The Matchmaker's Replacement

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Why was it so hard to focus on all the horrible things he’d done? It was like every time he was nice he erased all the bad with that one good deed. What an asshole thing to do!

  Was it on purpose?

  “Gabs?” Lex leaned forward. “You’re pale, and you’re staring at my eyes like you want to gouge them out with your fork.”

  I lifted the fork into the air. “The idea has merit.”

  “I’m too fast for your short legs. You’d end up forking my ass.”

  “True.” I finished setting the table. “But it would still hurt, therefore, my life would be complete.”

  “Inflicting pain shouldn’t be a life goal, Gabs.”

  “Neither should being an asshole, yet here we are.” I smiled sweetly.

  Lex breathed out a curse and poured his second glass of wine. I was still on my first. The last thing I needed was to be more loose-lipped in his presence; we really would get in a fight then—and probably burn the house down, leaving me homeless.

  He tapped his fingertips against his glass, his full lips pressing together in a small smile. Everything about him sitting at the table with me felt right when it should have felt wrong.

  I needed a fight.

  Something to remind me that he was a horrible human being.

  That the minute I let him in, he’d bite.

  And not a good bite but the type that spread a life-altering infection, making it so you were never the same. I’d already nearly given my virginity to one asshole, there was no need to repeat history and actually follow through this time. I was afraid it might actually break me—that he would break me.

  I shot to my feet, stalked to the stove, and turned down the sauce. The pasta was already on the table, ready for consumption.

  “Need help?” Lex asked, his body heat singeing me from behind! A hand snaked around my body as his finger dipped into the hot sauce and then left.

  I imagined his lips around his finger and nearly whimpered aloud.

  “At least you can cook, Gabs.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” I didn’t turn around. I wasn’t so sure I could trust myself not to launch my body in his general direction and beg him to kiss me.

  My legs wobbled.

  Gah! I hated him.

  “Can’t I give you a compliment?”

  “No,” I growled out, mindlessly stirring the sauce with the wooden spoon. “Because they’re always backhanded. Like ‘You don’t look as fat in that dress as you did last time you wore it,’ or ‘Nice lipstick, I hope it was free’—”

  Lex’s hand cupped my face, and his cologne lingered everywhere like a cloud of sex that was impossible to step out of. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to move.

  “How about this?” His body brushed against mine, our legs kissing, nearly intertwined as we stood in front of the stove. “I really enjoy your cooking. The end.” He removed his hand.

  “The end?” I whispered. “Is that going to be your new thing? I’ll know it’s real if you say ‘the end’?”

  “You’ll know it’s real because it’s truth,” he said, still not moving.

  A door slammed, and Ian’s voice rang out. “Forgot my coat and it’s raining . . .”

  I didn’t listen to the rest of the sentence; I was too busy mourning the loss of Lex’s body as he jerked away from me, leaving me cold, shivering, and completely turned-on.

  Yes, folks, he turned me on by breathing.

  Crap.

  Someone needed to smack me in the face, knock some sense into me. I pleaded with fate to simply turn him back into his full-time assholeness so I could live a marginally normal life without losing my mind in his presence.

  I turned around just as Ian ran into the kitchen, grabbed his coat, and then jogged back out.

  The tension was thick.

  Like the sauce I’d just let boil over. “Crap!” I turned back to the stove and quickly removed the pan.

  “Correction.” Lex sauntered over and took the pan from my hands. “You were a good cook.”

  “The end?” I scrunched up my nose as I looked down at the semi-burnt sauce.

  “Yeah.” He gave a firm nod and set the pan in the kitchen sink. “The end.”

  My stomach growled on command. He might dump the burnt sauce, but if he didn’t, that sauce and I had a date later. I didn’t care if it had charred pieces of coal in it, I was going to devour every last drop of it.

  “I’ll order pizza.” Lex pulled out his cell. “It’s not family dinner unless it’s Italian.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already talking into his phone. “Yeah, can we get two extra-large Hawaiian pizzas, extra pineapple on both of them and Asiago cheese on top?”

  Curse him for knowing every weakness I have, starting with pineapple and ending with cheese.

  “Cash,” he said into the phone, then fired off my address.

  “Feeding an army?” I joked.

  “Nah, just you, Sunshine.” He smirked. “And I figure the fatter I keep you, the slower you are when I chase you.”

  “Smart.” I nodded. “Prey on the weak, that’s what I always say.”

  “Gabs,” Lex said with a chuckle. “I thought you knew . . . I only spar with the strong.”

  With that, he walked into the living room and grabbed the remote, flipped on the TV, and set his giant feet onto the table.

  “Sunshine!” Lex snapped his fingers behind him but didn’t even turn around. “Wine me?” He held his hand out.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed his wineglass, contemplating only briefly, for maybe three seconds, dumping it on his stupid big head.

  His stupid, close-shaved, sexy head.

  Noooooo!

  “Heard that foot stomp!” Lex called.

