The Matchmaker's Replacement [Kindle in Motion] (Wingmen Inc. Book 2) (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Lex

W
hat crawled up your ass and died?” Ian asked as we parked in front of Gabi’s house for dinner. It had been a week.

A week of pure hell.

A week where I had stalked her like the creepy insane person I’d officially become.

The only time she and I talked was when I sent her more info on Steve or when I needed to check in with her progress. Ian had never filled out progress reports, but since Gabs was new and we needed to know how the program was going with guys, she had to fill out a date sheet every time she went out with Steve.

So far they’d gone on two dates.

Both had been fine.

That’s all I had.

Because Gabs refused to put anything other than “He was fine.”

Question 1: How was dinner?

Fine.

Question 2: Did the client show any signs of nervousness? If yes, explain how you helped.

Client was fine.

I growled as I got out of the car and slammed my door.

“Seriously?” Ian glanced back at me. “What the hell is your problem? You can’t treat this kind of car that way!”

I shrugged.

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You look like shit, too, just saying.”

“Thanks, Mom, anything else?” I shoved my hands into my pockets.

Ian always saw through my bullshit, so I was suddenly thankful he was too in love to pay attention to me or my issues. He’d know immediately what it was, and then I’d be stuck apologizing to him while he tried to saw off my balls with a rusty fork.

The door to the girls’ apartment opened in a flurry. Gabs was wearing the shortest damn Nike running shorts I’d ever seen. The hell? They sold those in stores? What did she do, shop in the kids’ section and ask for an extra small? The outline of her ass was wreaking havoc on my already alarming attraction to her. I forced my eyes away for maybe three seconds before she turned and moved farther into the house, her tank top flashing smooth skin right next to her hip and a little shimmer of her belly-button ring. Mouth dry, I stared, looked away, stared again. What the hell was she doing answering the door with scraps for clothes? There were serious creepers in the world! Ones that would take advantage of all that . . . skin. I choked on my next breath as the dizzying scent of strawberries smacked me in the face.

I was already hot.

Things were about to get hotter.

She gave Ian a hug.

I got a fleeting look, and then she turned her back on me.

It was a great feeling—like being shot at. Not that I’d been shot at, but the pain was physical, real.

I’d never cared that she treated me like shit, because we had an understanding, a type of game, in which we both hated each other but at the end of the day, if she had a flat tire, I’d fix it.

If I needed a hug, she’d grudgingly give it, then step on my toe.

Except for that one time.

My stomach clenched at the memory.

“Seriously.” Ian shook his head. “Are you on drugs?”

“Drugs?” I repeated. “Do I look like the type of dude who wants to drop thousands of dollars on something that only keeps me high for a few hours at a time?”

“So you’ve thought about it, then?”

“Yes, Ian, life is so horrible that I sat down at my desk with my calculator and figured out just how much money I would be losing if I took the plunge into addiction.”

“You did?”

“Stop, just . . .” I moved past him and made my way into the kitchen. Gabs was leaning against the counter, and her petite little legs looked adorable in the
shorts
. I tried to look away.

But since she didn’t know I was staring . . .

“Lex.” Gabs didn’t turn. “Keep staring, and I’m going to pull one of your balls until it pops.”

“Oooo.” I rubbed my hands together. “Promise?”

She didn’t answer.

Ian brought in the two bags of groceries as per usual when we had family dinner. Blake couldn’t make it because of practice, so it was just us and Serena.

Speaking of. “Where’s Serena?”

Gabs turned and glared. “She moved.”

“To?” I crossed my arms.

“And she ate my chocolate.”

“So you kicked her out?” I laughed.

Gabs didn’t.

Ian held up his hands. “Tread carefully, my friend. That look would get a lesser man killed.”

“Good thing I’m not a lesser man, hmm, Gabs?”

I was pushing, pushing too hard, but I needed the verbal sparring, needed to know I still evoked some sort of emotion from her even if it was all negative.

She rolled her eyes and started unpacking the groceries. It was spaghetti night. Almost every family dinner was, because it was our favorite. “Her boyfriend’s in a band,” explained Gabs, setting the box of pasta on the countertop. “He’s going to make it big someday—her words, not mine—and she wants to travel with him in his super-cool van to make sure no groupies try to steal his virtue.”

