The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(73)

No shit.

I shut the folder and checked my watch.

She’d been on her date for one hour. And I was sitting at home, well on my way to getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself because of a few stupid numbers.

Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and marched toward the door.

“Oh no you don’t.” Lex’s voice echoed through the hallway. “I’ll drive. I had one drink. You had . . . who knows how many. Where are we going?”

I refused to answer.

“Oh, good, so a stakeout? Sounds fun. I’m in.”

“Don’t you have homework or something?” I pushed past him and grabbed my jacket. “Anything?”

His smile fell. “No.”

“What?” My eyes narrowed. “You’re never home on a Thursday night, or any night for that matter. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” His answer was quick, and his jaw ticked into place like he was trying to crack an entire row of teeth. “Drop it.”

“Okay.” Pain pounded through my head. “And we’re going to U Village. He took her to dinner at Pasta and Co.”

“Hah.” Lex laughed, then sobered. “Oh, you’re serious? Pasta and Co?”

“Not everyone’s an expert in seduction, thank God.”

“Pasta. Hands down the worst date food next to ribs.”

“Again, thank God for that.”

Lex paused in the doorway. “Look, do you really think this is a good idea? As much as I’m against any sort of relationship where you hang up the cape and actually stay committed to one person, this could end badly, you spying on her.”

“Superheroes don’t spy. We . . . check in.”

“And as the villain to your hero, I would just break in, so who am I to talk?”

“Exactly.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Spying didn’t feel wrong to me until we rolled up in my SUV like two dudes trying to scope out a bank.

“Far corner,” Lex said lowering the binoculars. “She’s facing him, not sitting across but to the side. Bastard may have skills after all. Wanna see?”

“No.” I stared straight ahead. “The absolute last thing I want to see is how close he’s sitting to her, or if he’s strategically dropping his napkin on the floor so he can have an excuse to scoot his chair closer.”

“It’s scary,” Lex said in a low voice, “how well you know the male gender.”

“Napkin drop?”

“Yup.”

“Chair scooting?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Shit.” I rubbed my eyes, my vision blurring from the headache. “He’s probably going to lean in and say he can’t hear her very well because of the crowd. There will be another chair scoot until they’re thigh to thigh, giving him a one-inch walk for his hand to cover her bare leg. Best erotic zone for a date.”

Lex was silent. And then, “Shit, man, you should write a book . . . He’s frowning, he just looked apologetic . . . Another chair scoot, but I can’t see under the table.”

“He’s touching her. Of course he’s touching her.”

“Don’t assume.”

“Because I’ve been wrong up until now?” I snapped.

Lex didn’t answer, and I still couldn’t bring myself to look. Looking felt like the final straw, a betrayal. I’d said I trusted her, so at least by using Lex I was keeping my promise. Sort of.

“So, Superman, what’s the next move?” Lex asked after a few seconds of silence.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from Blake.

Frowning, I opened it up and felt my entire body tense.



Blake: Dinner is over. Ordering dessert, then I’ll be home. Don’t worry.



“Lex?” I grimaced at the phone, rage pumping through my system as I contemplated slamming the phone against the dash. “Have they eaten yet?”

“I see bread on the table . . . but no main dish. Wait, hold on.” He was silent again, and then continued, “The waiter stopped by, but David waved him off.”

Nodding, I fired a text back to Blake.



Ian: Is the food good? What did you order?



I got a response right away.



Blake: Food’s great. I got chicken pad Thai.



“Lex . . .” I seriously needed to leave before I barged into the restaurant and raised hell. “Are you sure they haven’t eaten?”

“Almost positive. Why does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” Except she was lying to me about something small. Which meant if something big took place . . .

Why tell me what she ordered and say it’s good if she hadn’t even eaten yet? Why make up a lie? Why the hell was I being so paranoid?

“We should go,” I said. It wasn’t like I could confront her now, and it was just food after all.

“Yeah,” Lex said, quickly putting the car into drive and tossing the binoculars in the backseat. “Great idea.”

“Whoa, suddenly in a hurry?” I laughed as Lex turned the car around so that my window was facing the restaurant.