The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(44)

“It’s because of what happened on the couch.”

“Ohh.” Lex nodded and swiped his keys from the table. “You mean the practice kiss that really wasn’t practice at all but you breaking your own rules, and had I come in, oh, I don’t know, say a half hour later, said couch would be soiled with all the sex you’re currently not having.”

“Why are we friends?”

“See ya.” Lex saluted me with his middle finger. “And not that I’m a relationship expert, since I’d rather bang ’em than lose ’em, but maybe you should talk to her.” He nodded slowly. “Use your words.”

“Bite me.”

His laugh had me wanting to key his car.

Or maybe drive it into Puget Sound.

Fine. I could use my words. I could fix this. I would fix this.

I checked my watch. I had two hours before class, and Blake didn’t have any morning classes.

“Words,” I mumbled, reaching for my phone. “Use my words.”



“This isn’t coming out right,” I blurted as Blake lifted a couch cushion high into the air, aiming for my face, and then, as if thinking twice about it, lowering it toward my groin.

I’d been at her house a total of five seconds before World War III broke out.

“You think?” she said, seething.

“I’m trying to make things better!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she screeched. “You apologized for kissing me, then kissed me again.”

“About that.” I winced. “I got caught up in the moment.” Actually, she looked so damn pretty that I’d forgotten all about my huge speech. I’d just apologized for last weekend, then, two seconds later, fused my mouth against hers.

She kissed me back.

For around four seconds.

And then she shoved me back so hard that my coffee spilled and ran down my chest, probably leaving a burn trail all the way to my dick.

Wrong day to freeball it. That was for sure.

“Ian.” Why did my name have to sound so good coming from those swollen lips? Probably because God was punishing me. The one girl I craved and she was ready to suffocate me. Great. “You’re not that guy, the relationship one. That’s what I want. Not fleeting kisses. Because”—she swallowed—“well, because it confuses me. And that’s not fair.”

I sighed, hanging my head. “I know, Blake. I’m sorry. I got carried away. You know the song ‘Blurred Lines’?”

“Not helping your case.”

“Sorry.” I managed a weak smile. “Again.” But what I really wanted to say? Let me take you out on a date. Give me a chance. I could change.

But I knew better than anyone.

Guys didn’t just change. I mean, I’d never tried, but the thing about Blake? She was sweet, innocent, and what if I ruined her? What if I told her I wanted to commit, jumped in with both feet, only to cheat on her?

“I swear”—I gulped, hating every word I was saying—“I’ll help you with David. And then . . . I’m hoping we can still be friends.”

Her face fell. “Friends.”

“Funny how words that are supposed to make people happy kind of make you want to punch a tree like Chuck Norris.”

Blake burst out laughing. “Yeah, well . . .”

It wasn’t awkward. If I had to describe the moment—me still dripping-wet with coffee, Blake holding a pillow to keep my mouth from assaulting hers—I’d say it was sad.

That’s what I felt.

Sad.

Because I liked her.

Clearing my throat, I held out my hand. “Friends?”

She dropped the pillow, took a few steps, closing the distance between us, and shook my hand. “Friends.”

“Good.” I dropped her hand, flexed my fingers, gave myself an internal pep talk where her boobs weren’t the main attraction, and stared her down. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Didn’t you say you had class?”

“Skipping. We’re going to basically bump into David all day long, and make him want to kill himself. You up for that?”

She nodded, but it wasn’t an excited nod—more like she didn’t know what else to do.

“You still want David, right?”

Dear God, please say no.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Blake answered. “David’s . . . a good guy. He’s the guy you marry, you know? The guy you take home. He’s always been there for my family, and he’s—”

“Safe,” I finished for her, hating the word almost as much as I hated the word “friends.”

Blake made a face. “Do you think that’s wrong?”

Hell, yes. It was almost as bad as settling. But it wasn’t my place to tell her that. Plenty of girls liked safe, only to fall in love with the comfort it brought later. Safe wasn’t settling, but it sure as hell looked like it. Especially the way that Blake’s shoulders suddenly slouched.

“Blake.” I gripped her arms and pulled her forward. “Snap out of it. You’re sexy as hell, know how to kiss so well that I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget the way your mouth tastes, and you’re sweet.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop making that face. Sweet is good. You’re the perfect balance of sexy and sweet. Think of your personality as catnip.”