The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(78)

“It’s not like you didn’t want it, I’m sure,” I muttered.

A stinging sensation knifed through my cheek as her hand went flying across my face.

“We done?” I asked, sidestepping her.

“So. Done.” She jogged back into the weight room, and I continued my walk of shame all the way to my car.

Funny, a few weeks ago what just happened would have been the perfect setup to get the guy to finally notice the girl. Hell, even I couldn’t have written such a good ending.

The only problem?

It wasn’t fiction.

It wasn’t a setup.

It was life.

Whoever said “if you love something, you let it go” clearly had never been in love before. Yet that’s exactly what I was doing.

Letting her go.

To the better man.

Which, for the first time in my life, I realized . . . wasn’t me.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Ian? Are you even listening to me? We kissed. It was amazing . . .”

Hell, even if it was the worst kiss of her life, it would have still been amazing, because when you’re in love or when you really like someone, you can damn near justify anything.

Well, of course he had coffee breath. He works at Starbucks! Duh, he drinks coffee!

Silly Ian. Oh, no, he meant to hit my teeth!

He said he’d been pining for me for years. Years! Can you stand it?

No, I really can’t. Please stop talking.

Or my personal favorite: He said more spit makes things better, because a dry mouth can kill you during oral. I swear.

Right, and balls fall off if you don’t have sex before forty.

No, really. Look it up.

“Ian!” Vivian snapped her fingers in front of me. “After the kiss, how do I still keep him interested?”

Yeah, I needed to stop daydreaming about a certain girl and a certain guy who I could see were currently walking hand in hand toward the HUB.

“You . . .” Frantic at the sight, I reached for Vivian’s hand. “Shit, Vivian, one kiss is fine, but the second kiss is the one that tells them the first wasn’t a fluke. So this time, let him kiss you, but give him some mixed signals. It can’t be too easy.”

“Okay.” She frowned. “So maybe sit farther away from him?”

David laughed at something Blake said. She was wearing jeans and a short top that showed off her tan skin, damn it!

“Ian,” Vivian growled.

“Right.” Without thinking, I pulled Vivian into my lap, blocking my view of David and Blake. “Get playful with him, and when he leans in, pull back, like this.” I leaned in, she pulled back and smiled.

I felt hollow. Empty. “Good job, Vivian. Just make sure that it’s a playful kiss, and then it can turn passionate. But don’t make out—that’s not for the second kiss or even the third. Keep him wanting. When do you see him again?”

“Well.” Vivian squirmed on my lap. Damn, her butt was bony—give the girl a cookie or something. I love women’s bodies, but eat, for God’s sake. “We’re supposed to study tonight.”

“Public place. Then go somewhere for drinks afterward, tell him you need a break.”

“Got it.” Vivian squirmed more.

Blake and David must be gone.

“Okay, off you go.” I heaved her off my lap and stood just as David and Blake turned toward me. By the looks of her mouth, he’d been kissing her, or trying to pry her lips from her face. But she didn’t look satisfied; if anything, she looked pissed.

You’re welcome for giving you your heart’s desire, princess. Now stop glaring at me.

“Old client?” Vivian nodded over at them.

“Sort of.” I frowned and grabbed my phone. “Text me with the location tonight, and I’ll hang out in the background to make sure you don’t need a wingman.”

“Hah.” Vivian nodded. “You really take your job seriously, don’t you?”

David gave me the finger behind Blake’s back. I knew there was something wrong with that bastard!

“You have no idea.”

“Thanks, Ian!” Vivian skipped off while I made a mental note to cut David’s brakes, you know, when Blake wasn’t in the passenger seat. I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. But David? Let’s just say I wanted to rip him limb from limb.



“Blake paid us,” Lex announced when I walked into the house and set all my school stuff out on the table.

“I did the right thing.” I was saying that a lot lately. In my head while showering. Right before bed when I still smelled her on my sheets, regardless of how many times I washed them. Before class, after class. So basically it had become my new mantra. I did the right thing.

Exactly seven hours later, I was still repeating that to myself as I lay across the couch and wondered how much pizza one man could consume before he actually ate himself to death.

Would it be less painful than drowning?

Would Lex mourn me? Or simply cash in on the fact that I’d overdosed on pizza and get Domino’s to name a pie after me?

Deep thinking. That’s what my life had turned into. Well, that, no showers, overeating, and Game of Thrones reruns.

In a moment of complete pizza-drunk weakness, I sent a text to Blake.