The Matchmaker's Playbook - Page 24/84

“Because of my questionnaire?”

I nodded. “And a few other . . . tests.”

“I thought you were hungry. Spit it out already.”

My stomach growled on command. “You know what? We’ll talk about it tonight after dinner.” My attitude perked up. “Dessert?”

“Sure.” She grinned. “Okay.”

Yeah. We had two very different meanings for that word. And she was about to find out very soon. She may have just gone through one stage of my training, but she was about to start the boot-camp phase, and I was very thorough when it came to making sure my clients knew just how to handle the guy they were trying to land.

CHAPTER TEN

Weekly dinners with Gabi were starting to get more and more intense. Not because she was busy, but because Lex and I were a package deal, and ever since freshman year when he mistook her for someone other than my best friend from childhood, things went from bad to worse.

Now? Every time they were in the same room together, I half expected one of them to end up in the hospital.

The minute we got to the house, Blake ran upstairs with her bags. I focused really hard on her flip-flops out of necessity. The rest of her looked tight, toned, tan. I angled my head as she made her way to the top of the stairs and turned. Her breasts were really starting to be the highlight of my day.

Something smacked me on the back of the head.

“Hey!” I turned around and faced Gabi. She had her angry face on. No smile, eyes narrowed. “What was that for?”

“If you hurt her, I’m going to break off your favorite appendage.”

“Silly Gabi.” I grinned. “Is that an invitation to touch?”

“Guarantee if I ever do touch you, it will only end badly.”

“Tease.” I winked.

“Stop that.” She flicked me on the nose. “Your sexual prowess is dead to me. Dead!”

Rolling my eyes, I wrapped an arm around her and steered us both into the kitchen, where the smell of French bread and spaghetti filled the air. “Have I told you how much I miss our weekly dinners? Think we should do it daily? You know, so I don’t starve?”

Gabi shrugged out of my embrace. “Learn how to cook.”

I jutted out my lower lip. “It’s not for lack of knowledge.” I broke off a piece of warm bread, then poured myself a large glass of wine. “It’s because yours always tastes better.”

Gabi groaned loudly. “Damn, do the girls really fall for that? Still?”

“Eh.” I shrugged and made a so-so motion with my hand. “Nine out of ten.”

“You disgust me.”

“You say that every day.”

“Because it’s true every day.”

“When’s dinner ready?” Serena bounced into the room, literally, her head bobbing from left to right. Maybe that’s how girls like her built up more brain cells. They shook the air, and the pressure between their ears exploded, making tiny little brain-cell babies.

Gabi poked her head into the fridge. “When Lex gets here.”

“So it’s ready now?” she asked.

Never mind. No brain-cell babies. I fought the urge to point to the steaming spaghetti and bread sitting on the breakfast bar. Didn’t it look ready, kiddo?

“Technically,” I answered for Gabi. “But we aren’t eating”—I stressed the word “eating” even though I’d just taken some bread—“until my sidekick gets here.”

“Sidekick, huh?” Serena crossed her arms, forcing her boobs to kiss one another and nearly hit her in the chin.

“Oh, I thought you knew.” I gave her a sad face. “I’m the hero in this scenario . . . Even own my own cape. He’s basically the Robin to my Batman.”

“Batman’s hot.”

“So is Robin,” Gabi said defensively.

Whoa. Did she just defend Lex? I felt her forehead. She pushed my hand away and handed me some Parmesan cheese.

The door flew open, and Lex stepped through, holding up two bottles of Cab. “Sorry, traffic was shit.”

“Language,” Gabi called.

Lex and I shared a look before Lex stomped over to the swear jar and tossed in a dollar bill.

Gabi and her freaking double standards. She swore frequently. But she didn’t allow swearing in the kitchen. She was half Italian, and kitchens in her family represented peace and love and some other shit I always forget. So swearing during dinnertime? Off-limits.

Which, knowing Lex, was like asking him to turn into a chick and give me an openmouthed kiss. He said when he was in Gabi’s kitchen, he cursed on the inside and drank to keep himself from slitting his wrists.

On that note, Lex muttered something under his breath, stole the wineglass from my hands, and chugged it.

“We doing this?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Serena hadn’t taken her lustful eyes off Lex yet. Highly doubted he’d actually called her, but he was the king about making things seem easy and less awkward when it came to shitting where he slept and vice versa. I wondered if Gabi knew.

She wasn’t hitting him.

Therefore, she was probably in the dark.

“Where’s the other roomie?” Lex asked, pouring himself more wine and then tipping it back.

“Here!” Blake walked into the room.

Lex spit out his wine. All over the floor. Then he started coughing and choking.

Gabi patted his back furiously, probably knocking a few ribs out of place. “Are you okay?”