The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(22)

“What? Hell no!” He let out a nervous laugh. “We’ve been buds since we could walk.”

“Cute story.” I nodded like I was faking being impressed. “Well, it was nice meeting Blake’s dad.” I laughed. “Kidding. It was nice meeting you, man.” I shook his hand, then draped my arm over Blake’s shoulder, waving good-bye to DJ as I dropped our tray off and left the eating area.

Blake was deathly silent until we reached the parking lot.

This was usually the part where the girl freaked out and jumped up in down in triumph, or tried kneeing me in the balls.

Granted, I’d never actually groped any of my other clients, but desperate times and all . . .

Kissing them? Yeah, that’s typically how I got the first reaction out of the clients, but Blake had never been kissed, and I was still a gentleman. It wouldn’t be my right to take that kiss from her, not when she’d clearly been saving it for him.

A voice in my mind screamed that I’d done a hell of a lot more by touching her boobs, but the ass in me shrugged off the voice.

Hormones released. Reaction given. It worked. Bingo!

“You okay?” I let go of her.

“That was”—she pressed her hands to her temples—“really stressful.”

I let out a laugh as adrenaline surged through me. “It usually is.”

Her bright eyes met mine. “Thank you. I think that was the first time he’s actually looked at me—”

“Like you had boobs.”

Blake laughed harder. It was deep, and a bit addictive to listen to. She nodded in excitement. “Exactly.”

“So now will you go to Victoria’s Secret?”

Sheer delight made her eyes sparkle. “Only if you go with me.”

Shit.

Typically, I didn’t need to do this much work. Typically, my clients knew what lipstick was.

I eyed her up and down. Yeah, she wasn’t typical. Not at all. She was special, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you better treat me to froyo after.”

I waved good-bye as she jogged off toward her dorm while I slowly made my way back to my car.

My phone buzzed with a text.

I knew it was probably Shell, but I didn’t want to think about my other clients. I wanted to think about Blake. And in all my time being a wingman, I’d never done that.

I’d never given a girl a second thought. I never took business home with me.

But I was still thinking about Blake long after she left.

And it wasn’t in a sense of Gee, how can I help her? It was mostly about why the hell she was chasing after some guy who clearly hadn’t seen that he’d had a good thing in front of him for over ten years.

I was reading too much into it. Guys were blind, end of story.

Damn egg rolls.

Yeah, let’s blame those.





CHAPTER NINE

“I’m going to count to five.” I banged on the dressing room door one last time. “And then I’m coming in.”

“No!” Blake’s voice was muffled. “I’m . . . It’s . . . I’m . . .”

Cursing, I pressed my forehead against the pink wood door. “Blake . . . I’m starving!”

“You’re always starving! Why don’t you eat before our meetings?”

“I’m busy! I hate protein bars. I forget. And Gabi didn’t pack me a lunch!”

She was quiet. And then, “Gabi packs you lunches?”

Groaning, I made another feeble attempt at grabbing the doorknob and twisting. Still locked. “Gabi sucks. She was supposed to come.”

“Gabi had a test.”

“Wanna know how many tests I’ve flunked because of her?”

Absolutely zero, because she’d never needed me during a test, but I would have gone to her. Maybe. If she was dying, or if the only way for her to pass her class was for me to have sex with her professor.

“Seriously?”

“No. But best friends make sacrifices!”

Blake let out another pitiful groan. “I don’t think it fits.”

“They measured you. It fits. Just tell me if it looks okay so we can go.” I checked my watch. “Gabi said dinner was at six, and it’s already a quarter till.”

“This is too much pressure.” Her voice was frantic. “I can’t do this. I mean, how do I know if it looks good? They’re boobs.”

I groaned. “Boobs always look good. Believe me.”

“Boobs are gross!”

Said no man ever. Even the gay ones.

One of the salesladies eyed me up and down. “Are you two okay?”

“Great,” I chirped. “Just having a very heated discussion about the beauty of breasts.” I dipped my chin to the sales lady’s chest. “What are you? A double D?”

Scowling, she marched off.

Thank God.

“Blake,” I hissed.

No answer.

I’d never had such a difficult client. If anything, they jumped when I told them to, asked how high, and then kept jumping until I was satisfied. Blake fought me at every turn.

“Open the door before I crawl underneath it. I’ll pick the bras—you can close your eyes if you want so you don’t have to watch me look at you, alright? My stomach literally just ate my liver. I need protein. Open. The. Door.”