The Matchmaker's Replacement - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,49
to find a way for her to work less, earn more, and stop failing her classes.” And side note, I needed to discover why there was never any money in her bank account and why she was always starving as if I never fed her.
“Agreed.” Ian frowned. “Actually, I had an idea. I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it, but since you guys seem to be, you know, both alive after working together for a few weeks—”
“Hold that thought.” I checked my watch again. “Actually, I have to go . . . fix a tire.”
Ian just stared at me like I’d told him I was going to flash my dick at the eighty-year-old sitting at the next table. “You?”
“What?” I stood. “I can change tires.”
“Can you?”
“Stop doubting me.”
“Okay computer science major, go crazy.”
“I resent that.”
“I resent the fact that you just made up some bullshit excuse about changing a tire in order to get out of answering questions about—”
His eyes did that thing where they got wide and clear. Shit, he was going to see right through me and Gabs if we were together.
“Look—” I tried for a half-truth. “Gabs knew you were busy, so she grudgingly called me and asked if I could change her tire after work. I told her yes, but only after she gave me a blow job.”
Ian didn’t seem fazed.
“She yelled at me.”
He continued his staring.
“I yelled back.” I released a long-suffering sigh. “She eventually wore me down.”
Ian shrugged. “As she usually does.”
“And I let her win round one, because I’m trying not to go to prison before I graduate from college, and if I keep fighting with her, well . . .”
“It’s your future,” Ian agreed.
“Right.” I breathed out a sigh of relief. “So, can we take this up some other time?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “But I think I already have my answer about my idea, if you’re cool with me just making a decision for both of us.”
He did that often, but he owned half of the company and I trusted his judgment, so why did I care? “Sure, whatever.”
“Don’t kill her.” Ian called after me.
“Kill her?” My eyebrows rose. “What about me?”
“You always end up on top.”
My jeans tightened to a painful degree. “Yeah, I wish.”
Ian smiled.
The guy had no idea what he was saying.
But my body did.
What I wouldn’t give to be on top—which really was saying something, since for once in my life, I’d be getting a workout in the bedroom. Not necessarily a bad thing, more like a sweaty adventure I couldn’t wait to embark on.
Chapter Twenty
Gabi
Lex was late—only by a minute, but sitting out in the parking lot gave me the creeps. The club was still going wild with dancers throwing themselves around poles and patrons getting drunk, but outside it was dark, and the parking lot wasn’t exactly well lit. Though the club stuck out like a sore thumb, all bright lights like an adult version of Candy Land or something.
Headlights blinked in my direction, and at first I thought it was Lex. The car was red like his, but as it neared I noticed that it was an older Mercedes. Lex’s was basically brand-new and in impeccable condition.
The car parked a few feet away from me. I took a few steps back toward the club, making sure to appear like I wasn’t afraid to be standing outside alone.
A tall man with a black beanie and graying goatee stepped out of the car. His black shoes were shiny, and his jeans looked tight and uncomfortable. A black T-shirt hung loosely on his body, and he smelled like he’d just taken a bath in aftershave. I almost had to hold my breath.
He took a step toward me. “How much?”
“Um.” I pointed back at the club. “There isn’t a cover.”
He smirked, running his hand around his mouth. “Not for the club. For you.”
Oh no. I swallowed the slowly rising panic as adrenaline surged through my system. “I’m a waitress. Not a hooker.”
“Same thing.” He nodded.
“No.” I stepped back; only two feet and I’d be at the door. Never in my life did I ever think that I’d feel safer in a gentlemen’s club than in a parking lot, but there it was. “Actually, it’s not.”
He moved too fast for me to react.
One minute I was standing.
The next, he was pushing me against the brick wall. “I asked how much, you bitch, and I always get what I want.”