The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(71)

“Oh no you don’t.” Blake wagged her finger at me. “Think of it this way—the sooner I go out with him and tell him how blissfully happy I am with you, the sooner we can get this whole David thing behind us. Besides, like I said, he’s a friend.”

“My point exactly. You sleep with your friend every night.”

Blake sighed. “Ian, trust me. I want you. Not him.”

It was in that moment that I realized she had me by the balls in a very disturbing way, because for the first time in years I was insecure. Fearful that our relationship was too new and that she’d default to what was comfortable.

Fearful that she would settle.

Then again, what made me better than David?

Shit. What if she was settling by being with me, not him? What if I was holding her back? What if . . .

And this is why guys like me should never date, because guys like me have way too many thoughts. Guys like me help girls get guys like David. I knew exactly what he would do to woo her. I knew exactly how he’d respond to every laugh, every sigh. Damn it. It was like sending her out unarmed. She wasn’t ready for battle, not when it came to the stacks of childhood memories David had against me.

I really should have read through the compatibility results that Lex had given me. At least then I’d know who was the better man, even though the very fact that it could be him made my chest tighten with rage.

If she was meant to be with him, she would be.

But she was with me.

“Ian?” Blake waved in front of my face. “Are you okay?”

“Go,” I huffed. “I won’t drive you to dinner like the crazy-ass boyfriend who can’t trust his girl. Seriously, go. I’ll, um, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah.” She frowned. “I’ll stop by your house afterward. Is that still okay?”

“Of course.” I forced a smile, then kissed her briskly on the cheek. “Just don’t let him touch you. Anywhere. Not even your back, which means he’s thinking of touching your ass, alright?”

“Promise.” She held up her hand. “Go watch a movie, relax. Maybe do some homework.”

“Hah.” Like I wanted to do statistics while he was looking down her dress and imagining her naked. Like hell. “Great idea.”

“Trust me?” she said in a hopeful voice.

“Yes.”

She left me standing there in her room, wondering how the hell I’d gone from being a guy who was confident in every area of his life to a guy wondering if I’d made a huge lapse in judgment by giving her a chance. Because the minute you’re in a relationship, like really in it, you have the potential to fail.

And I didn’t fail.

That was why after my injury I’d pushed myself so hard.

It was also why I didn’t take risks, why I didn’t date. I loved women. Loved them. And I enjoyed sex immensely.

But sex had always been just sex.

Now it was attached to Blake.

Shit.

First thing on the list? I was going to open that damn folder, check out the stats, look at the breakdown, and make a decision, even if it killed me. Besides, how bad could it be? I wasn’t a horrible guy, and things were going great with Blake. I was sure the program had matched us at a high percentage. Hell, maybe even somewhere in the nineties.

But would I continue dating her if I found out that we were doomed from the start? Even if I really cared for her?

The thought haunted me the entire way home.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Lex had left the results in the living room, where he normally does his work. The dining room table was clear except for a few stacks of file folders and Lex’s ever-present MacBook Pro.

I pulled out one of the metal chairs and sat, my eyes never leaving the stack. Shit, it wasn’t like it was paternity test results. It was just a number.

A number that would tell me once and for all if I was the settler or the settlee.

Damn it.

I tapped my fingertips against the table, then with a curse pushed back the chair and stood, looming over the laptop, still staring but having second thoughts. What would this really accomplish? If I was wrong, if she really was better off with David, then . . . if I really cared for her, I’d let her go, right? Why would I want to hurt her? I had started Wingmen Inc. for people exactly like her.

To protect her from guys like me, guys who were players. Is that what was really happening right now?

“Oh shit,” I grumbled.

I was turning into a chick—thinking of every possible outcome, analyzing every angle of the situation. So basically I was like Lex with tits.

“So you are going to read it?” Lex’s voice interrupted my stare down with his laptop, causing me to curse again and nearly push the computer to the floor.

“Haven’t decided yet.” I crossed my arms. “What are you doing home?”

“I live here.” Lex’s face was tight. “Unless you’re kicking me out, which you may do after you take a quick read through.”

“That bad?” The files mocked me with all their organizational brilliance. There was a tab for each client, and I could see my name. I really didn’t want to see my name.

“Two-shots-of-whiskey bad.” Lex started moving around the kitchen, cupboards slammed, and then suddenly a glass of whiskey was thrust into my hand and he was pulling out the stack of papers labeled “Ian Hunter.”