One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,18

have a couple guitar cases from Harrison Bates?” I ask hopefully. Hell, I practically bat my lashes.

“I wish,” she says.

That response doesn’t compute. “You wish?”

She sighs in longing. “My God, that sounds like a fantastic way to spend a Friday night. To be enlisted in a scavenger hunt. That’s like an awesome Sunday Funday activity, only it’s Friday. It’s a sign that this is going to be a great weekend.”

Enlisted. That’s an interesting way of putting it. I imagine Harrison lining up his troops, prepping them for his grand payback adventure.

I try again, hoping to jog her memory, while my pseudo ex leans against the wall like he’s waiting, just waiting to say I told you so.

That’s the reminder I need of who he is. He’s not the man who doles out earnest praise. He’s the man who wants me to be wrong. The man who didn’t apologize.

I snap my gaze to the woman in pink. “And you’re positive, Eloise?” I ask, reading her name tag. “My sister has told me about your store. She’s obsessed with buttons.” I implore her because the guitars must be here. “And she bought the—”

“The red-and-gray plaid ones,” Eloise chirps. “She showed me her costume when she finished it. She was the most adorable—”

“Schoolgirl,” supplies Lucas in a sexy rumble. “She went as a schoolgirl. Like I said, they met at the comic book shop. He was working on his costume. The store is a few blocks away.”

My shoulders tighten, and I swear I’m clutching the edge of a windowsill of a tall brick building, clinging white-knuckled, rather than climbing in and admitting I’m wrong. “Fine. Let’s go to the comic shop.” I turn to Eloise. “Thank you though. You were so helpful.”

“Anytime! And if you ever need buttons, I’m your girl.” She waves as we head to the door. “And tell Baxter I said hi.”

I stop, swivel around. “Who’s Baxter?”

“He runs the comic book store. He’s a sweetie pie. Everyone loves him.”

“Thanks, Eloise,” Lucas says. “I’ll say hi to Baxter for you.”

After we leave, I brace myself for Lucas to slice, dice, and I-told-you-so me to ribbons. It’s coming, and it’s going to suck.

7

Lola

But as we hit the sidewalk, maintaining a rapid clip, he only smiles and waits.

“Fine,” I blurt out after two blocks like that, frustration bubbling over in me. “Fine, they met at the comic shop. You’re right. You’re so right. What do you want on your sandwich?”

“Everything.” Each syllable drips with sex and self-satisfaction.

This man has turned into such a cocky bastard.

Except, wait.

Wait a freaking minute.

Something doesn’t add up with his comic shop logic. “Hold on,” I say, slamming my arm against his chest—his solid-as-a-plank chest. Were his muscles this firm in college? Actually, they were. A college athlete, the man knew how to treat his body like a temple.

“Ouch,” he teases, adopting an over-the-top wince.

“Stop it. It didn’t hurt. You’re built of concrete.”

He wiggles a brow. “Thanks. Lacrosse helps.”

I grit my teeth. Like I want a reminder of that sport. “Of course you still play.”

“It wasn’t the sport’s fault, Lola.”

“I’m well aware of that,” I say coolly, then I draw a deep, calming breath. It doesn’t matter what happened that weekend in college. Doesn’t matter how he ditched me after kissing me passionately—and more—and asking me out.

Doesn’t matter that I’d waited in my dorm for our first date, all dressed up, ready to go with him to a department dinner, or that I’d gone alone instead.

When he didn’t show up that night or the next, I was so hurt, then so mad, then so certain he’d thought our night together had been a mistake.

I was only twenty-one, fueled by dreams, ambitions, and desires. I wanted it all. I wanted him.

And then I didn’t have him.

And it hurt like hell.

When he finally appeared at my door and rattled off the events of that weekend, detail by painstaking detail—the guys came by, blindfolded us, took us camping; it was fun, but still—I’d wound myself up too far to simply let down my guard and say, Hey, it happens. Come on in and kiss me like crazy.

Besides, I needed him to apologize first, and when he didn’t lead with that, my walls went up again, brick by brick.

It was for the best, I told myself.

We were better off as friends.

I wasn’t interested in jocks anyway.

I told myself the universe had saved me from giving my heart to someone who didn’t deserve it.

If he couldn’t lead with I’m sorry, couldn’t weave that into