One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,4
move, crossing the few feet to our nearby table.
“Hey there,” she says, then hooks her thumb in the direction of the restroom. “You look like nice guys, so I’m hoping you can just watch my laptop for, like, a sliver of a sec while I run to the big girls’ room. I drank too much chai tea.”
“The hazards of coffee shops,” I deadpan, right as Reid cuts in, saying, “Absolutely.”
She blinks, not sure who’s answering her or who to talk to.
“So you’ll do it?” she asks, her expression bordering on desperate.
“Happy to,” Reid says.
“Nope,” I say in unison.
“You’re British,” she says to him in a flirty tone, her lips quirking up as my friend answers her.
“I am? First I’m learning of this.” He flashes her a smile, turning on the charm.
“I love British accents,” she says, grinning right back at him.
“What do you know? I come fully equipped with one.”
“What else do you come fully equipped with?” she purrs.
If Reid were truly flirting, I’d feel like an asshole for doing this. But I know this guy—he’s not on the market.
“Question though,” I say to the woman, who’s demonstrated all the facets of coffee shop douchery while we’ve worked here on our project the last week. “How do you know we won’t steal your laptop during that ‘sliver of a sec’? What makes you think we’re nice guys? Is it his accent? Or my smile?” I give her my best I’m a dick grin.
“Now, now, Lucas. That’s not true. Only one of us is a nice guy,” Reid says to the woman, as he pats his chest and mouths, I am.
“In that case . . .” She stammers, then lunges several feet to her table, grabs her laptop, and clutches it to her chest. “I’ll just take it with me.”
“Good plan,” I say, nodding my approval.
“Asshole,” she mutters as she rushes to the restroom.
I turn back to the screen, but Reid is staring at me, jaw agape.
“Seriously? She was flirting with me. That was my chance. My golden chance. Fully equipped. I am indeed fully equipped, and I’m happy to show her how the equipment fully works. Not to mention she’s the first pretty woman to ask us to babysit a computer in the last week.”
“But how does she know I’m not a hacker? A thief? Head of a black-market ring of stolen laptops and the credit cards auto-filled on them? I’m doing the world a service by saying no to those requests, even if it makes me look like a dick.” I tap my temple. “I’m making her think next time she asks someone she doesn’t know to watch an expensive machine.” I smile proudly. “I’m rather helpful, you see.”
He huffs. “Oh, right. You’re a brand-new vigilante do-gooder. Captain No. Saving the world by refusing to let people be stupid.”
“Captain No. I like the sound of that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Because that’s precisely what the world needs. We’ve been sorely lacking in Stupidity Police.”
I preen. “Thank you. I should note that my efforts served a double purpose. Not only did I save a stranger from her own poor judgment, I saved you from a poor dating choice.”
Offended, Reid straightens his spine. “I can make my own poor dating choices, thank you very much.”
“Not if I can help it. One, you don’t need to babysit a hot babe’s laptop to get laid. Two, you’re not interested, man.”
“Who says I’m not interested?”
I roll my eyes. “You act like you’re interested in dating, but all you do is window-shop. You’re still hung up on that girl you met three years ago in Paris.”
He groans, shaking his head. “I am not hung up.”
“Tell that to the jury. Also, that woman was not going to give you her digits for watching her MacBook. I heard the things she was saying to her friend, or whoever it was, while you were lost in your Taylor Swift mix. You’d have taken her out for three pricey dinners and she’d still have gotten back together with her douchey ex.”
“There is nothing wrong with Taylor Swift.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Funny how that’s what you’ve glommed on to. Which proves my point again about you being hung up. And did I say there was anything wrong with Taylor?”
“You sounded like you were going to.”
I give him a sympathetic smile. “Aww, you’re sensitive.”
“You’re not,” he fires back as he drags a hand through his dark hair.
“Exactly. Someone has to look out for you. And someone has to look out