Statistically Improbable (Dating by Design Book 2)By: Jennifer Peel
“I can’t decide whether to be the maid of honor or best man for your wedding, Kenz.” Zander played with Kenadie’s hair in our weekly connection meeting.
I could see Kenadie’s annoyance mixed with a heavy dose of amusement. She was definitely happier since she had hung up those running shoes and let Jason catch her. They were planning a New Year’s Eve wedding two months from now. It was a short engagement —I’d never seen a groom more excited to tie the knot, but after Kenadie’s first attempt at walking down the aisle, she more than deserved the enthusiasm.
“As pretty as you would be in a dress, I think best man suits you, or at least semi-decent man.” Kenadie swatted Zander’s hand away.
Zander pretended to shove a knife in his heart with his pen. “Now, darlin’, that hurts. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be getting married.” Zander turned toward me and I felt that swoop in the pit of my stomach that I had been trying to ignore. “Meg, what do you think?”
I think that you should come over here and kiss me passionately, or at least ask me out. Make me your plus one at the wedding. All of the above. I knew, though, that it would never work, no matter how attracted I was to him. Kenadie didn’t have anything against inter-office dating, or at least there wasn’t a company policy regarding it, but her words rang in my head, Any match percentages that are thirty-five percent and below are considered statistically improbable. I had run Zander’s and my numbers and we were a big fat twenty-three percent. Not to mention he was a complete womanizer and still in love—or maybe half in love—with his best friend and Jason’s bride-to-be, Kenadie.
Zander flashed that gorgeous smile of his at me as he waited for me to reply.
All I wanted to do was stare into those unusually green eyes of his and get lost in them, but I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. “Definitely best man material.”
“I knew I liked you.” Zander grinned at me before turning back to Kenadie, smugly.
Yeah, I liked him, too—a little too much. I had since I’d first starting working here earlier in the year. When I was the receptionist—before I was promoted to a personal relationship manager—I would come in early to make sure I got to say good morning to him, even when I was dating Lucas. That probably should have said something to me long before Lucas broke up with me a few months ago. I tucked my dark, bobbed hair behind my ear and tried to focus on the meeting. We had forty couples to pair up. It was the most we’d had since my promotion. In just the few short months in my new position, we had gotten busier and busier. Kenadie recently hired another male relationship manager, Andy, to help take on more clients.
I looked around at all the portraits on the conference room wall, wishing mine and Zander’s were up there and that he would move his next to mine to claim me as his own. I sighed internally. I knew it was never happening. I didn’t even know why I wanted it to. He wasn’t the kind of man you brought home to meet your dad. He probably dated more women in a week than I had boyfriends in my twenty-six years of life. And I knew my small-town Wyoming upbringing didn’t match with his big-city Atlanta lifestyle. And though I’d been living in Georgia since I was eighteen, I still felt out of place here sometimes.
I made myself focus. It was easy since Zander had taken the stage again. He was arguing with Cara. “I’m telling you, Isabella and Derek aren’t a good match.”
“Their profiles have over a seventy percent compatibility rate.” Cara smirked at Zander.
Zander gave her his I-know-I’m-right smile. I had come to recognize it. And he did always seem to be right. Knowing people seemed to be his gift. Along with a hard body, strong jawline, perfectly styled chestnut hair, and those eyes. I wanted to get up close and gaze into them.
I shook my head.
Zander was verbalizing his comeback. “Now, darlin’, if we only relied on the system, we wouldn’t have jobs or be arguing. Isabella wants a pretty boy, and your boy Derek isn’t going to make the cut.”
“And how do you know that? Looks are subjective,” Cara threw back at him.