the room, sucking the very oxygen out of it. His wavy chestnut hair droops just a little over his light hazel eyes with each step he takes in my direction. Possessing a strong square jaw, marble-sculpted cheekbones, and a body that looks as hardas his stiff smile, I can’t help but compare his characteristics to that of a Greek god.
And not the usual romantic Adonis version, either.
More like Ares, the god of war.
