The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(47)

“Blake?” He frowned.

“Oh, sorry!” Blake pulled off her sunglasses. “I forgot I had these on.”

“You should never cover your eyes,” he said in a low voice. “They’re your best feature.”

I laughed.

David glared.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were kidding.”

“What? I was just thinking that if we’re naming her best feature—physical, that is, since we both know she has a killer personality—hmm.” I gave her a once-over. “I’d have to say it’s a three-way tie between her ass, tits, and hair. But hey, what do I know?”

Blake elbowed me hard in the ribs. I wasn’t trying to be crude. In fact, my intention was the exact opposite. I said trigger words to get David to look. The power of suggestion, my friends.

I clenched my teeth as David, upon hearing me say each word, took inventory, slowly, methodically. Then like a lightbulb went on in his stupid-ass head, his eyes widened, perhaps opening the rest of the way, and he took a step backward, nearly colliding with a student rushing by.

“Yeah,” he croaked and then coughed into his hand. “You’re right. Everything’s . . . perfect.”

“And mine.” I winked, stirring the pot of jealousy a bit more, trying to see how far I could push him while at the same time swelling with pride that for now, she was mine.

For now.

His head snapped in my direction. “I thought you guys were just seeing each other, nothing official.”

“Made it official last night.” I focused in on Blake’s mouth as I brought her hand to my lips. “Right, sweet cheeks?”

Expecting Blake to nod and just go with it, I wasn’t prepared for her to lean in and kiss my mouth, taking my head with both hands and forcing her tongue down my throat. But, not one to say no to kissing her, not ever, I kissed her back.

It ended too soon, once David cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” Blake actually looked embarrassed as she tucked her hair behind her ears and then grabbed her sunglasses and forced them back on in one swift, sexy move. “It was just a really good night.”

“It was,” I said, leering.

“Well, good,” David said a little too loud. “I’m happy for you, Blake. Really happy.”

He looked anything but happy. In fact if that’s what happy looked like, Blake was going to have the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. The dude looked ready to puke all over us and burst into tears all at once.

“We should get going.” I gave David a head nod and gripped Blake’s hand as we left the building.

Once we reached the doors, I turned back to offer him my final acknowledgement, my final smirk. I knew he’d be staring at us, mainly her ass. He was, and when I gave him a challenging lift of my eyebrows, good ol’ David gave me the finger.

“Hah!” I burst out laughing as I clutched Blake’s hand tighter. “David’s fun, isn’t he?”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she asked.

I didn’t point out that she was swinging my arm and giggling with me. Damn, it just felt so natural, holding her hand, joking around.

“David flipped me off.”

Her smile fell. “Seriously? That’s kinda harsh, don’t you think? Why would he do that?”

“Because his hands were free.” I smiled down at her. “And mine”—I lifted our joined hands up—“weren’t.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Another three days went by. I expected to be finished with Blake in the next twenty-four hours. Not because I wanted to be done, but because I had to be done. Our client list was piling up, and Lex said if he had to kiss one more chick who tried to impale the back of his throat with her tongue, he was going to quit.

It was Saturday.

And David hadn’t stopped calling or randomly dropping by to check the plumbing. Right. Good one, genius.

Hey can I look at your pipes?

What for?

To make sure they’re clean of shit?

Some dudes really didn’t know what the hell they were doing. At least come up with a good excuse the third time you drop by. I don’t know, give yourself a flat tire, ask to use the phone, tell her you’re dehydrated after your ten-mile run and need water.

But pipes?

Again?

She was going to be so bored with him. I knew it, and I hoped she was beginning to see it, but I had a promise to keep and a contract to shred once my job was done.

Then, and only then, would I sit back, let him crash and burn, then I’d swoop in and . . .

I hadn’t really gotten to that part yet, ever.

I pulled up to Gabi and Blake’s house and grabbed the snacks for our early spring barbecue out of the backseat. It was warm for March, around sixty-two degrees, meaning we wanted any excuse to be outside.

The door was already open when I glanced back at the house. A sexy-looking Blake was standing in the middle of the doorway, part of her stomach showing, compliments of her short white tank top and low-rise boyfriend jeans.

“Nice,” I called out as I made my way toward her. “I like.”

She turned in front of me, then blew me a kiss. “Good, because I haven’t worn them in forever.”

I walked past her and into the house, then she followed.