  “Wine.” I shoved it into his hand without spilling it and then sat with him on the couch and did a mental recount of all the horrendous things he’d ever done to me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lex

  Typically I ate at least six pieces of pizza; some days I ate nine. But that night? I had two.

  I was turning into a chick and growing ovaries. Hell, in a few weeks I’d probably start obsessing over Whine About It videos on Buzzfeed and crying over Nicholas Sparks novels.

  Because as a dude, you aren’t supposed to forgo any sort of food, especially that of the pizza variety.

  Yet there I was.

  Still hungry.

  Lying about said hunger.

  And praying the little liar would save the leftovers and make them her breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  “Thanks.” Gabs patted her flat stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that fast before.” Two pieces. She’d had two. What she needed was seven, eight—damn it, maybe the whole pizza.

  I swallowed my question, knowing she wouldn’t answer it anyway. Instead, I stood and pretended I was going in the general direction of her bathroom. When she was out of sight, I took a hard right by the hall closet.

  I opened it.

  Nothing.

  Not even a flipping coat.

  Did I have to start buying her winter apparel as well?

  “Damn,” I muttered, closing it softly before making my way upstairs, careful to avoid the third and sixth creaky stairs.

  If I didn’t hurry up she was going to think I was taking a shit in her bathroom, and that was the last thing I wanted her to assume—which was a first, considering I lived to piss her off.

  I quickly made my way into Serena’s room. It held only boxes, no baskets, and her closet was empty.

  The upstairs hallway was the same.

  And Blake’s old room had nothin
g but dust in it.

  When I finally made it to Gabi’s room, I’d been gone around six minutes; things weren’t looking so hot.

  I pushed open her door and greedily searched around, my eyes zeroing in on seven baskets in the corner.

  And the notes from the baskets in a small pile next to them.

  She’d kept the notes?

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gab yelled from behind me.

  “Uh.” I turned, offering an apologetic smirk. “Looking through your underwear drawer?”

  “That’s sick, even for you, Lex.” She stomped over to me and tugged my arm toward the door. “Get out!”

  “What does that mean, even for me?”

  “You’re a complete slut!” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m surprised you’re not dead from an STD.”

  “Unfair.” I held my ground, planting my feet against the wood floor. “I haven’t even slept with anyone in over two weeks!”

  She gasped. “Oh I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a personal record? Wrote that one down, did ya? Good job, Lex, you kept it in your pants for fourteen days. Your sacrifice has been noted. Hey, maybe the Catholic church will name a saint after you!”

  My eyes narrowed as she uncomfortably bit her lip and looked at the baskets in the corner, then back at me.

  “I already saw them, stop fidgeting.”

  She stared through me. “What do you know?”

  “What don’t I know?”

  “Lex.”

  “Gabs.”

  Another foot stomp. “You drive me crazy!”

  “And being with you is a picnic?” I sputtered. “You argue over everything! Why can’t you just leave things alone?”

  “Because!” she yelled, her pitch rising as she clenched her fists at her sides. “And why are you in my room?”

  “Where’s all the food?” I blurted. “I see the baskets, but your pantry’s empty, and I know for a fact there were two boxes of brownie mix when it was . . . dropped off.”

  “You!” She jabbed my chest with her finger. “It’s you? You’re Spider-Man?”

  “We’ve been over this before, Gabs. I’m the villain, try to keep up.” I coughed into my hand and looked away, needing time to come up with a lie. “I, uh, was running this morning, because I run, and I saw the basket. That’s all.”

  We were chest to chest, and she peered up at me from beneath her thick black lashes. “Now who’s lying?”

  “Calling my bluff?” A smile erupted before I could stop it. She was so tiny, and yet I experienced a bit of terror whenever she was angry, and whenever that anger was directed at me, which was daily.

  “Lex.” She backed up, and my body yearned to press against hers again. “Just . . . no fighting, no . . . whatever this is.” She stared down at the floor. “Are you the one dropping off food?”

  I licked my lips.

  One of her eyebrows arched.

  Damn it. “Yes.”

  Her face softened, and she managed to look both pissed off and slightly ashamed at the same time.

  “Oh no you don’t!” I held up my hands. “Do not give me that look! I’d rather you threaten to run me over with your car, Gabs. I am not that guy, so don’t.” I closed my eyes and turned around just as she wrapped her tiny little arms around my waist and squeezed.

  “You found your heart!” Her teasing tone was back as she sidestepped the giant issue in front of us—where the hell the food was even going—and attacked me.

  “Oh dear God, this is hell, isn’t it?” I pried myself from her arms and turned around, gripping her wrists. “Gabs, don’t read into this. This isn’t a peace offering or any other friendship crap you’ve got going on in that tiny, small little head of yours.” I dropped her wrists. “I just . . .” The last thing I wanted was to be her friend, for her to think it was okay for me to step into that territory while completely ignoring where I wanted to step, or lie, or just . . . screw. “Ian said something about you being short on funds, you took that extra job, and it just seemed like it might help. Besides, Ian’s been busy with Blake and he doesn’t notice shit anymore, which means all that shit piles onto my shit and stresses me out. Therefore, the baskets. Just filling in where he can’t, that’s all.”

