The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(38)

I waved Blake off. “Let me die.” The pounding worsened as my head rushed with heat.

“Never leave a man behind,” she joked. Then, with a tug, my jeans were off my body. Good. Not only was I helpless in front of the girl I wanted to get into bed, but she’d just stripped me naked and didn’t even gasp.

I was freeballing.

And still, no appreciative “Oh my.”

Damn it. I’d already lost before I even got put in the game.

“Up you go.” She helped me to my feet. Thankfully, she was an athlete, so she was strong. I knew I wasn’t helping her much, considering I kept stumbling as I tried to weave my way toward the tub.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. Peering down at her, I saw three of her face. But she was still pretty, and in my feverish state I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, or just lean against her neck like a pathetic waste of humanity.

“Simple.” She smiled up at me. “Despite your bossiness and crude humor, I like you.”

Like “like me” like? Or just “hey, you’re a good friend” like? I nearly groaned aloud at my inner narration.

Good job, Ian. Maybe during recess you can have Lex pass her a note and have her circle which one.

“I like you too.” I smiled down at her.

“Then get in the bathtub.”

I stared her down in what I hoped was utter defiance and strength.

“Get in—before I make Lex come in here and carry you. And I have a really good reason to believe his bedside manner is like a grenade going off in your face.”

“How do you figure?”

“Easy. He went and checked in on Gabi once he found out how sick you were. He was with her all night, and there was a lot of shouting.”

“Lex?” I made my way to the side of the tub. “My best friend Lex? You should have called the police. He’s going to kill her.”

“She texted that she’s fine.”

“She’s feverish! Of course she’s fine! I’ve seen two unicorns and a flying elephant since we’ve made the trek from my bed to the bathroom.”

“Dumbo?” Blake laughed. “You saw Dumbo?”

“I was always terrified of big ears when I was little.” Why was I saying this out loud? Why? Why? Why, God? Why? But it just kept happening. “I think it was because they used to call me Big Ears, and then once the kids discovered Dumbo . . . it was the beginning of the end. I refused to even eat elephant ears, because I assumed that meant my ears would grow more. How sad, to miss out on the best part of the fair.”

“In you go,” Blake said, ignoring my elephant-ear comment.

Slowly, I lowered myself, with her help, into the tub, and screamed out obscenities I’m sure no lady of her nature should ever have to hear.

“Son of a bitch!” I screamed. “I hate you. I don’t like you anymore. I take it back. All of it. Get me out! Why is it so cold?”

“It’s not cold.” Blake held me down. “It just feels that way because you’re so hot. We have to get your fever down.”

“I’m always hot, Blake.” I slapped her hand against my forehead. “See? Feel? I’m healed. Miraculous recovery.” I winced as the throbbing pain continued, then nearly laughed my ass off as I saw an honest-to-God Dumbo fly out in front of me. “I just hate big ears. Why does nobody understand?”

“Big ears suck,” Blake joined in. “And so do fevers. So I need you to cooperate while I keep filling the tub, okay?”

I leaned back, teeth chattering. “Worst moment of my life. This is a close second.”

Blake turned to me, her eyes curious. “What’s the first?”

“When I almost died.”

She was silent.

“I just died in your arms tonight,” I sang as my eyes started to close. “The tub isn’t so bad, Blake.”

“I know.”

“I think we could be best friends. I only have two. I’m killing them off soon, though, so there’s a vacancy.”

“Good to know.”

“But you have to cook for me.”

Blake’s musical laughter made my body clench tight, but the cold water prevented any embarrassments. Wait, why was I in water? Why was Blake here?

“I cooked for my dad and brother all the time.”

“Really? Is your brother as pretty as you?”

Blake’s eyes softened. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached blindly for her hand. I was so tired, but it was important to comfort her, just be there for her. I could tell in the way she suddenly slumped, as if forgetting all of the stages of her transformation from insecure to a confident woman. “Dying sucks.”

I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah.” She let out a chuckle and shook her head. “It really does, Ian.”

“Blake?”

“Yup.” She turned off the water with her free hand. I was still clutching the other.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Despite my big ears?”

“Because of your big ears.”

“That’s what all the ladies”—I yawned—“say.”

“Bet they do . . .”