The Matchmaker's Playbook

“Dumbo?” Blake laughed. “You saw Dumbo?”

“I was always terrified of big ears when I was little.” Why was I saying this out loud? Why? Why? Why, God? Why? But it just kept happening. “I think it was because they used to call me Big Ears, and then once the kids discovered Dumbo . . . it was the beginning of the end. I refused to even eat elephant ears, because I assumed that meant my ears would grow more. How sad, to miss out on the best part of the fair.”

“In you go,” Blake said, ignoring my elephant-ear comment.

Slowly, I lowered myself, with her help, into the tub, and screamed out obscenities I’m sure no lady of her nature should ever have to hear.

“Son of a bitch!” I screamed. “I hate you. I don’t like you anymore. I take it back. All of it. Get me out! Why is it so cold?”

“It’s not cold.” Blake held me down. “It just feels that way because you’re so hot. We have to get your fever down.”

“I’m always hot, Blake.” I slapped her hand against my forehead. “See? Feel? I’m healed. Miraculous recovery.” I winced as the throbbing pain continued, then nearly laughed my ass off as I saw an honest-to-God Dumbo fly out in front of me. “I just hate big ears. Why does nobody understand?”

“Big ears suck,” Blake joined in. “And so do fevers. So I need you to cooperate while I keep filling the tub, okay?”

I leaned back, teeth chattering. “Worst moment of my life. This is a close second.”

Blake turned to me, her eyes curious. “What’s the first?”

“When I almost died.”

She was silent.

“I just died in your arms tonight,” I sang as my eyes started to close. “The tub isn’t so bad, Blake.”

“I know.”

“I think we could be best friends. I only have two. I’m killing them off soon, though, so there’s a vacancy.”

“Good to know.”

“But you have to cook for me.”

Blake’s musical laughter made my body clench tight, but the cold water prevented any embarrassments. Wait, why was I in water? Why was Blake here?

“I cooked for my dad and brother all the time.”

“Really? Is your brother as pretty as you?”

Blake’s eyes softened. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached blindly for her hand. I was so tired, but it was important to comfort her, just be there for her. I could tell in the way she suddenly slumped, as if forgetting all of the stages of her transformation from insecure to a confident woman. “Dying sucks.”

I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah.” She let out a chuckle and shook her head. “It really does, Ian.”

“Blake?”

“Yup.” She turned off the water with her free hand. I was still clutching the other.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Despite my big ears?”

“Because of your big ears.”

“That’s what all the ladies”—I yawned—“say.”

“Bet they do . . .”

The pounding started to subside. I don’t remember getting out of the tub, but I do remember the feel of Blake’s hand as I fell into a restful sleep.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

My hand was touching something soft. Eyes shut, I squeezed, then squeezed again. Oh wow, good dream. Very vivid. Like her breasts were really there, in my room, in my bed. In my hand.

Well, since I was dreaming . . .

I climbed on top of Blake and used both hands, cupping their heaviness, giving another squeeze as my fingertips went to her nipples.

Her eyes flashed open.

“Clearly you’re feeling better,” she hissed, then with a grunt shoved me off of her.

“Nope,” I said with a chuckle. “Still delirious. Where we at with that nurse costume?”

Blake quickly pulled on a hooded sweatshirt, covering up her white tank top and short black shorts. “No nurse costume. You’re healed. And I have to get to practice.”

“What kind of nurse are you? You sleep with your patient, then leave at first light! I should fire you.” I grinned, then patted the spot next to me. “Five more minutes?”

“Hey, I’m just following the rules, coach! Doesn’t it say in your contract that you can’t legally sleep with your clients?” She winked.

Damn, she was adorable. I wanted to kiss that sexy mouth of hers.

“Sex,” I said with a nod. “Not sleep. Sleep is encouraged. Did you know at least sixty percent of insomniacs turn to homicide?”

“That’s a lie.” She crossed her arms. “And I really do need to get to practice.”

“Fine.” I moved to get up.

“Wait!” She threw her hands in front of her.

But she was too late.

The sheet fell away, and I was completely naked, leaving me staring down at my own body and wondering if it was going to offend her that my little groping had clearly had an effect on my manhood.

“About that.” I pointed. “It’s morning.”

“Sure.” Her cheeks were bright red. “I’ll just . . .” She backed up into the dresser, knocking over my cologne along with some ChapStick. She quickly bent over to pick them up.

I let out a groan as her ass waved in the air. “Not helping, Blake.”

With a thump, she pushed the objects back onto the dresser and reached for the doorknob, only to miss it three times before yelling bye and slamming the door behind her.