One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,42
again. He’s like . . .”
I pause to think of the right word to describe Lucas, but he’s hard to categorize. “He’s like a brainstorm partner. Like that person you can bounce ideas off of. Someone who truly understands what I’m trying to accomplish with a design project. Someone I connect with on many levels. And talking to him again kind of lit up all those parts of me that desperately missed having that. He’s a friend, but it’s deeper than that, if that makes any sense.”
Amy nods thoughtfully as she takes a drink of her latte. “I get that. Linc and I love talking about books. And having a fellow editor as my fiancé is energizing and thrilling. It’s like you’re a set of Christmas lights, plugged in and flashing, blinking at all hours.”
I smile and point at her. “Yes! That. Exactly.”
Peyton chimes in. “That sort of sounds like a good thing though. Especially what Linc and Amy have. That you’re both in the same field of work as your guys. So, what’s the problem, Lo?”
“It’s good for Linc and Amy,” I say, keeping my head on straight. “But Lucas and me? We combusted the last time we went down that path. And now we’re friends again. I don’t want to lose that. Our friendship feels both familiar but also tender and new. Like, one false step and it blows up a second time.”
“So the friendship is a powder keg too,” Peyton deadpans.
“Yes. I suppose it is.”
“But you also still have that wild chemistry,” she adds.
Tingles race down my spine at the memories of last night. “We do.”
“Which makes me wonder . . .” Peyton screws up the corner of her lips, thinking.
“Wonder what?”
She waves a hand, like she’s shaking it off. “This might be crazy, but hear me out. Your sister knows you and Lucas were close. She knows you were briefly involved. She knows you have been more like frenemies since college. Do you think she constructed this whole thing to try to—”
“Get you back together!” Amy’s eyes light up as she jumps in at the same moment.
“Jinx!” Amy says to Peyton.
“Jinx to you,” Peyton says, as my best friends high-five, then stare at me, waiting.
But I know the answer. “That’s not Luna’s style. She’s not manipulative.”
Amy shakes her head. “But that’s not a manipulative thing per se. Sometimes two people need a little nudge here and there to see what’s right in front of them.”
“I didn’t mean manipulative in a bad way. It’s just not Luna’s style to intervene like that. It’s too much thinking,” I say, tapping my skull. “Too much social engineering. Luna is all about this,” I say, patting my breastbone. “She’s a heart person. So it’s not her doing. Plus, we’ve been talking to the landlord.”
“The Happy-Go-Lucky Sadist?” Amy asks.
“Yes. Lucas and I emailed with him this morning. So that’s another reason I say that Luna didn’t engineer this.” I arch a brow as a wild thought descends on me. I point at Amy. Then Peyton. “Unless you two did? J’accuse!”
Amy holds up her hands in surrender. Peyton follows suit. “For the record, I absolutely wish I had thought of that, but I did not,” Amy says.
Peyton nods intently. “Yes. I’m kicking myself that we didn’t adopt the landlord persona sooner. It’s freaking genius. But I swear on my love of La Perla, it’s not me.”
“And I swear on my love of pockets, I am not the puppeteer,” Amy says a little wistfully. “Damn it. Why didn’t I come up with a quest to bring Lola and Lucas back together?”
“Because we’re not getting back together. And it’s a ridiculous quest even for you two, and definitely for my sister. So, my point is this. It’s not you two troublemakers. It’s not Luna. It’s just exactly what it is—my sister and her boyfriend being indulgent, loud, dramatic lovebirds.”
“And the by-product is a powder keg,” Amy adds.
“But a powder keg that has been dealt with,” I say, chin raised, holding my ground on this point. Because even though I joked about Lucas’s tongue while texting with him earlier, I meant what I said last night. This changes nothing. “Because if we do have more than a one night stand-in, then we’re going to be the powder keg that explodes to smithereens,” I add.
Amy’s gaze drifts toward the door. “Speaking of hot powder kegs, isn’t that him walking through the door?”