Chapter Thirteen
By the time I’d pulled up to the house, I’d convinced myself that Blake had only twenty-four hours to live, and the only way for her to survive was for me to have lots and lots of sweaty sex with her.
Somehow in my daydream I’d gone from washed-up NFL player to sporting a flight suit and aviators, like Tom Cruise in Top Gun.
And since she was a nursing major, a personal favorite when it came to my erotic fantasies, she was wearing a naughty nurse outfit, with thigh-highs and red heels.
My body tightened painfully as I tried in vain to keep myself from exploding from my own stupid fantasies. How had I gone from wanting to check in on her to wanting to be in her?
Damn, my imagination was graphic.
I jogged up to the house, let myself in, and yelled, “Gabi! Blake! Serena! Anyone home?”
“Geez.” Gabi rose from the couch looking like a zombie. “Some people are trying to sleep.”
“Sorry, sport.” I walked over and ruffled her hair. “Didn’t see you there. Cute hair. You joining the nice homeless people under the bridge later for an orgy?”
Her catlike eyes narrowed as she snorted in disgust and weakly pushed against my chest. “I’m sick, you ass.”
I jumped to my feet and stumbled back, colliding with the lamp and sending it to the floor with a loud clang.
“Oh, please!” She blew her nose into a Kleenex, and the bun on the top of her head bobbed with a jerk. “You’re lucky you don’t have the clap from all the sex you have! And you’re afraid of a little cold.”
“I really hate germs,” I pointed out, setting the lamp back on the table but still keeping a good distance between me and the diseased.
Gabi tossed the Kleenex at my face. I ducked and moved farther out of the way.
“Ian,” she growled. “You sleep with germs all the time.”
“I Lysol them before I sleep with them. It’s part of the procedure before I bang them against the wall and allow them the honor of a blow job.”
She scowled.
“Or bed . . .”
Her eyes narrowed even further.
“Though last week it was a door.”
She groaned.
“We broke it.”
“Enough!” More snot-rags flew in my direction. “Why are you here?”
“I, uh.” Shit, I couldn’t lie to my best friend. “I had an idea for Blake, and texting while driving is frowned upon. Haven’t you seen the billboards?”
“You couldn’t just call her?”
“I never call clients unless absolutely necessary.”
I never do at-home check-ins either, but . . .
“She’s upstairs. A pipe broke in the bathroom, and water was everywhere. I was going to call the plumber, but she said something about her friend’s dad being a plumber, and suddenly some tall dude showed up and said he could fix it in a jiffy.” Gabi lay back down. “Who says ‘jiffy’ anymore?”
“Good thing you can fix pipes!” Blake’s voice filtered from upstairs.
“I clean them too.” The familiar voice laughed.
“David.” I spat his name.
“Who?” Gabi tried getting up, but I smothered her mouth with a pillow and shushed her. She flailed underneath it. “Can’t. Breathe.”
“Stop talking or I really will suffocate you,” I hissed, dropping the pillow to the floor while I kneeled next to the couch, my ears ringing with static as I tried to listen to their conversation.
“I don’t get what the big deal is.”
I lifted the pillow and gave Gabi a threatening look.
She threw her hands into the air.
“So I think”—some sort of heavy tool dropped to the ground with a clang; a real tool, not David, damn it—“that should about do it.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I smacked Gabi’s head with the pillow.
“Gee, I wonder why,” Gabi said in a mocking voice. “Because when the dishwasher broke, you said the only way to fix it was for me to dance in front of it topless, then shimmy across the floor in coconut oil.”
I smirked. “Tell me you didn’t at least consider it.”
“And you wonder why I dream of your death.”
I waved her off with the pillow. “You love me.”
“It’s always very vivid. Last night you were hit by a car.”
“Nice car?” I asked.
She shrugged and snatched the pillow out of my hands. “Honda.”
“Harsh. Must have been an ex-bedmate.”
“Most of them drive Jettas.”
“Weird, right? Every once in a while, a Honda pops up, though, or a cute little Nissan. But those girls tend to want more than one night, and I’m only one man, so . . .”
Footsteps sounded against the stairs.
I froze in my position on the floor, kneeling next to my sick friend as David’s head appeared, and then his long, lean body. He was wearing torn jeans and a white T-shirt. I prayed he’d shown ass crack and had an unholy amount of crack hair waving in Blake’s direction while he fixed the damn pipe.
