The Matchmaker's Replacement [Kindle in Motion] (Wingmen Inc. Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Lex

T
ypically I ate at least six pieces of pizza; some days I ate nine. But that night? I had two.

I was turning into a chick and growing ovaries. Hell, in a few weeks I’d probably start obsessing over Whine About It videos on Buzzfeed and crying over Nicholas Sparks novels.

Because as a dude, you aren’t supposed to forgo any sort of food, especially that of the pizza variety.

Yet there I was.

Still hungry.

Lying about said hunger.

And praying the little liar would save the leftovers and make them her breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“Thanks.” Gabs patted her flat stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that fast before.” Two pieces. She’d had two. What she needed was seven, eight—damn it, maybe the whole pizza.

I swallowed my question, knowing she wouldn’t answer it anyway. Instead, I stood and pretended I was going in the general direction of her bathroom. When she was out of sight, I took a hard right by the hall closet.

I opened it.

Nothing.

Not even a flipping coat.

Did I have to start buying her winter apparel as well?

“Damn,” I muttered, closing it softly before making my way upstairs, careful to avoid the third and sixth creaky stairs.

If I didn’t hurry up she was going to think I was taking a shit in her bathroom, and that was the last thing I wanted her to assume—which was a first, considering I lived to piss her off.

I quickly made my way into Serena’s room. It held only boxes, no baskets, and her closet was empty.

The upstairs hallway was the same.

And Blake’s old room had nothing but dust in it.

When I finally made it to Gabi’s room, I’d been gone around six minutes; things weren’t looking so hot.

I pushed open her door and greedily searched around, my eyes zeroing in on seven baskets in the corner.

And the notes from the baskets in a small pile next to them.

She’d kept the notes?

“What the hell are you doing?” Gab yelled from behind me.

“Uh.” I turned, offering an apologetic smirk. “Looking through your underwear drawer?”

“That’s sick, even for you, Lex.” She stomped over to me and tugged my arm toward the door. “Get out!”

“What does that mean, even for me?”

“You’re a complete slut!” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m surprised you’re not dead from an STD.”

“Unfair.” I held my ground, planting my feet against the wood floor. “I haven’t even slept with anyone in over two weeks!”

She gasped. “Oh I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a personal record? Wrote that one down, did ya? Good job, Lex, you kept it in your pants for fourteen days. Your sacrifice has been noted. Hey, maybe the Catholic church will name a saint after you!”

My eyes narrowed as she uncomfortably bit her lip and looked at the baskets in the corner, then back at me.

“I already saw them, stop fidgeting.”

She stared through me. “What do you know?”

“What don’t I know?”

“Lex.”

“Gabs.”

Another foot stomp. “You drive me crazy!”

“And being with you is a picnic?” I sputtered. “You argue over everything! Why can’t you just leave things alone?”

“Because!” she yelled, her pitch rising as she clenched her fists at her sides. “And why are you in my room?”

“Where’s all the food?” I blurted. “I see the baskets, but your pantry’s empty, and I know for a fact there were two boxes of brownie mix when it was . . . dropped off.”

“You!” She jabbed my chest with her finger. “It’s you? You’re Spider-Man?”

“We’ve been over this before, Gabs. I’m the villain, try to keep up.” I coughed into my hand and looked away, needing time to come up with a lie. “I, uh, was running this morning, because I run, and I saw the basket. That’s all.”

We were chest to chest, and she peered up at me from beneath her thick black lashes. “Now who’s lying?”

“Calling my bluff?” A smile erupted before I could stop it. She was so tiny, and yet I experienced a bit of terror whenever she was angry, and whenever that anger was directed at me, which was daily.

“Lex.” She backed up, and my body yearned to press against hers again. “Just . . . no fighting, no . . . whatever this is.” She stared down at the floor. “Are you the one dropping off food?”

I licked my lips.

One of her eyebrows arched.

Damn it. “Yes.”

Her face softened, and she managed to look both pissed off and slightly ashamed at the same time.

“Oh no you don’t!” I held up my hands. “Do not give me that look! I’d rather you threaten to run me over with your car, Gabs. I am
not
that guy, so don’t.” I closed my eyes and turned around just as she wrapped her tiny little arms around my waist and squeezed.

“You found your heart!” Her teasing tone was back as she sidestepped the giant issue in front of us—where the hell the food was even going—and attacked me.

“Oh dear God, this is hell, isn’t it?” I pried myself from her arms and turned around, gripping her wrists. “Gabs, don’t read into this. This isn’t a peace offering or any other friendship crap you’ve got going on in that tiny, small little head of yours.” I dropped her wrists. “I just . . .” The last thing I wanted was to be her friend, for her to think it was okay for me to step into that territory while completely ignoring where I wanted to step, or lie, or just . . . screw. “Ian said something about you being short on funds, you took that extra job, and it just seemed like it might help. Besides, Ian’s been busy with Blake and he doesn’t notice shit anymore, which means all that shit piles onto my shit and stresses me out. Therefore, the baskets. Just filling in where he can’t, that’s all.”

There, that sounded good.

