The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(15)

“One kiss,” I whispered under my breath. “Am I that ugly? That you can’t even kiss me?”

Gritting her teeth, she muttered a curse, then grabbed my face and planted one of the quickest kisses of my lifetime—on my cheek.

On. My. Cheek.

“What was that?” I touched the spot where she kissed. “Seriously? What the hell?”

“A kiss!” She threw her hands into the air. “Now go!”

With a laugh, I swiped the screen on my phone and opened up the file with her information. I always waited until after the first meeting to learn the client’s name and read their file, since I felt it would be unfair of me to judge someone based on reputation alone. Lex knew the names, but I never did until they sat on the bench.

It was part of my process.

She was from Idaho, which I already knew, but she didn’t move with a parent. Good ol’ dad was still back in Riggins. Points for the single-parent guess, though. Nope, she’d moved a few states over . . . for a guy. “Interesting.”

“What?” She chewed harder on her thumb. “Never mind. I’m leaving. This was a stupid idea.”

I let her walk three steps before speaking. “You think David would approve of that attitude? Says here he values optimism above all things.” I paused for half a beat as though considering. “Shit, what’s he studying? Spiritualism?”

Blake froze. Then she turned slowly, her face white as a sheet. “How do you know that?”

“I hacked your e-mails.”

Ouch. Didn’t realize it was possible for her to pale more.

“Wow, you look a little green.” I stood, then grabbed her arm and started walking with her. “And I was kidding.” Once we were under the nearest tree, I pushed her against it and pulled off my sunglasses again, this time allowing my eyes to fully inspect her face. Strong chin, blue eyes, the freckles again, pouty lips. “Very pretty.”

“What is this?”

“Wingmen Inc.,” I said in a cocky tone. “But since we’re already on a first-name basis . . .”

“No.” Blake shook her head. “There has to be some mistake.”

“Sorry.” I pulled back enough so she could have some breathing room. “No mistake. Lex and I are the masterminds behind the fastest-growing relationship service in the Pacific Northwest.”

Blake exhaled slowly. “But . . . you’re a . . .”

“Whore?”

She nodded.

“I enjoy women.” I shrugged. “And I help women, all types of women, find their perfect match. Is that so wrong?”

“But—”

“We have a lot of work to do.” I tilted my head. “Do you know what Victoria’s Secret is?”

“You’re an ass.”

“Duh, I’m a guy. But, I’m also your new love coach. I don’t charge two hundred bucks a day to be your friend.” I nodded, and my body buzzed with excitement over the challenge—she’d be one, that was for sure. “I’ll do it. That is, if you’re still interested in this David.”

She looked hesitant. Her body language was closed-off completely, so I knew she’d be a tough one to crack. Especially since I could tell she wasn’t my biggest fan. Then again, she didn’t need to be. Maybe I needed to remind her of that.

“Look.” I licked my lips and held out my hand. She took it, thankfully. “We have a ninety-nine percent success rate. Follow the rules, follow my advice and guidance, and you’ll be popping out little Davids in no time.”

“Kids?” she choked.

“Or whatever it is you want. I’ll get it for you. The only time our process doesn’t work is if you refuse to play by my rules.” I arched my eyebrows at the sound of her teeth clenching. “Or when the match isn’t your ideal match. But if you’re here, that means it’s already been settled, and if you listen to me, you’ll have your guy. But if for some reason this David isn’t a soul-saving Mother Teresa saint who shits rainbows, or if you change your mind about him, then we’ll find you someone else who’s a better match. It’s the perfect program. Believe me—Lex designed it, and he’s a genius.”

This was always the part I hated. The thinking part, when I waited for the client to say yes or no. Women overanalyzed everything, and again, I didn’t have time for it. Patience made me shaky.

“Anonymity is key. In public, people speculate that we’re dating or maybe even together. In private, I coach you, help you find whatever dormant sexuality you’ve kept hiding under all that hair and those flip-flops. And after a few days, or”—I winced at her clothing—“maybe in your case a few weeks”—she glared—“we part ways with a handshake, or a high five, if that’s your preference, and you skip off into the sunset with your one and only true love.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Sure.” I nodded. “You have two minutes. Also, did you miss the part where I said sunset? True love?”

“Two minutes?” She started breathing heavy.

“My time is precious. Next to kissing, it’s another one of my currencies, the most valuable thing I have. Don’t waste it.”

“It was an impulse! A girl on my team gave me your card after I was complaining about being invisible to David, and—”