Blake followed, her smile wide, excited.
Great. That was just wonderful. I was so pleased with my new client and her ability to attract Crack Man.
“Thanks again, David.” Blake crossed her arms. Did she really not know what that did to a guy? Cleavage galore poured out from her tight black running top.
Wait, I hadn’t bought her that. Where the hell did she get it?
I coughed.
Lame move. I knew it, and Gabi knew it by the arch of her brow. Even the damn pillow seemed to be judging me as it puffed out in my direction.
“Are you getting sick too?” Blake uncrossed her arms and made her way toward me.
“Very,” I said with a nod.
Gabi opened her mouth in protest, then let out a little yelp while I pinched her leg.
“Oh no.” Blake felt my forehead, and her hands were cool. Hey, maybe I really was coming down with something. Frowning, she leaned down, pressing her lips to my temple. Nursing majors. Freaking loved them.
“Blake?” David said from the door. “I’m sure he’s fine, and the last thing you need is to get sick before your big test on Friday. Why don’t we go get ice cream or something?”
Damn, he was moving fast.
Faster than I’d anticipated.
Damn it.
What? Suddenly he sees she actually has boobs and a guy that pays more attention to her and he wants to get ice cream? Like they’re ten?
I coughed again, this time really selling it. Bastard wanted to play? I’d play.
I hacked and then gently pushed Blake away. “He’s right. The last thing I want is to get you sick, and after . . . last night . . . you may already be coming down with something.” My voice rasped, heated, wrapped her up in its sexual innuendo, and promised to never let go.
Blake’s mouth dropped open. I gave a slight shake of my head.
“You’re right.” She sighed, defeated. “I’m probably already contagious.”
“Most likely,” I said and nodded, pretending to be sad. “I’m sorry, babe. If I had known, I wouldn’t have put my mouth all over you like that. Damn, I’m such an ass.”
David’s hands tightened around the bag he was holding.
“Sorry,” I mumbled toward him. “I forgot you were here.”
“Rain check?” Blake said in a hopeful voice to David. “I’d hate for you to get sick and miss the big game.”
Big game? What big game? I really needed to start paying better attention to his schedule.
But he was a basketball player.
Was he an athlete? Absolutely.
Did he get hit by three-hundred-pound men every few seconds? No.
So was he badass? Like me?
Not even close.
He dealt with sweaty men and balls.
I used to deal with testosterone-crazed linemen.
Used to.
Damn ache in my knee.
“You’re right.” David eyed me cautiously. “Well, you have my number now, so . . .”
“Yup.” Blake stood, her boobs bouncing. I watched like a cat who’d just been given his first ball of yarn.
Want. To. Touch.
“I’ll see ya around!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Mother of—
I looked away. I had to. Otherwise, I’d have had to explain to everyone in the room why the plague caused erections. And that just . . . didn’t seem like the best conversation to be having with a client.
A client. A client. A client.
Maybe if I kept repeating her status in my life, I wouldn’t be so damn ready to turn her over the table and—
“Ian?” Blake was suddenly in front of me. Shit, had I said any of that out loud? I glanced to Gabi for help.
She was staring at the pillow, completely ignoring me.
Meaning she was pissed. She knew I wasn’t treating Blake like a normal client. I’d have to be more careful in the future.
I jolted to my feet and started firing off the usual. “Next time he invites you over, you say you’re busy. You’re always busy until I say you’re free, got it? Rule number three in the playbook clearly states this in painful detail.”
Blake took a step backward and nodded seriously.
“And you don’t let him call you or coerce you into hanging out, not when you’re technically with another dude. It makes you look easy and doesn’t make our relationship look real.”
Gabi’s eyes narrowed as she looked at us. “Is anything going on that I should—?”
“You’re sick, Gabs.” I shoved the pillow over her face. “You know what they say, ‘Sleep, sleep, sleep!’”
“She can’t breathe.” Blake pointed at the pillow.
“She breathes through her hair.” I nodded. “She’s fine.”
Gabi shoved both me and the pillow away and gasped.
“See? Totally fine.” I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I’ll see you guys later.”
I ran out of the house, sweating.
And not because I was sick, but because I had a feeling I was about to be. Things were moving way too fast with her and David. I had a sudden desire to look more deeply into their program.
I just hoped Lex was home to help.