Gabs’s face fell. “Yeah, he’s been really busy lately.”

“Yes, let’s talk about Ian. How do you feel about his newfound romance?”

“I’m glad you asked. Honestly, I don’t think that—”

“Stop it!” I yelled. “That was a test! You failed! I don’t have tits, this isn’t a slumber party, and if you yell ‘pillow fight,’ you sure as hell better be naked!” I took a step backward, my legs colliding with her bed. “This changes nothing.”

“It changes nothing,” Gabs repeated.

The room fell silent.

If the baskets were our elephant . . .

The sexual tension between us was a freaking dinosaur.

Gabi’s annoying ring tone went off. Thank God.

She reached for her phone and pulled it out. “Yeah? Okay, I can fill in. Sure . . . No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Who was that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you under the impression we were friends?” Gabs tilted her head.

“I merely wanted to get the point across that I wasn’t some chick you could gossip with, that’s all.”

“Exactly.” She smirked. “Now out, I need to change.”

“I’m really great at getting women out of their clothes. It would probably be faster if you let me help.”

“Ahh, the asshole’s back.” She made a sad face. “I missed you.”

I made a heart shape with my hands and held it out to her, then flipped her off and made my way out of her room. A pillow slammed into my head just as I was about to walk down the stairs.

“Seriously?” I roared.

“Stop being such a cheap ass and getting the small bags of Pirate’s Booty. Girl’s gotta eat, Lex. Just saying.”

“Stop bitching,” I grumbled with a grin that didn’t disappear the entire night, not even when I woke up at two in the morning and made a quick shopping list.

Damn it.

She was in.

And there was no way I was going to be able to get her out.

Stupid heart.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Lex.

My prayer that night was that Ian would at least let me explain before he shot me in the face.

Chapter Eighteen

Gabi

Y
our attention to detail needs some serious work.” Lex closed the binder that held all of my progress reports. “How about a trade?”

“I’m listening.” I leaned forward, propping my elbows on his kitchen table.

Lex slid a grape over to me. “You give me better progress reports on clients, more than a one-word answer, meaning you separate business and personal, and I give you food.”

I stared down at the grape. “Hmm, you gonna make me a rewards chart too? With stickers?”

His blank stare wasn’t comforting. “That depends. Are you six?”

I popped the
grape
into my mouth. “I was kidding, Lex. And what kind of food are we talking about here?”

“Baskets of food.” It had been two weeks of baskets. Two glorious weeks. I was so thankful I could cry, but for some reason it
seemed to piss him off when I said thank you. So instead I pretended I deserved them, and he continued dropping them off.

The notes were getting more and more hilarious: “From the villain who lives under your bed.”

Friday’s was “From the badass antihero who kicked Superman’s ass, which was sadly never recorded in comic book history.”

“I’ll let you pick what you want in your basket,” Lex grumbled while I danced in my chair. “But!” He held up his hand. “Be realistic. Don’t go asking for puppies and shit.”

“I would never ask for shit.” I held up my hand as if swearing to him.

“Gabs . . .”

“Or puppies.” I slumped in my chair. “What about for Christ
mas, though?”

“I’m sorry, are you under the impression that I’m giving you baskets until Christmas? And why won’t you tell me where all the food goes? You haven’t gained thirty pounds in the last two weeks. Therefore, you’re sharing it.”

“A girl’s got her secrets.” I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the entire situation. Guilt stabbed me in the chest. I was
thankful, sure, but he was spending his own money because I was giving all of mine away.

It was for my family, but still.

“So.” Lex pulled open his laptop. “Things with Steve seem to be going well. You’ve moved past making Stella jealous and straight on to her basically stalking him. Well done.”

I grabbed another grape. “All in a day’s work.”

“When’s your end goal with him? This weekend?”

Anxiety spread across my body. “Well, I took a double shift at the club this weekend, so . . . can I do it maybe Sunday?”

A muscle popped in Lex’s jaw. “Gabs, I’m not trying to be an ass, but a key part of Wingmen Inc. is that we promise to get the job done fast, so I need you to be focused on that, not taking double shifts at the club. I know funds are tight, but once you’re done with Steve we can talk about giving you more clients.”

I hated that he was right. Shame made it hard to breathe. So did the fact that my dad still hadn’t found a job, and my mom’s job only brought in enough to cover the essentials. Last visit she’d cried when I’d dropped off my check.

Apparently, they hadn’t been able to purchase groceries and, for the first time in her life, she had to go apply for state aid, only to find out that they still made too much.

And that was the sucky part about our system. They had no debt besides the mortgage and one car, but they lived on the other side of Lake Washington! It was even more expensive than Seattle. Their house payment was nearly three grand a month. Add in one car payment, food, and everything else, and things were tight, even without me living at home.

She said they’d missed the mark by a hundred dollars.

“Um, Gabs?” Lex tossed a pencil at me. “You paying attention?”

“Yeah, sorry, just tired.” I yawned. I really was exhausted. Between working for Lex, trying to find a new roommate, being late on the last rent payment, and working doubles, I was done.

