The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(59)

“Wow. Okay.” I burst out laughing. “First off, you’re white—sorry to break it to you. Second, if a dude was hard of hearing and only had his sight and was freaking color-blind, he’d know you were white based on the fact that you honestly just thrust your arms into the air while simultaneously sticking your tongue out—oh God, did you just snap your fingers?”

Blake kept dancing, or doing what I can only assume she thought was dancing, her body moving back and forth in the seat.

It was cute as hell.

So I turned up the music once we were at the stoplight.

“Do it,” she yelled as she rolled down her window.

“No.” I crossed my arms.

The light was still red.

“Do it!” Blake laughed and then reached across the seat to tickle my sides. “Come on, dance for me, Ian.”

With a sigh, I lifted my hands above my head and then burst out laughing. “Hell no. No hands above the head. At least try to keep your business in your business, like this.” I showed her how to jam out in the car.

“Nope.” Blake shook her head. “Try harder. My turn for the rules.” She raised my hands above my head, her lips so close to mine I could smell her bubble gum. “Now, snap them, and move.”

I did. Looking like a complete poser.

And she laughed.

Our mouths almost met.

A horn honked behind me.

With a curse, I glanced at the light. It was green, and for who knew how long. Quickly I sped off toward the place we were going.

“Cute lesson,” I said once the song ended.

“I thought so.” Blake winked. “If David doesn’t want me based on the fact that I’m trying to help him expand his taste in music, then he can just . . . suck it!”

“Hah!” I burst out laughing. “Great, but maybe don’t say ‘suck it’ while looking that hot. He may take you literally.”

She made a face, and then more techno came on. Blake danced in her seat the entire way to the water.

“We having a picnic or something?” she asked once I turned off the car.

“Nope, but we do have to work for our food. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “You promise you didn’t just take me out to the docks to make out?”

“Rule number two.” I shoved my keys and wallet in my pocket and held out my hand to her. “When a guy wants to surprise the shit out of you, don’t question him. Just tell him how awesome he is.”

“You are”—she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my chin—“the best fake date ever.”

I growled out a curse and tugged her against me. “Remember, you need to pretend this is real; otherwise, what’s the point?” My body buzzed at her nearness.

“A fun night? Good food?” she offered.

I smacked her on the ass.

“Ouch!” She pushed away from me, laughing. “I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed on first dates.”

“Ah, she can be taught.” I released her and gave a little clap while Blake rolled her eyes at me.

“Behold.” I held out my hands. “Our ride.”

Blake eyed the dock, then me, then the dock. “We’re canoeing?”

“Toward our restaurant, yes.”

A smile broke free across her face. “I have to give it to you—that’s pretty cool. Though I don’t know how much help I’m going to be in this dress.” She looked down at the short piece of fabric hugging her thighs, hugging the exact spot where I wanted my fingers inching, digging.

“Cross my heart,” I hid my other hand behind my back and crossed my fingers. “I won’t look up your skirt.”

“Rule number three?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Men always lie,” I said through my laughter.

After fifteen minutes of intense struggling, I decided helping a girl who was wearing a short dress into a canoe should be counted as an Olympic sport. What was supposed to be romantic was taking a turn for the worse. Maybe this was why Agua Verde didn’t rent canoes in the winter time? Thankfully, Lex had helped me rent the canoe so that we could still have the same ambience.

Blake grabbed her paddle and eyed me. “I would have been a fantastic rower, just so you know.”

“Oh?” I flashed her a smile and grabbed my paddle, then propelled us out of the cove and toward Agua Verde, the restaurant I was taking her to. “And why do you say that?”

“Long arms . . .” She shivered a bit. I stopped paddling and handed her my suit jacket. “Thanks.” Another shiver. “Long legs . . .”

I couldn’t help but stare at her legs. Keeping my mouth from watering took a gargantuan effort.

“Trying to tempt me, sweet cheeks?” I joked, even though my body was already painfully reminding me that it wanted to get to know hers in a very up-close and personal way.

“Do I?” she asked, her voice losing all trace of humor.

With a gulp, I turned away, putting more effort into the paddling so I could focus on the strain of my arm muscles rather than the one currently taking place somewhere else. “Always.”

“I thought all men lied.”

“Not all men,” I answered truthfully. “At least not about something like that.”