  There, that sounded good.

  Gabs’s face fell. “Yeah, he’s been really busy lately.”

  “Yes, let’s talk about Ian. How do you feel about his newfound romance?”

  “I’m glad you asked. Honestly, I don’t think that—”

  “Stop it!” I yelled. “That was a test! You failed! I don’t have tits, this isn’t a slumber party, and if you yell ‘pillow fight,’ you sure as hell better be naked!” I took a step backward, my legs colliding with her bed. “This changes nothing.”

  “It changes nothing,” Gabs repeated.

  The room fell silent.

  If the baskets were our elephant . . .

  The sexual tension between us was a freaking dinosaur.

  Gabi’s annoying ring tone went off. Thank God.

  She reached for her phone and pulled it out. “Yeah? Okay, I can fill in. Sure . . . No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, were you under the impression we were friends?” Gabs tilted her head.

  “I merely wanted to get the point across that I wasn’t some chick you could gossip with, that’s all.”

  “Exactly.” She smirked. “Now out, I need to change.”

  “I’m really great at getting women out of their clothes. It would probably be faster if you let me help.”

  “Ahh, the asshole’s back.” She made a sad face. “I missed you.”

  I made a heart shape with my hands and held it out to her, then flipped her off and made my way out of her room. A pillow slammed into my head just as I was about to walk down the stairs.

  “Seriously?” I roared.

  “Stop being such a cheap ass and getting the small bags of Pirate’s Booty. Girl’s gotta eat, Lex. Just saying.”

  “Stop bitching,” I grumbled with a grin that didn’t disappear the entire night, not even when I woke up at two in the morning and made a quick shopping list.

  Damn it.

  She was in.

  And there was no way I was going to be able to get her out.

  Stupid heart.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, Lex.

  My prayer that night was that Ian would at least let me explain before he shot me in the face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gabi

  Your attention to detail needs some serious work.” Lex closed the binder that held all of my progress reports. “How about a trade?”

  “I’m listening.” I leaned forward, propping my elbows on his kitchen table.

  Lex slid a grape over to me. “You give me better progress reports on clients, more than a one-word answer, meaning you separate business and personal, and I give you food.”

  I stared down at the grape. “Hmm, you gonna make me a rewards chart too? With stickers?”

  His blank stare wasn’t comforting. “That depends. Are you six?”

  I popped the grape into my mouth. “I was kidding, Lex. And what kind of food are we talking about here?”

  “Baskets of food.” It had been two weeks of baskets. Two glorious weeks. I was so thankful I could cry, but for some reason it seemed to piss him off when I said thank you. So instead I pretended I deserved them, and he continued dropping them off.

  The notes were getting more and more hilarious: “From the villain who lives under your bed.”

  Friday’s was “From the badass antihero who kicked Su
perman’s ass, which was sadly never recorded in comic book history.”

  “I’ll let you pick what you want in your basket,” Lex grumbled while I danced in my chair. “But!” He held up his hand. “Be realistic. Don’t go asking for puppies and shit.”

  “I would never ask for shit.” I held up my hand as if swearing to him.

  “Gabs . . .”

  “Or puppies.” I slumped in my chair. “What about for Christmas, though?”

  “I’m sorry, are you under the impression that I’m giving you baskets until Christmas? And why won’t you tell me where all the food goes? You haven’t gained thirty pounds in the last two weeks. Therefore, you’re sharing it.”

  “A girl’s got her secrets.” I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the entire situation. Guilt stabbed me in the chest. I was thankful, sure, but he was spending his own money because I was giving all of mine away.

  It was for my family, but still.

  “So.” Lex pulled open his laptop. “Things with Steve seem to be going well. You’ve moved past making Stella jealous and straight on to her basically stalking him. Well done.”

  I grabbed another grape. “All in a day’s work.”

  “When’s your end goal with him? This weekend?”

  Anxiety spread across my body. “Well, I took a double shift at the club this weekend, so . . . can I do it maybe Sunday?”

  A muscle popped in Lex’s jaw. “Gabs, I’m not trying to be an ass, but a key part of Wingmen Inc. is that we promise to get the job done fast, so I need you to be focused on that, not taking double shifts at the club. I know funds are tight, but once you’re done with Steve we can talk about giving you more clients.”

  I hated that he was right. Shame made it hard to breathe. So did the fact that my dad still hadn’t found a job, and my mom’s job only brought in enough to cover the essentials. Last visit she’d cried when I’d dropped off my check.

  Apparently, they hadn’t been able to purchase groceries and, for the first time in her life, she had to go apply for state aid, only to find out that they still made too much.