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Love Machine

Page 17

by Kendall Ryan


  “All I’m saying is she could have had the decency to say it to my face,” Jack says, wiping the beer foam off his lips with the side of his hand. “What kind of person ends a year-long relationship over text message?”

  “The kind of person who doesn’t deserve you,” I say, gesturing to the bartender for another cold one. He pops the top off a bottle for Jack and slides over a bowl of bar mix for me.

  Jacksighs, sliding his empty beer bottle to the bartender. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He groans, staring down the neck of his beer like the answer to his relationship problems is stuck in there somewhere.

  “Damn straight I’m right. Name one time I’ve been wrong in the fifteen years we’ve been friends.”

  He rests his chin on his fist but doesn’t answer. Either because he can’t think of a time, or because the alcohol has made his brain fuzzy.

  My phone buzzes twice in my pocket—it’s Natalie, checking in to make sure I’m getting Jack good and drunk. Given the circumstances, I figured it was best that it was a “no girls allowed” kind of evening, but it’s been a long time since he and I have been out without Natalie. I can’t blame her for feeling a little left out.

  When I glance over, I notice Jack is messing around on his phone for what has to be the tenth time tonight. The odds are good that he’s already hitting up some other girl. I love Jackto death, but he’s always been a bit of a player. I’m actually a little surprised his most recent relationship lasted this long.

  “Natalie was checking in to make sure you were getting adequately hammered,” I say, holding up my phone to snap a picture of Jack and his collection of empty bottles. He sets his phone down and poses mid-chug, giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I send it off to Nat as evidence that I’m doing my job.

  “Man, I’m so damn lucky to have you two,” Jack says between long sips. “What would I do without you guys?”

  A little bit of alcohol always brings out his sentimental side, but I’m game for a stroll down memory lane, so decide I’ll play along.

  “I hardly remember life before the three of us were friends,” I admit, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “My brain must have just erased every memory prior to sophomore-year biology class.”

  “The three amigos!” Jack hollers, raising his beer in a toast. “The best lab group ever!”

  “Yeah, only because I carried all of our grades by doing all the work,” I tease, clinking my water glass against his beer.

  “Hey, it’s not Natalie’s fault that she was so bad at biology,” he argues with a sloppy finger wag.

  I guess four is the magic number of beers for Jack. I’ve got to remember to give him grief tomorrow about what a lightweight he’s become.

  “Yeah, I remember. That private school she transferred in from didn’t teach bio until junior year. What was your excuse?” I pick through the bar mix and flick a peanut at Wes’s head.

  “Laziness, mostly,” he says after batting the peanut away a little too late. It hits him square between the eyes and bounces across the floor. His reflexes are gone; he’s officially drunk. “You should be thanking me. That was the class that made you want to be a doctor. I was just letting you discover your passion.”

  I’m a physical therapist, but same difference. “And I was just saving you from flunking science class.”

  Downing the rest of his beer, he shoots me the bird and reaches for the bar mix to find some ammo of his own, eventually settling on a pretzel rod. I let him take his shot, lining up the pretzel like a javelin and tossing it at me. He misses by a long shot and the pretzel goes hurtling across the bar, nailing some unsuspecting sucker in the back of the head.

  “And that’s our cue to close the tab.” I wave over the bartender and slide my AmEx card across the bar, which gets me a confused look from Wes.

  “Why the hell are you paying?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “You just got water.”

  “Yeah, and you just got dumped,” I say, scribbling my signature across the receipt and stuffing a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar. “Now, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  As I walk and Jack stumbles across the parking lot, I shoot Natalie a quick text to let her know I’ve completed my mission of getting Jack drunk and that we’re headed home. The radio starts as soon as I turn the key in the ignition—some catchy pop love song, which Jack immediately switches. He stays diligent on the radio dial, changing the station every time a song mentions a girl or a kiss or anything else even sort of related to romance.

  I feel bad for the poor guy. Apparently, his ex has left his heart in freaking tatters.

  “All these goddamn love songs,” he mumbles, throwing in the towel and shutting the radio off altogether. “I’m sick of this shit. Women suck. All they do is steal your sweatshirts and then leave when they’re bored of you.”

  Before I can form a counterargument, he’s pointing at a fast-food restaurant ahead. “Dude, let’s get something to eat.”

  I don’t even bother trying to stifle my annoyance as I pull up to the drive-through, asking the girl on the intercom to give us a minute to decide.

  “What do you want, Wes? A burger? Fries?”

  “I want a woman who isn’t gonna completely screw me over,” he grumbles, giving the glove compartment a swift kick of frustration.

  “Burger and fries it is.”

  I place his order and pull forward to pay. Jack is either too buzzed or too sad to give me shit about paying this time, but his mood lightens a bit when I pass him the bag of hot, greasy goodness. Hopefully, those fries will soak up some of the alcohol in his system and make his hungover ass slightly more bearable tomorrow.

  He tears into his fries with a satisfied grunt. “Fries are so good. Why would I need a woman when I have fries?”

