The Matchmaker's Replacement - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,87
a day. I won’t bore you with more numbers, but there’s graphs and a very technologically advanced computer system that ranks us against one another. Looks like Mark just weaseled his way to the top, hmm?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “He just . . . caught me at a low point without my armor on, you know? Like if you’re prepared for the jab, you block it, but he caught my chin and then got in a few good left hooks.”
“Did you—?” I pulled back and stared at her. “Did you just use a boxing reference to explain life?”
Gabi frowned. “Weird, but yeah, I think I did.”
“Kinda hot.” I brushed the hair out of her face. “And just what type of jabs and hooks are we talking about? The typical insult to a girl’s self-esteem, or low blows?”
“Low blows,” she huffed. “Ones I wasn’t ready for, ones about me not putting out in high school and how I probably spread my legs for everyone now, but you know, especially athletes. He was always jealous of my relationship with Ian, but he was just so mean about it.” She sagged against me, her hands curling around my neck as they started making lazy circles against my chest. “I threw water in his face and then basically told him we didn’t need his business.” She sighed louder. “He threatened to sue.”
I choked out a laugh. “I’d like to see him try. We had a very expensive lawyer draw up our paperwork. He’s an idiot if he thinks he can sue us.”
“That’s what I said, but what if he exposes your and Ian’s identities? Or worse, exposes me? What we do? The whole reason Wingmen Inc. works is because it’s a secret.”
“While you do have a point,” I said slowly, careful to choose my words so they wouldn’t scare her, “what’s the worst that could happen? We still have the app, and we’d just stop offering Wingmen services.”
“But!” Gabi pulled away. “You and Ian love being wingmen!”
“Ian’s busy making babies with Blake,” I pointed out while she made a face. “And if you haven’t noticed, I don’t necessarily appreciate kissing other girls anymore.”
“No?” Her lips quirked into a tiny smile. “Why’s that?”
I offered a casual shrug. “I’m gay.”
“Lex!”
Chuckling, I hugged her tighter. “There’s this really hot girl who dressed up like a sexy elf one day . . . She kind of had me at hello.”
“Did I say hello?”
“You really think I remember that shit? I saw boobs, which is not exactly the most romantic story if you look at it my way, Gabs. I wanted to have sex with you, not share secrets and paint each other’s toenails.”
“Aw, too bad. I would love to paint your toenails. It’s my sexual fantasy.”
“Oooo . . .” I licked the side of her face, causing her to burst out laughing and squirm in my lap. “Tell me more.”
“Lex!” She shoved my chest. “You suck.”
“Don’t you forget it.” I kissed the top of her head. “Also, your car’s a piece of shit. You’re driving mine from now on, and I’m taking my bike.”
“You ride a bike?”
“When I say bike, I mean my Ducati.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I didn’t know you had one.”
“It sits in the garage a lot because let’s just say I’ve seen way too many motorcycle accidents. Besides, what villain drives a motorcycle?”
She squinted. “The Riddler?”
“Nope.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Let me know when you have the answer.” I sighed. “Until then, grab your shit. I’ll take you home and draw you a bath.”
“Really?” She perked up.
“Sorry, I can’t lie to you with that face.” I opened the door and helped her out. “I have no intention of letting you in a bath until I’ve been inside you and erased every last Mark memory you’ve ever had.”
Her cheeks reddened.
I glanced up just as Mark made his way out of the restaurant.
“But first.” I moved away from Gabi and stomped toward Mark. I had at least four inches on the guy and could probably kick his ass drunk. “Hey, Mark.”
He glanced up, his eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
I smirked. “Well, you’re about to.”
“What the—”
I punched his face so hard that my knuckles hurt. He went down in one giant heap, while blood trickled down his nose.
With a sigh I leaned over him. “You disrespect my girl ever again and I’m going to make sure you have to pee through a bag for the rest of your life. Mm’kay, pumpkin?”