The Matchmaker's Playbook (12 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

“Lex!” I shouted for him the minute I stepped over the threshold. “Emergency meeting. Now!”

Lex appeared a few seconds later, black-rimmed glasses sitting low on his nose, pen in his mouth. I was only slightly irritated that glasses made him look smarter than he already was.

“What up?”

And then he went and used phrases like “what up,” and I felt so much better about my place in the world.

“David. What’s his deal? She’s working through the steps really fast, and he seems to be falling for it, but something just feels off with him.” Actually, it was me, all me, but I’d die before admitting that. “Can you pull up his file?”

Lex’s eyes narrowed. “David’s file? You want to look at his file?”

“Why are you repeating what I just asked you?”

Lex leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, I don’t know. Because normally you just look at the summary I toss in the packet. What gives?”

“Curiosity,” I lied.

“Uh-huh.” Lex smirked, then moved into the living room where his laptop was sitting. “And would this curiosity have anything to do with your inability to keep yourself from wanting to bang the client?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t bang clients.”

“Yet.”

“The minute I have sex with a client is the minute this turns into a very lucrative prostitution ring, okay?”

Lex held up his hands, then leaned back in the chair as the Wingmen Inc. graph popped up on the screen.

David Hughes and Blake Olson match = 87% success past first 30 days.

“Eighty-seven?” I repeated. “Isn’t that kind of high?”

Lex clicked down to the rest of the stats, mainly numbers that we’d plugged in after Blake’s questionnaire, where Lex correlated with David’s interests, background, grades, study habits, eating habits, relationships, and, yes, even his medical history.

Lex hacked.

Sure it was semi-illegal. Or maybe fully illegal. But we were helping people. I had my speech for the FBI all ready to go, if it ever came to that.

“Who the hell’s allergic to raisins?” I blurted, reading through the medical history.

Lex slammed the computer shut and turned. “If I see a headline in tomorrow’s newspaper about how the starting point guard for the Huskies nearly dies from anaphylactic shock, should I be worried? Or just give the police our address?”

I laughed. “Please, like I would stoop that low.”

“Gabi called.”

“Gabi never calls.”

“She was worried.”

“So she called you?” I fidgeted with my hands, then leaned back on the chair. “She hates you.”

“Which she said at least ten times before finally getting to the reason behind her call.”

“She yell?”

“When does she not yell?” Lex made a disgusted noise. “She thinks you’re hooking up with Blake.”

“No hooking up has taken place.”

“Will it?”

I gulped. “No.”

“Holy shit.” Lex jumped out of his seat and felt my forehead. “Are you sick? Since when have you ever
not
hooked up?”

“Gabi’s sick.” I pushed away from him and started making my retreat into the kitchen. “Bring her soup. Be a good friend. I have work to do.”

I thought he’d left me alone until I felt him breathing down my neck while I mindlessly rummaged through the fridge. “You like her,” he said.

“I also like yogurt. You expect me to stick my penis in that too?”

Lex burst out laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day. And let me guess, you aren’t even on her radar.”

I slammed the fridge shut. “I shouldn’t be on her radar, considering I’m her coach! I’m supposed to help her with David, not help myself to her goods!”

“She has nice goods.”

“Shut the hell up!” I lunged for him, only to have his laughter stop me dead in my tracks.

“Oh hell, man, you’ve got it bad. And you don’t even know why.”

“Because she’s a nursing major. And
you
know that ninety percent of male fantasies either include a sexy nurse, naughty cop, or sexually repressed schoolteacher.”

“My man.” Lex tossed me a spoon for the yogurt. “Just remember, they sign contracts. Keep your twitchy parts away from hers before you get into trouble. It says in the contract if you have sex with her, she can sue us. We did that on purpose, to gain their trust, but also to keep ourselves in check. It’s never been a problem.”

“And it won’t be a problem.” The yogurt tasted like shit.

My head felt hot.

And my skin was clammy.

Gabi!

In my mind I knew it was impossible for me to get sick from just seeing her today, which meant something was going around. Still, my patience was shot to hell, and I needed to blame someone.

“Why?” I threw the spoon against the sink and leaned against it. “One day, I’m going to kill Gabi and ask you to bury the body. Just don’t ask questions when that day happens, alright?”

“Why one day? Why not now?” Lex looked confused.

My head started to pound. “Damn it! Are you sick?”

“Uh, no. But I take multivitamins. Your idea of a vitamin is eating a Flintstone once a week when you start to get itchy from having sex in the grass.”

“Gabi must have gotten me sick,” I grumbled. “I’m going to bed to sleep it off and hopefully not die. If I wake up a zombie, take at least a few cool pictures before you decapitate me. Cool?”

“You have my word.” Lex nodded seriously as I stomped my way down the hall and slammed my door.

The last time I’d been sick was right before the draft.

Right before my life changed forever.

Being sick was a bad thing, because it felt like it was the universe’s way of telling me things were about to go to shit.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

I was having the dream again.

My brain was having a hard time keeping it repressed, what with my body shaking from the chills. Damn fever.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, only to be haunted by the little boy’s face.

“Can I have your autograph?” he pleaded, jumping up and down.

I pulled out my black marker and crouched down to his level. “Dude, you can have my autograph
and
tickets for tomorrow’s game.”

“No way!” he shouted. “Dad, Dad, guess what?”

His dad mouthed a “Thank you” to me as a lone tear escaped his eye. I couldn’t look away from the raw pain just that one tear elicited.

“What’s your name?”

The little boy’s blue eyes widened. “Tyson! Tyson Montgomery!”

It was cute how he shouted his name, like he couldn’t believe he was actually telling it to me.

I quickly signed his Seahawks hat and then pulled out two tickets for the game. VIP. It was part of my bonus. I wanted tickets I could give out to people, but mainly I wanted tickets I could give to those who really needed to forget for a bit. Because that’s what football did for me.

