One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,70

right.

The buzzer.

I heave myself up, head to the intercom, and ask who’s there.

“Lola and Lucas.”

Not gonna lie. That delights me. Those two are fascinating. Inspiring too. “As they say on The Price is Right, come on up. Well, it’s ‘come on down,’ but you get the gist.”

I open the door to wait for them, and a minute later, the pair of riddlers strides toward me down the hall, curious looks on their faces.

“Hey,” Lucas says, then extends a hand. “I’m Lucas.”

“I feel like I know you already,” I say.

“And you do, in many ways,” he says.

The dark-haired woman offers her hand, and we shake. “Weirdly, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says.

“Weirdly, indeed.” I invite them in, and they follow my lead, heading inside.

Lucas tilts his head, then scratches his jaw. “So, you wrote a book about that wild-goose chase you sent us on?”

I hold my arms out wide. “Screw that one-month novel-writing camp. I wrote it in five days. Top that!”

Lola laughs. “Can’t beat that.” But then her expression turns more serious. “But I want to know something. Was that whole breakup letter to Luna and Rowan designed to get us together?” She points from herself to Lucas. “Since I’m presuming you heard about us during their many fights?”

A laugh bursts from my chest. Are they for real? They think I’m a matchmaker? “Are you kidding?”

“No. I’m serious,” Lola says, her lips ruler-straight, her eyes intense.

“Did you actually read the story?”

She shakes her head.

“One, it’s not a love story. Two, it’s not about the two of you. And three, why the hell would I try to get you two together?”

“As a novel idea?” Lucas offers.

I laugh again, louder, deeper this time. “Take a good look at the man in front of you.” I hold out my arms and turn in a slow circle. “Do I look like cupid? Do you see wings? A bow and arrow? A diaper?”

Lola has the good sense to look sheepish. “Obviously not.”

I tap my chest. “I’m not a secret matchmaker. I’m not any sort of matchmaker. Plus, happy endings are unnecessary. The guy doesn’t always get the girl, because he doesn’t need the girl.” I raise my chin. “My book is a personal journey. A comedy about a man figuring out what he wants in life. His happiness. Not happiness with another person. I don’t need to have lovers smooching at the end.”

They laugh, and Lola wraps an arm around Lucas. “Well, thanks anyway. That was an accidental by-product, then, of that time you kicked out the Love Birds.”

“Wait. You two got back together?” I ask with a groan.

Lucas drops a kiss to her cheek. “We did. So, thanks, even though you didn’t mean to do that.”

I drop my face in my hands. “That was never the goal,” I grumble.

“What was the goal?”

I raise my face. “It was for me. It was the first time I was inspired in ages. I wrote about a man finding his place in the world.”

“Through a breakup letter to his noisy tenants?”

“Yes. It was restorative. It was everything I needed. I had no idea when I wrote that letter. I wrote it for payback, but as soon as I started dropping off their things, it unlocked my story. I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote.”

“Good,” Lucas says with a grin. “Looks like it worked out for all of us.” He turns to leave but stops and swings back. “One more thing. How did the dance lessons work out?”

My traitorous heart hammers as I picture Angeline, the captivating, clever dance instructor who taught me the first steps of tango. Whom I invited to dinner. Whom I saw tonight.

Whom I’ll see tomorrow. “They’re working out great.”

Lola lifts a brow. “Maybe that’s your ending.”

I sneer. “Books don’t need happy endings.”

“No, but sometimes life is better with them,” she says, then waves goodbye. “Thanks again. Perhaps you do have a touch of cupid in you.”

They turn and leave, holding hands.

Something in me burns with annoyance.

I’m not the guy who writes romance.

I don’t believe in it.

But when I return to my couch and find a message from Angeline telling me she’s looking forward to tomorrow’s dance lesson, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t mind a happier ending for me.

33

Lola

A few months later

Angeline was right.

Lucas and I rock at tango.

We take lessons a few times a month.

And when we finish tonight’s lesson with a flourish and a dip, Angeline claps. “Bravo! You’re fantastic.”

Lucas offers a hand and pulls me up. “You are fantastic,”