“Hold up!” Ian busted out laughing. “Are you talking about the skinny emo dude who has green hair? That guy?”

“His voice is just—” Gabs placed a hand on her heart as her voice took on the high pitch of Serena’s. “He gets me? You know? He gets life!”

“He has a song about hairspray,” Ian pointed out.

“And its dangers to the ozone layer.” Gabs grabbed the Italian bread and started slicing it. “Oh yes, I’m aware.”

She was making me nervous with the knife, so I quickly grabbed it from her hand and pushed her out of the way.

“Wow, you’re actually helping instead of drinking all the wine?” Gabi’s eyebrows arched as a disbelieving smile crept across her features.

“I don’t want blood on the bread.” I drew the knife through the loaf. “I do this for all of us. My intentions are purely selfish, I’m starving, and you were cutting the bread like you thought it was . . . me.”

“Bingo.” Gabs winked.

At least she winked.

I shrugged and got back to cutting while Ian’s eyes narrowed in on me and then on Gabs.

Shit.

“What’s for dessert?” I piped up. It was always her job to get the dessert if we brought ingredients for dinner. I was still dropping off baskets, and I had specifically added in two boxes of brownie mix. “Brownies?”

Gab’s mouth fell open, and then she closed it. “I, uh, actually forgot?”

“That’s okay,” said Ian, letting it go.

I’d just dropped off the basket that morning. How the hell had she eaten two boxes of brownies?

“Nothing? Really?” I stopped slicing bread and went over to her pantry, but her tiny body blocked me.

“What are you doing?” She crossed her arms.

“Um, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“Guys!” Ian held up his hands. “We don’t need dessert, no need to start World War Three.”

“You heard him,” Gabs said.

“Move.” I glared.

“No!”

With a grunt, I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder, then opened the door as her little fists banged into my back.

Empty.

There was nothing in her pantry save for one box of mac and cheese.

Once the door was open she stopped fighting, slumping against me in surrender.

The kitchen fell silent.

What the hell? Pissed, I set her on her feet and carefully gazed at every empty shelf. The pathetic box of mac and cheese didn’t even look new, like the boxes I’d given her.

“Uh, did Serena also take all your food?” Ian joked, though I could tell he was concerned from the way he hovered near Gabs. I was still too angry to say anything.

If she was starving, she should be eating what was in my baskets! Was she seriously that prideful? That she’d dump out free food just because she didn’t want a handout?

With a scowl, I slammed the pantry door.

Gabs jumped a foot, then glared.

“You know what, I’m not hungry,” I snapped, my eyes meeting hers, waiting for her admission, anything. But she was silent, crossing her arms again and staring back in challenge. “I’m gonna head out.”

“I drove,” Ian said.

“I’ll walk.” I needed to leave before I yelled at her or made her cry. Nothing made sense. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just take the food.

Once I was outside in the middle of the sidewalk, I paused.

I’d grabbed a new basket each time.

Meaning if she was dumping the food, she was tossing the baskets in the trash, and it was Tuesday. Trash came Tuesday night.

Yesterday’s and today’s baskets would be in the trash.

I hurried to the back of her house, located her large green trash can, and found my inner raccoon.

Lifting the lid, I started digging through the black bags.

Nothing.

A throat cleared.

I must have been really into my trash digging, because I didn’t hear a damn thing. How hadn’t I heard the squeaky back door open?

“Um . . .” Ian scratched his head. “I’m sure you have a great explanation, right?”

Gabs was standing right behind him.

I snapped the lid to the trash closed as embarrassment washed over me, making my face heat with the awareness that I’d just been caught digging through my enemy’s trash can like a homeless person.

“Yes.” I nodded. “I do have a good reason.”

Ian’s eyebrows arched.

Gabs crossed her arms.

“But . . .” I took two steps back. “First, I have a question for the liar.”

“Liar?” Ian repeated.

“Gabs.” I barked out her name. “You get baskets every day. Baskets full of food. Where the hell are they?”

Her mouth dropped open and then closed. “I, uh, how do you even know about those?”

“Serena.” She wasn’t here to deny it, and I highly doubted Gabs would fact-check me.

“Didn’t know you guys were still . . . cozy,” she accused.

