The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(54)

“Ignore it,” I hissed, my teeth nipping at her neck while my mouth sucked hard. She let out a little moan, her hands blindly reaching behind her. Not that she had to reach or feel far. I was right there with her, hard, waiting, straining against my jeans just to feel her.

“Hey, is Blake here?”

It was David.

Blake froze, her hands slowly returning to her sides.

As I slowly deflated.

And the moment was gone.

“Hey, Blake?” Gabi called up the steps. “David’s here to see you!”

I stepped out of Blake’s way, and with a voice I didn’t even recognize, I said, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Indecision crossed her features, followed by hurt, as she stepped away from me and ran down the stairs.

“What the hell am I doing?” I muttered under my breath, aching for her touch. And not just for the release.

For her.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The bastard stayed for the movie. Best part? Because of my leg, I couldn’t really maneuver myself in between them, and because my job was technically to bow out and let him have the girl once he passed the last few stages, I was stuck anyway.

At least his excuse was better this time.

He was asking her out.

Technically, it was a dinner date with him and his dad. Apparently, they all went way back. If I had to hear one more story about how Blake and David built their own damn tree house, I was going to shit a brick and knock him out with it.

So far, I hadn’t noticed any sly movements from him. He didn’t glare at me, didn’t flip me off again. If anything, he was trying to be too nice. Something wasn’t quite right, but it took me a while to put my finger on it.

Befriending the enemy.

I knew it well.

Because in the end, it would prove to the girl that the guy wasn’t really jealous anymore, he just wanted her happiness above all else, blah, blah, mother-effing blah.

And the real catch? No matter the girl, she always—and I do mean always—believed the guy she was after, because he seemed to be the one who practiced more self-control, whereas my job had always been to push that control so that the girl got noticed. True colors are very rarely shown during the courting phase—I knew that better than anyone. He was putting his best foot forward, capitalizing on whatever weaknesses he saw in me.

I had never cared until now.

Now it just seemed unfair that by being good at my job, I was losing someone I really liked.

“I’m going to make some popcorn.” I stood.

“But your leg,” Blake said.

At least she was still concerned. Though she didn’t stand to join me, so I wasn’t sure how far that concern stretched. She was freshly showered, her mop of wet brown hair was tied into a knot on her head, and she was sporting a loose-fitting tank top that revealed way too much cleavage. Something good ol’ David noticed right away.

“I can limp.” Jealousy surged through me as I noticed David’s hand on her thigh. I needed to get out of there. Fast. “It’s only a few feet.”

Amongst everyone’s protests, I made it into the kitchen, bracing myself against the countertop.

After a few seconds of inhaling and exhaling like I was a newborn babe and just learning how my lungs worked, I reached for the snack cupboard and pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn, just as footsteps sounded in the kitchen doorway.

“Blake, I’m fine. Go watch the movie.”

“Not Blake.” David’s deep voice jolted me out of my pity party.

With a very forced, sly smile, I pressed “Start” on the microwave and turned around. “Something I can help you with?”

“I get it.” He nodded. “She’s yours for now. But we have history. Something you can’t compete with. Not now, not ever.”

“Aw, shucks, how will I ever compete with the tree house?” I tapped my fingers against my chin. “I bet the fact that I have a bigger dick helps.”

David took a menacing step toward me, his fists clenched. “If you touch her, I swear I’ll—”

“Make a fist?” I pointed down at his hands. “Dude, I get it. You can’t have her, so now you want her. But she’s not yours. She won’t ever be yours. Not unless you kill me, which you’re welcome to try now that it’s a fair fight and I only have one leg.”

“You smug bastard.” He sneered, all politeness gone from his countenance, like he’d peeled back a mask and revealed that he wasn’t exactly what he seemed. “What the hell does she see in you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we already went over this. Should I just take off my pants and show you? Heard you may be into dudes, but I wasn’t sure it was true until now.” I was trying to goad him, push his buttons, and see if, maybe, just maybe, good ol’ David wasn’t as good as we suspected.

David’s chest brushed mine like he was ready to body-slam me back against the kitchen counter, then pummel my face in. He could try. He would fail, but he could try. A good fight was just what I needed.

I’d never pushed any of my clients’ love interests this far, never made it about me, or took it this seriously.

Because, up until that point, I didn’t realize I’d been fighting him. But I was. I was fighting him.