My classes were ridiculously hard, and I’d failed my last Human Anatomy test.

Things weren’t exactly looking up. I’d even thought briefly about quitting school for a semester to work full time, but my parents would kill me.

“Just finish up with Steve this Sunday and let me know if you plan on taking any more double shifts with the club, okay?” Lex asked, his tone gentler this time.

I had to respect his business sense.

Just because I was Ian’s friend and his . . . employee didn’t mean that I got special treatment. He’d tell any of his employees the same thing. Be on time, get the job done on time, and don’t waste his time.

“Got it.” I nodded just as my phone rang again. I let out another groan. They were going to ask me to work.

“I gotta get this.” I slid the phone out of my pocket. “Yeah?”

“You’re late.”

“What?” I frowned and looked at the house clock. “No, I’m not on shift today.”

“Bell said you were taking her shift.”

Damn Bell! That was the second time in a row.

“You need to be here in fifteen minutes or I’m going to have to let you go.”

“What?” I yelled into the phone. “But I’m never late, I—”

“Get here, Gabrielle.” The phone went dead.

Tears blurred my vision. “Gotta go, Lex.” I grabbed my stuff and hurried out of the house.

My car was giving me trouble. I prayed it would start.

It did.

Luckily I’d been working so much I had my uniform in the backseat. I parked in front of the club ten minutes later, grabbed my uniform, and charged in through the double doors. My apologies fell on deaf ears—they always did, because even though I did everything right . . .

I was hated.

Because I was the only waitress in the club’s history who had refused a promotion to the stage.

The girls called me goody-goody.

The men thought I was a prude.

And my boss thought I was ungrateful.

I really needed to find another job, but nothing paid me as well as this one did.

The next two hours were hell, and I still had two more to go.

“Your dress isn’t as tight as it used to be.” Lex’s familiar voice was like a balm to my soul—words I thought I’d never think or say aloud.

“That’s probably a good thing.” I grabbed a napkin and placed it on his table. “What will it be?”

“A beer and water.”

“Preference?”

“Anything that’s going to get that asshole boss of yours to allow me to stay as a paying customer. Keep them coming.”

His kindness floored me. Why was he even there?

“Are you, um, meeting someone?” I asked when I returned with his drink and water.

Lex burst out laughing. “I’m alone . . . Unless you’re offering to join me?”

“Ha-ha.” My laugh was awkward, uncomfortable. “I only have one break, and I was going to take it—”

“Now.” He pulled out a chair and slid the water over to me.

Lex wasn’t necessarily bossy; commanding was more like it. So when he said things, I either argued to keep myself from falling for him, or I listened because he was usually right.

And he was.

Right, that is.

My feet ached.

I winced as I sat my butt down and kicked off my heels.

Without any sort of warning, Lex grabbed both of my ankles, jerking my chair closer to his with a loud squeak, and then placed my feet in his lap.

“What are you—?”

Strong hands started massaging my right foot, hitting every single pressure point. With a shudder, I flexed my toes, then leaned back as a moan escaped my lips.

“Holy shit!” Lex burst out laughing. “Did I find your kryptonite, Supergirl?”

He hadn’t called me that in years.

I opened one eye to stare him down, and I probably looked like an exhausted cyclops, scaring the super villain away. “Hmm?”

No words would come. It felt too good, and my feet hurt so bad.

His thumbs massaged up and down, pushing in around my heel. “I never knew you had an off button. I feel like I just discovered a new world or something.”

“Yesss.” I choked out the word as he pressed harder into my arch, making me nearly come off my chair.

The massaging stopped.

I opened my eyes.

And the hunger was back.

Lex’s chest was heaving.

He slowly dropped one of my feet onto the floor and moved to the other, gripping my left foot hard and then pressing his thumbs into the middle while delicately caressing down the sides.

With a wicked grin, he twisted his thumb in the middle of my foot.

I arched off the chair, my foot landing on his crotch.

I tried to jerk away, embarrassed that I’d basically just kicked him in the junk, but he kept it there.

My eyes widened as I realized why.

Danger! Danger!

My mind screamed for me to pull back while my body remained perfectly still.

The logical part of my brain refused to listen to all the red flags popping up all over the place, instead focusing on his arousal.

And the fact that I’d been the one to cause it.

Again.

Was it me?

Or were all guys like that?

I didn’t have enough experience to know.

All I knew was that I wanted Lex to look at me like that forever. His lips parted as he wet his lower lip and then huffed out a short breath.

I moved my foot.

His eyes closed.

I moved my foot again as his hands went limp.

“Gabi!” my boss yelled above the music. “Break time’s over! You can flirt with your boyfriend on your own time!”

“He’s not—”

“Now!” he yelled.

“Sorry.” I fumbled for my shoes while Lex stared at me. I could have sworn his eyes were burning holes through my body.

“Thanks for the, um . . .” I couldn’t look at him. “For that.”

“Gabi.” Lex said my name, my real name. “I’ll be here.”

That was it.

No snide remark.

No rude comment.

My shoulders relaxed, and with a nod in his direction, I grabbed my tray and walked off.