Home > The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc. #1)(13)

The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc. #1)(13)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Or a challenge. Hah, too bad she wasn’t a client. I could do a lot with those legs. Granted, they wouldn’t be wrapped around me, unfortunately, since I never got involved with clients. Not for lack of trying on their part.

The lecture ended an hour later.

We both stood. I let her walk by me and whispered, “Blue.”

She froze but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“Your eyes.” I squeezed by her and whispered in her ear, “They’re a really pretty ice blue.”

“Like my soul.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, will you please leave me alone?”

“Why would you want that?” I fell into step beside her as she lengthened her stride. “Besides, any friend of Gabi’s is a friend of mine.”

“That’s really unfortunate for me.”

“So you saw me naked,” I said loud enough for people walking by to hear. “Big deal.”

Wide-eyed, she slapped a hand over my mouth and backed me up against the wall. I grinned against her palm.

She leaned in. “I wasn’t impressed,” she whispered amidst a cloud of minty-fresh breath.

I pushed her hand away and laughed. “You’re a shit liar. Then again, that may have been your first time seeing a naked man, and therefore, you’re waiting to compare me to the sad, unfortunate soul-sucking individual you’re going to end up with. I bet he’ll have glasses.”

She frowned. “What’s wrong with glasses?”

“And a bald spot.” I nodded thoughtfully, then pointed to her temple. “Right here.”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back and escaped.

For the record, I let her.

She was out the door maybe five feet before she turned around one last time.

They always did.

They always would.

I waved.

She flipped me off.

She might as well have kissed me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sunlight broke through the clouds, a rarity in January, when it was usually rainy and gray. The calming sound of the fountain was broken the minute my Superman ringtone went off. Duty called.

“It worked!” Shell screamed into the phone. I barely managed to save my eardrum by pulling the phone away while she continued to shriek.

“Of course it did,” I said with a bored tone. If I didn’t know what I was doing, I’d suck at my job. A few girls walked by my bench and waved. The wind picked up, causing some of the water from the fountain to sprinkle across the girl closest to me. Her revealing white shirt was most definitely getting wet. And I didn’t miss the fact that she leaned into the water, turned to make sure I was looking, then stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked. Hard.

What a shame that she had to ruin her shirt in order to gain my attention. I almost pitied her, and then, she turned toward me.

Or not. Not a shame. God bless America.

She blew me a kiss.

I winked in response.

Her friends giggled at our exchange.

At this point I expected either the solitary giggle or the hateful stare. I usually only received the second if I’d already been with the girl and forgotten her name, or the fact that we’d slept together in the first place. That’s why I had Lex! And my damn calendar. So I didn’t forget important information.

“Shell, remember what I said about phone calls.” She needed to calm the hell down. Unless his penis was made of gold and he could single-handedly take down every Avenger, the screaming wasn’t necessary. Not one bit. Again, the man liked tea. Enough said. “I need you to listen very carefully.”

She sighed into the phone. “I know, I know. I was just excited. It won’t happen again, Ian. You’re the best!”

I know. “He’s going to try to get you alone. Say no.”

“But—”

“Rule number five: Tell him you’re busy. From here on out, you are always busy, until I tell you that you aren’t. Got it?”

“But, Ian, it’s working. I mean, he asked me out twice today.”

“Twice is nothing, and we aren’t through the rules yet.” I reached for my old-school planner and wrote down the number two next to day two. He was moving through the stages fast for a tea-drinking hippie. Guys usually hit the first stage of jealousy and hang out there for a while, rarely making a move or stomping on another man’s territory until day three or four. “The minute he’s done asking, he’ll move on to telling. That’s when you have him. Not when he asks you out, but when he demands your time and waits outside your dorm until he gets it.”

“Wow,” Shell breathed. “That’s . . . romantic.”

“I know guys.” I checked my watch. “Gotta run. New client.”

“Thanks, Ian. Bye. And—”

I hung up.

I didn’t have time to form relationships with my clients, especially not the ones who’d cry once I told them to cut off all communication at the end of our contract. Better that I keep all conversations short and to the point rather than let our little transaction turn into a romantic entanglement that could potentially destroy my business.

With a relaxed sigh, I leaned back against the bench. My dark D&G sunglasses hid my eyes so I could study people as they passed. It was usually easy picking out new clients. They almost always approached the bench I was sitting on looking like they were going to puke. Several had turned around and started walking the other way while others had marched right up to me and burst into tears.

   
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