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When I walk through the double doors leading out to the pool, I find a rather large man standing in front of a gate holding a clipboard. Beside him is a sandwich board letting outsiders know what’s inside of that gate is a private party, and music blares from the pool. There are a bunch of people in there, both male and female, and they all seem to be having a good time.
“Name?” the large man asks.
“Grace Newman, but I’m probably not on your list,” I say. “I'm here to see Spencer Nash.”
“Yeah, you and twenty other women,” he grunts. He’s not very nice. “Get in line.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, but thankfully I’m wearing sunglasses so he can’t see. “Excuse me?”
“If you're not on the list, I can't let you in.” He’s firm as he taps the clipboard with his pen.
“But I need to talk to Spencer! I flew all this way just to see—”
He interrupts me. “No name, no entry.”
I glance around him toward the pool area to see if I can spot Spencer to somehow get his attention, but instead, I see Lincoln Nash, Spencer's oldest brother.
“Lincoln Nash!” I yell from where I stand.
“What the hell are you doing?” the large, mean man with the clipboard asks.
“Getting in to see Spencer, like I said,” I say calmly to him, and then I yell again. “Lincoln! Over here!”
“You need to get out,” he says, pointing toward the doors back into the building.
“Lincoln!” I scream one more time.
The mean man grabs a walkie-talkie and presses a button. “Additional security needed by the pool.”
Lincoln must’ve heard my last attempt because he glances up and spots me. There's no recognition there, but why would there be? I've never met him.
He walks over toward the gate. As soon as he gets close enough, I start to yell even though the large man tries to block my view of him.
“Lincoln! I’m Grace Newman, a friend of Spencer’s. Is he here? I need to talk to him.”
Just as Lincoln opens his mouth to reply, I hear a voice behind me. “Newman?”
I whip around at the sound of my last name.
Only one person calls me that.
My jaw drops as I spot Spencer Nash wearing just a pair of navy blue swim trunks, slides on his feet, sunglasses on his face, a backward hat, and what almost reminds me of one of those shirts with fake abs painted on them because there is no way in hell that body is real.
“Nash! Thank God,” I say, forcing my eyes off his abs. I rush over and throw my arms around his neck. “I'm not on the list, and this man was about to kick me out, but—"
“What are you doing here?” he interrupts, sliding his hand around my waist for a quick hug.
I ignore the heat of his skin as I back away. “I need to talk to you.” My eyes flick to his abs again.
Focus, Gracie.
Focus.
Abs.
Focus.
“Okay,” he says. “Come on in.”
