The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(40)

She was fiercely loyal and hardworking. And she cared, even about someone who she really shouldn’t care about—me.

Last night, while feverish, I’d had that moment. A moment of clarity. I was the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes. I looked down.

Or maybe it was just my cock.

Either way, it was no longer just this physical wham-bam reaction. There was something about her, something that made me want to punch David in the face and steal Blake for myself.

Food.

She wasn’t bringing him food.

Food meant . . .

Oh shit.

It meant something.

Right?

And now I was acting like all of my clients—frantic, and desperate to win the attention of the person I was after. Fantastic.

I was still in the game, but I was warming the bench, splinters embedding themselves in my hard ass while David made a game-winning touchdown. Damn David.

With a sigh, I swiped my phone off the nightstand and sent off a quick text to Lex.



Ian: Where’d you bury her?



He responded right away.



Lex: I thought it best to leave you out of it just in case you have to testify.

Ian: You’re a good friend.

Lex: Also, Gabi says sorry for getting you sick.

Ian: A true friend would apologize with cookies.

Lex: She said to go screw yourself.

Ian: She not up to the task? Still too dehydrated?

Lex: She said, and I’m quoting her, just FYI: Tell Ian that if I want to get syph I’ll do it without hooking up with the campus bike.

Ian: Bike?

Lex: Because everyone’s had a ride.

Ian: Unfair. It’s me riding them, not the other way around. You know how I feel about lazy sex. Cough, points finger Lex: Bite me.

Ian: Pretty sure Gabs already took care of that.

Lex: Remind me to get my rabies shot later.

Ian: Are you home?

Lex: On my way.



I frowned at the phone.



Ian: You’re still at Gabi’s?

Lex: I told you, I had to get rid of the body. Murder takes time.

Ian: Alrighty then. See you in a few.

Lex: By the way, I hate her. Just so you know. I only came over here because I was worried she had the plague and was about to start a citywide epidemic.

Ian: No need to defend yourself.

Lex: Good. See you in a few.



I set down my phone and smiled, imagining just how great of a doctor Lex had been to Gabi. I bet he threw the medicine at her, then yelled when she didn’t suddenly just get better. He wasn’t a patient man, not when it came to Gabi. I wanted to check on her too, but I was suddenly exhausted.

With a groan, I rubbed my eyes, quickly got under the covers, and went back to sleep.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

By the time Blake made it back to my house, I was showered and downstairs watching Game of Thrones reruns. When the knock sounded at the door, I knew exactly who it was.

I stood just as Lex went to open it.

Oh shit. I’d have to explain why she was back.

“Hey, Lex,” Blake stood up on her tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, and moved past him into the kitchen, like she was on girlfriend terms.

Curious, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she set two takeout bags down and started pulling out boxes.

Lex pouted, leaning toward her a little closer than I would have liked. “Please tell me you got food for me too.”

I growled from my spot on the couch.

“Oh, hey, Ian. Didn’t see you,” Lex lied.

I gave him the finger while Blake continued piling an insane amount of takeout onto the table.

“I got your favorite.” Blake grinned at my roommate like they were besties. What the hell? “Chow mein, right?”

“With pork?”

I choked on my bottle of water, then shot to my feet, dizzily making my way toward the bar.

“Of course.” She scooted the tray over, while the smell of Thai food, Chinese, and . . .

“Panera Bread,” I shouted, louder than necessary.

“Forgive Ian,” Lex said. “Sometimes I think he loves food more than sex.”

“And sometimes”—I sat—“depending on the girl, that’s true.”

Blake bit down on her lip, her face paling briefly before she scooted a black plastic bowl of soup in my direction.

She’d paled when I mentioned sex.

So that meant she was either jealous it wasn’t her, or totally disgusted that I was the type of guy to go out and just have mindless sex with equally mindless girls.

I frowned down at the soup.

“Is it too hot?” Blake asked, coming around the bar and handing me a napkin.

She smelled like burnt vanilla. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, parts of the wavy golden-brown mess still wet. Face makeup-free except for eyelash stuff and some lip gloss.

I suppressed a groan. Damn, she really was pretty. All of her.

Even in the boyfriend sweats that I’d finally let her buy. In pink. Oh, her and pink.

I glanced down.

The flip-flops had made another appearance, though for some reason it was like as long as she was wearing them, in my mind, we were still on equal footing. Like the minute she was no longer comfortable around me was the minute I was going to lose my shit and just . . . I don’t know. I hadn’t planned that far, because I wasn’t going to let it happen.