The Matchmaker's Playbook

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

By the time Blake made it back to my house, I was showered and downstairs watching Game of Thrones reruns. When the knock sounded at the door, I knew exactly who it was.

I stood just as Lex went to open it.

Oh shit. I’d have to explain why she was back.

“Hey, Lex,” Blake stood up on her tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, and moved past him into the kitchen, like she was on girlfriend terms.

Curious, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she set two takeout bags down and started pulling out boxes.

Lex pouted, leaning toward her a little closer than I would have liked. “Please tell me you got food for me too.”

I growled from my spot on the couch.

“Oh, hey, Ian. Didn’t see you,” Lex lied.

I gave him the finger while Blake continued piling an insane amount of takeout onto the table.

“I got your favorite.” Blake grinned at my roommate like they were besties. What the hell? “Chow mein, right?”

“With pork?”

I choked on my bottle of water, then shot to my feet, dizzily making my way toward the bar.

“Of course.” She scooted the tray over, while the smell of Thai food, Chinese, and . . .

“Panera Bread,” I shouted, louder than necessary.

“Forgive Ian,” Lex said. “Sometimes I think he loves food more than sex.”

“And sometimes”—I sat—“depending on the girl, that’s true.”

Blake bit down on her lip, her face paling briefly before she scooted a black plastic bowl of soup in my direction.

She’d paled when I mentioned sex.

So that meant she was either jealous it wasn’t her, or totally disgusted that I was the type of guy to go out and just have mindless sex with equally mindless girls.

I frowned down at the soup.

“Is it too hot?” Blake asked, coming around the bar and handing me a napkin.

She smelled like burnt vanilla. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, parts of the wavy golden-brown mess still wet. Face makeup-free except for eyelash stuff and some lip gloss.

I suppressed a groan. Damn, she really was pretty. All of her.

Even in the boyfriend sweats that I’d finally let her buy. In pink. Oh, her and pink.

I glanced down.

The flip-flops had made another appearance, though for some reason it was like as long as she was wearing them, in my mind, we were still on equal footing. Like the minute she was no longer comfortable around me was the minute I was going to lose my shit and just . . . I don’t know. I hadn’t planned that far, because I wasn’t going to let it happen.

“Yes,” I blurted. “The soup’s freakishly hot.” I leaned forward until my mouth was inches from hers. “Blow?”

“You want me to blow on your soup,” she said in a deadpan voice. “Are you twelve?”

“Thirteen,” Lex piped up. “Quick, tell her about the facial hair you just got. Oh, and his testicles dropped about two days ago, so if he’s handsy, just know . . . he’s brand-new and a bit horny.”

“I’m sad”—I glared at Lex—“that Gabi didn’t succeed in chopping your balls off.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he grumbled, his expression losing some of its exuberance.

“Also”—I grabbed my spoon while Blake handed me some French bread—“Gabi said next time you touch her tits, she’s going to run you over with a lawn mower.”

Lex snorted. “Like she could even start it. And I wasn’t touching any part of her.” He shivered. “Do I look like I want an incurable disease? Hell, I was trying to feel her forehead, and my hands . . . slipped.”

“From her forehead.” I grinned. “That’s . . . wow . . . impressive. Must have been wearing a hell of a push-up bra.”

I lifted the soup to my lips and dropped my spoon. “Shit, that really is hot.”

Blake rolled her eyes, then leaned in and blew over the tomato soup, her plump lips forming the perfect O.

I watched.

Even Lex watched.

The room went dead silent.

She finally glanced up at us.

Lex turned around and started whistling while I continued staring. “You blow well,” I said in my most romantic voice.

“Coming from you”—she shook her head—“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.”

I kept my face impassive when really I hated that she thought of me that way. And I never cared what girls thought.

Because for the most part, the girls I was around didn’t really do that often—you know, think about anything past having sex. There were no feelings involved, no sharing, just mutual pleasure. Up until now, I’d thought myself lucky to find women who only wanted to get off. Now? It felt like I’d been missing something. Something important.

“Eat.” Blake winked and pulled out a chicken salad and started diving into it like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Again, Lex and I paused.

Me because I was absolutely fascinated to see a woman other than Gabi eat food and not talk about dieting.

Lex because his biggest turn-on was Carl’s Jr. commercials. It was his porn. Go figure.

I was never letting Blake eat burgers in front of him. Ever.

Not even the cheap ninety-nine-cent kind from McDonald’s.

“Um . . .” I coughed into my hand when she glanced up and looked at us. “You have chicken just . . . right . . . there.” I pointed to the side of her mouth.