“Cozy enough.” I fought to keep the smirk from my face. She wasn’t jealous, was she? “Now, about those baskets.”

Gabs shook her head, then glanced at Ian’s back. Her eyes met mine again, pleading.

Something clenched in my chest.

“Actually . . .” I cleared my throat. “Serena did say something about a canned food drive . . . for the homeless.”

Ian finally turned around and looked at Gabs. “That’s cool, I didn’t know you were doing charity work too. You should have told me. I would have helped.”

She shifted on her feet before tucking her hair behind her ears and offering a nervous laugh. How he didn’t see through the lie, I had no idea. “Yeah, well, I know you’re busy . . .”

“Changed my mind.” I made my way up the steps. “I’m starved.”

“Great!” Ian rubbed his hands together and made his way into the kitchen, while I grabbed hold of Gabs’s hand and tugged her backward, whispering in her ear, “I hope you have a really good reason for that lie I just told.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she hissed.

“Yeah.” My lips grazed her ear, and her body relaxed against mine. “You kind of did.”

Her head hung.

“Gabs!” Ian yelled loudly. “Lex!” He ran around the corner just as I released my hold on Gabi’s arm. “Just got a text from Blake. She sprained her ankle and needs help grabbing all her stuff from practice. She’s fine, but I’m going to go hang with her.” He looked back and forth between the two of us. “Promise me that if I leave, both of you will still be alive tomorrow.”

“Hah.” I held up my hands in innocence. “Us? Fight? No . . .”

Ian rolled his eyes while Gabs let out a little grunt.

“At least finish cutting the bread so I know no weapons are present. I don’t want to have to tell the police I left you both with sharp objects.” Ian made his way back into the kitchen.

Gabs was hot on his tail and shoved him in the back playfully. “Just go! Your girlfriend needs you, and I swear I won’t cut off Lex’s balls.”

Ian exhaled in relief.

“He’d be expecting it, and I like the sneak approach. I’d wait at least until he was sleeping.”

“You wish.” I pushed her out of the way and grabbed the bottle of wine we’d brought. It was time to drink. Especially if I had to be alone with her. But first I went over to the sink to wash my hands. “Believe me, the only way I’m inviting you into my bed is so I can suffocate you with my pillow.”

“I’ll just stay.” Ian grabbed a chair.

“No!” Gabs and I said in unison as I threw my wet hands into the air, causing water droplets to land on his face.

Ian blinked, then shook his head in dismay.

I spoke up again. “Ian, go. Swear we’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.” He got up again, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Totally.” Gabs nodded, too emphatically; we weren’t very convincing. Then again, I wouldn’t believe us either; legit hospital visits had happened because of us being in the same room together.

Ian’s phone went off. “It’s Blake.” His shoulders slumped. “Just”—he held up his hands as a pleading expression overtook his face—“don’t kill each other.”

Within minutes he was gone.

When I turned, Gabs had a knife in her hand and a devious smirk on her face.

“Oh hell,” I muttered. “We need more alcohol.”

Chapter Sixteen

Gabi

W
e were actually coexisting in the same space, breathing the same air, and not killing one another. We also weren’t talking, so maybe that was the reason. It was horrifying to realize that the only time we didn’t fight was when we were . . . kissing.

I let out a groan.

“Cramps?” Lex piped up. “Because if you want to forgo the whole family-dinner thing, I can leave so you and your tampons can have some personal time.”

Lex’s eyes were dark, soulless pits of hell. At least that was what I told myself whenever I found him attractive, which recently was every single time we were together.

Why was it so hard to focus on all the horrible things he’d done? It was like every time he was nice he erased all the bad with that one good deed. What an asshole thing to do!

Was it on purpose?

“Gabs?” Lex leaned forward. “You’re pale, and you’re staring at my eyes like you want to gouge them out with your fork.”

I lifted the fork into the air. “The idea has merit.”

“I’m too fast for your short legs. You’d end up forking my ass.”

“True.” I finished setting the table. “But it would still hurt, therefore, my life would be complete.”

“Inflicting pain shouldn’t be a life goal, Gabs.”

“Neither should being an asshole, yet here we are.” I smiled sweetly.