It helped me forget my insane parents.

My crappy and lonely childhood.

It helped me forget that I was still lonely.

“Here you go.” I handed them over.

“Thank you.” His dad pumped my hand as I stood to my full height. “You don’t know what this means. His mom . . . she just passed, and . . .” His voice broke.

“It’s my pleasure.” I released his hand just as someone screamed in the distance.

“Watch out!” a man yelled just as a car came flying down the street, knocking over a hot dog stand and an NFL shop set outside the stadium.

I barely had time to react as the car made its way toward the little boy, who had moved down the line and was waiting for another autograph.

“Move!” I yelled.

My teammates ushered fans out of the way while the little boy stood dazed. The car made its way directly toward him.

“Move!” I screamed and then ran toward him, pushing him out of the way just as the car slammed into the left side of my body, lifting me into the air.

“Hey,” a female voice whispered as something cold dabbed my head. “It’s okay. You’re just feverish.”

I jolted awake, chest heaving, leg aching.

Blake pulled back a cold compress, her eyebrows knit with concern. “Are you okay?”

“You’re here.” Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Lex was going to kill me.

She was at my house.

We never allowed clients to come to our house. Ever.

I was sick, but not too sick to remember the rules I’d established. The same ones I’d just preached to Lex that I wasn’t breaking. And she wasn’t just in my house; she was in my bedroom. On my bed.

“I texted you. I even called.” Blake dipped the rag into ice water and wrung it out. “And you never responded. You’ve been out for almost twelve hours. I finally threatened Gabi, who then threatened Lex, who finally let me in the house after I threatened to burn it down.”

A laugh escaped between my lips before I could stop it. “That worried about me?”

“You?” She blinked. “Oh, I’m doing this for entirely selfish reasons. If I lose my love coach, I lose my love. Simple as that.” She winked.

Her wavy brown hair was pulled back into a loose braid. Soft pieces fell across her face, making me want to reach out and give them a little tug, or wrap them around my fingertips.

“Sorry.” I touched my face. I was slick with sweat. My hands moved down my shirt.

It was missing.

“And sorry about the clothes.” She didn’t blush. She was all business as she started piling pillows around me, fussing over my positioning, and grabbing another blanket. “You were a mess when I got here. Lex said you were making the final transition into a werewolf and not to freak if you lashed out and bit me. I hope he was kidding, because you look rough.”

I groaned. “I feel rough. And disgusting.”

Smiling, she pressed the rag to my face again. It felt so good. I let out a little moan and grabbed her wrist before I could stop myself.

She froze.

And I immediately regretted my actions. “Sorry.” I cleared my hoarse voice. “It just feels really good.”

“I’m glad.”

“You know what would make me even happier right now?”

“Soup?” she guessed.

“You in a hot nurse outfit. What are you? A curvy size four? Six? I think I have a few costumes in my closet if you want to—”

She flicked the rag at my face as water dripped down my neck. Chuckling, I tossed it off and was surprised to see her laughing with me.

Blake rolled her eyes. “You’re kind of a pig.”

“Right, but I’m more like one of those cute little pigs, you know, the teacup ones. Still a pig, but you can’t help but want to keep it forever because it’s so damn adorable.”

“Not where I was going with it.” She pulled off my blanket, exposing me to the freezing-cold room.

“Ahhhh,” I groaned. “Why are you torturing me?”

“Take off your pants.”

“What?” My body jerked with awareness so fast I nearly fell off the bed.

Blake sighed. “You’re disgusting.”

“Wow, thanks. I love you too.”

“Take off your pants. Now.”

“I’m disgusting, take off my pants. Can’t say I’ve ever had that type of reaction from a woman before. In bed nonetheless.”

Blake didn’t answer. She just marched toward the adjoining bathroom and turned on the tub.

My head started to pound all over again. With a muffled groan, I pressed my fingers to my temples.

“We have to get your fever down.” She was back in the room again. At least I think she was. Everything was going double. This was why I hated germs, and Gabi—in reverse order.

I waved Blake off. “Let me die.” The pounding worsened as my head rushed with heat.

“Never leave a man behind,” she joked. Then, with a tug, my jeans were off my body. Good. Not only was I helpless in front of the girl I wanted to get into bed, but she’d just stripped me naked and didn’t even gasp.

I was freeballing.

And still, no appreciative “Oh my.”

Damn it. I’d already lost before I even got put in the game.

“Up you go.” She helped me to my feet. Thankfully, she was an athlete, so she was strong. I knew I wasn’t helping her much, considering I kept stumbling as I tried to weave my way toward the tub.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. Peering down at her, I saw three of her face. But she was still pretty, and in my feverish state I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, or just lean against her neck like a pathetic waste of humanity.

“Simple.” She smiled up at me. “Despite your bossiness and crude humor, I like you.”

Like “
like
me” like? Or just “hey, you’re a good
friend
” like? I nearly groaned aloud at my inner narration.

Good job, Ian. Maybe during recess you can have Lex pass her a note and have her circle which one.

“I like you too.” I smiled down at her.

“Then get in the bathtub.”

I stared her down in what I hoped was utter defiance and strength.

“Get in—before I make Lex come in here and carry you. And I have a really good reason to believe his bedside manner is like a grenade going off in your face.”

“How do you figure?”

“Easy. He went and checked in on Gabi once he found out how sick you were. He was with her all night, and there was a lot of shouting.”

“Lex?” I made my way to the side of the tub. “My best friend Lex? You should have called the police. He’s going to kill her.”

“She texted that she’s fine.”

“She’s feverish! Of course she’s fine! I’ve seen two unicorns and a flying elephant since we’ve made the trek from my bed to the bathroom.”

“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.