The Matchmaker's Playbook
“Fantastic.” I slipped him a twenty, patted him on the back, and turned to Blake. “Shall we?”
Her eyes freaking lit up like I was sunshine. “Why, yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“Mr. Hunter was my father.” I shivered uncomfortably. “And if rumors from my nanny are believed to be correct, he was a horny bastard. To you, I’m always Ian.”
“Hah!” Blake laughed. “Rumor has it so are you . . .” With a sigh, she whispered my name again. “Ian.”
The way she said my name always had a dizzying effect on my senses. Funny, because for years I’d been surrounded by hot chicks who freaking shouted it from the rooftops, yet it never reverberated in my chest the way it did when Blake uttered it.
A tiny moan crossed her lips. “This place smells so good.”
The waiter stopped by, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.
Back off, dude.
“I’m Julio. I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you started with anything?”
“Two lime margaritas on the rocks,” I said before Blake could open her mouth.
“Salt on the rim?” Julio asked.
“Sugar.” I licked my lips while staring at Blake’s mouth.
“Got it.” He walked off.
“Rule number four.” Chips and salsa were placed in front of us. “Two drinks. Never three . . . or four. You may be nervous, but if you go past two, you start to lose your inhibitions, and things can easily go downhill really fast. Two is a safe number, but only if you’ve eaten normally that day.”
Blake shoved a chip into her mouth. “Do I look like one of those girls who doesn’t eat normally? I eat, Ian. I can’t help it.”
“Don’t want you to.” I laughed as she hungrily grabbed another chip. “Plus, you need food with all that cardio you’ll be doing later.”
The chip paused midair. “Cardio?”
“Sex.” I nodded. “Isn’t that what you want to eventually do with David?”
Her face paled. “I, uh, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Come again?” I was in dangerous territory. She was my client, and I should have been worried that she hadn’t thought about it rather than elated.
“I don’t think about David and sex.”
Our drinks arrived. Julio cleared his throat. “Tonight’s special is—”
“Give us a minute.”
He walked off while I was still staring at Blake like she’d lost her mind. “Sweet cheeks, it’s going to happen eventually.”
She shifted in her seat, tucked her hair nervously behind her ear, and then leaned forward. “I don’t want to think about it, because it makes me want to puke. I’m going to be horrible, he’s going to hate it, and I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
“Rule number five.” I shook my head slowly. “Guys never hate sex. If they don’t get off, it’s either because they mistook numbing cream for K-Y, or they’re gay and you lack the goods to get them there.”
“K-Y?”
“Still need a minute?” Julio asked.
I glared.
He held up his hands and walked off. What, were we his only table or something?
Blake started downing her drink.
“Blake”—I grabbed her wrist and helped her set her drink down—“if you can’t think about sex with him, should you be . . . going on a date with him? I mean, why use my help?”
“It’s just moving so fast.” She grabbed another chip and chomped down. “I wanted him to notice me, not take me to bed two weeks after your little plan worked.”
“Okay.” I leaned back. “So tell him no.”
“I can do that, right?”
“Rule number six,” I said softly. “You can always—and I do mean always—say no. In fact, when it comes to David, I strongly encourage it. Who knows where his dick has been. Maybe he has herpes. How would you even know?”
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
“Good, no sex. Go to a nunnery. Lex and I will sneak in chocolate and wine for you every year on your birthday.” I reached across the table and patted her hand. “Blessings, child.”
Blake glared, but she was laughing all the same. “Stop!”
“Okay.” I grabbed a menu. “Let’s order before Julio spits in our tacos.”
Our drinks were already empty. Huh, when did that happen? We both quickly decided on a variety of tacos to share and ordered another round of drinks.
“To our first date.” Blake lifted her glass into the air and clinked it against mine.
“To our first date,” I repeated. But my mind kept reminding me that it was also going to be the last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“We broke a rule,” Blake announced. “You had two margaritas and a tequila shot.”
“Because”—I laughed and tugged her against me, burrowing my face in her neck—“you’d never done a tequila shot. I felt sorry for you. Besides, aren’t rules meant to be broken?”
Blake glanced up at me, tilting her mouth so close that I had no choice but to lean down.
“Your paddleboards are ready,” the employee announced.
“Wait, what?” Panic crossed Blake’s features. “We just had a ton of food, not to mention a tequila shot, and we have to somehow paddle our way back?”