Lex breathed out a curse and poured his second glass of wine. I was still on my first. The last thing I needed was to be more loose-lipped in his presence; we really would get in a fight then—and probably burn the house down, leaving me homeless.

He tapped his fingertips against his glass, his full lips pressing together in a small smile. Everything about him sitting at the table with me felt right when it should have felt wrong.

I needed a fight.

Something to remind me that he was a horrible human being.

That the minute I let him in, he’d bite.

And not a good bite but the type that spread a life-altering infection, making it so you were never the same. I’d already nearly given my virginity to one asshole, there was no need to repeat history and actually follow through this time. I was afraid it might actually break me—that he would break me.

I shot to my feet, stalked to the stove, and turned down the sauce. The pasta was already on the table, ready for consumption.

“Need help?” Lex asked, his body heat singeing me from behind! A hand snaked around my body as his finger dipped into the hot sauce and then left.

I imagined his lips around his finger and nearly whimpered aloud.

“At least you can cook, Gabs.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” I didn’t turn around. I wasn’t so sure I could trust myself not to launch my body in his general direction and beg him to kiss me.

My legs wobbled.

Gah! I hated him.

“Can’t I give you a compliment?”

“No,” I growled out, mindlessly stirring the sauce with the wooden spoon. “Because they’re always backhanded. Like ‘You don’t look as fat in that dress as you did last time you wore it,’ or ‘Nice lipstick, I hope it was free’—”

Lex’s hand cupped my face, and his cologne lingered everywhere like a cloud of sex that was impossible to step out of. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to move.

“How about this?” His body brushed against mine, our legs kissing, nearly intertwined as we stood in front of the stove. “I really enjoy your cooking. The end.” He removed his hand.

“The end?” I whispered. “Is that going to be your new thing? I’ll know it’s real if you say ‘the end’?”

“You’ll know it’s real because it’s truth,” he said, still not moving.

A door slammed, and Ian’s voice rang out. “Forgot my coat and it’s raining . . .”

I didn’t listen to the rest of the sentence; I was too busy mourning the loss of Lex’s body as he jerked away from me, leaving me cold, shivering, and completely turned-on.

Yes, folks, he turned me on by breathing.

Crap.

Someone needed to smack me in the face, knock some sense into me. I pleaded with fate to simply turn him back into his full-time assholeness so I could live a marginally normal life without losing my mind in his presence.

I turned around just as Ian ran into the kitchen, grabbed his coat, and then jogged back out.

The tension was thick.

Like the sauce I’d just let boil over. “Crap!” I turned back to the stove and quickly removed the pan.

“Correction.” Lex sauntered over and took the pan from my hands. “You
were
a good cook.”

“The end?” I scrunched up my nose as I looked down at the semi-burnt sauce.

“Yeah.” He gave a firm nod and set the pan in the kitchen sink. “The end.”

My stomach growled on command. He might dump the burnt sauce, but if he didn’t, that sauce and I had a date later. I didn’t care if it had charred pieces of coal in it, I was going to devour every last drop of it.

“I’ll order pizza.” Lex pulled out his cell. “It’s not family dinner unless it’s Italian.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already talking into his phone. “Yeah, can we get two extra-large Hawaiian pizzas, extra pineapple on both of them and Asiago cheese on top?”

Curse him for knowing every weakness I have, starting with pineapple and ending with cheese.

“Cash,” he said into the phone, then fired off my address.

“Feeding an army?” I joked.

“Nah, just you, Sunshine.” He smirked. “And I figure the fatter I keep you, the slower you are when I chase you.”

“Smart.” I nodded. “Prey on the weak, that’s what I always say.”

“Gabs,” Lex said with a chuckle. “I thought you knew . . . I only spar with the strong.”

With that, he walked into the living room and grabbed the remote, flipped on the TV, and set his giant feet onto the table.

“Sunshine!” Lex snapped his fingers behind him but didn’t even turn around. “Wine me?” He held his hand out.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his wineglass, contemplating only briefly, for maybe three seconds, dumping it on his stupid big head.

His stupid, close-shaved, sexy head.

Noooooo!

“Heard that foot stomp!” Lex called.

“Wine.” I shoved it into his hand without spilling it and then sat with him on the couch and did a mental recount of all the horrendous things he’d ever done to me.