  “Probably because fries can’t get you off.” I pull into a parking spot nearby and settle back into my seat.

  “I think I’ve gotta go on a hiatus, dude,” he says around another mouthful. “Swear off women for a while. Get my head straight.”

  “That’s cute. But there’s no way in hell you’d last more than a week. Two, tops.”

  As long as Jack and I have been friends, he’s always had a girl in the picture. Whether it’s a girlfriend, a hookup buddy, or just somebody he met on a dating app, there have been very few nights in our apartment where Jack hasn’t been sharing his bed with someone. Swearing off girls will be harder for him than swearing off beer. And that’s saying something.

  “Bullshit. You really think I’m that weak?”

  He seems genuinely insulted, so I try a gentler approach. “Come on, man. You’ve been getting it on the regular for as long as I can remember. There’s no way you can go without.”

  “I’ve got a perfectly good hand. I’ll be fine,” he says into the greasy paper bag, digging out his burger. “No more women. I’m announcing it now. Hold me to it.”

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I reach for a couple of fries. “I’ll remind you of that when you meet some blonde at the gym next week and want to bring her home. You’ll fold in a heartbeat.”

  “Like hell I will. How much do you want to bet I can make it a whole month without hooking up with anyone?”

  Is he seriously going to make a wager on this? I’m not much of a gambler, but this sounds like a bet I’ll be guaranteed to win, so why the hell not?

  “All right, how about this.” I pivot to look him straight in the eye so he knows I mean business. “I’ll do it with you. No women, no sex, no hookups. I bet I can hold out way longer than you. Easy.”

  Jackrolls his eyes. “Oh, sure, easy for you. You’re practically a monk.”

  It’s been a long couple of months’ worth of his jokes insisting that I must be a born-again virgin with how little action I’ve been getting. Yeah, maybe I am in the midst of a dry spell, but it’s no big deal. And working long shifts in the pediatric wing of the physical therapy center certainly isn’t helping.

  I love my job. I really
do. Not to say that I wouldn’t mind getting laid in the near future. I’ve had a few potential prospects catch my eye, but if we’re betting on it, what’s another month of beating it in the shower?

  “Listen, are you for real about this bet or not?”

  Jack weighs it over with a few more fries, presumably trying to decide if his hand can really cut it. “You know what? Let’s do it,” he says, pumping his fist in the air and sending fries flying through my car.

  “And whoever breaks first . . .” I chew one fry slowly, partially to build the suspense, partially to buy myself time to think of what we’re betting on. A round of drinks? Cleaning the apartment for a month? No, this is some serious shit. The stakes are high. We need to make this deal worth keeping it in our pants for.

  “Whoever caves first has to do the other’s laundry for the rest of the year.”

  A sinister grin creeps across Wes’s face. “Done.” He wipes the fry grease from his hands onto a napkin before slapping his hand into mine.

  “It’s a deal then,” I say with a firm handshake and a confident smirk. “So you might want to say good-bye to that hookup from last year who I’ve been watching you text all night. Because that’s sure as hell not happening anytime soon.”

  My own phone chirps from the cupholder and I grab it. “It’s Nat again,” I say to Jack, opening the text.

  Now we’re all single. Lonely Hearts Club unite.

  I stare down at her message and frown. As far as I know, Natalie is single by choice. This is the first time I’ve heard her say she’s lonely, and something inside me doesn’t like it.

  Surely you’re not lacking for offers, Miss Moore.

  She is a Moore, whether she likes it or not—a trust-fund baby whose father’s wealth is reported by the media much more often than she would like.

  Oh, hush, you can’t comment on that.

  Smiling, I can practically hear the sarcasm in Natalie’s text.

  And why not?

  Because you’re a twenty-nine-year-old doctor, for starters. Women line up to drop their panties for you.

  I chuckle and shove another fry into my mouth.

  Not interested in a gold digger.

  Same. But if you know of any good guys out there, send them my way.

  A weird tingle creeps down my spine.

  Will do.

  “What’s that look for?” Jack asks, his burger halfway to his mouth.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing.” I set my phone back into the cupholder. “Just texting with Natalie.”

  “Good. Because now that you’ve taken this vow with me, Nat better be the only female you’re texting with these days.”

  “Noted.”

  Why does the prospect of that not bother me in the slightest?

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  Thank you so much to my amazing team. Dani, Alyssa, Pam, Erin, Becca, Carrie, KP, Elaine and Flavia—you are all so wonderful and I feel blessed to work with such incredible talent. A huge thank you to my readers who make everything possible. Thank you for reading and loving my books. Every reader deserves a hot hero and a happy ending!

  A big tackle hug and a butt grab to my sweet husband for supporting me in everything I do.

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  A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over two million books, and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller list more than three dozen times. Kendall has been featured in publications such as USA TODAY, Newsweek, and In Touch Magazine. She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.

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  Slow & Steady

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  Resisting Her

  The Impact of You

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  Dirty Little Promise

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  xo, Zach

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  For a complete list of Kendall’s books, visit:

  www.kendallryanbooks.com/all-books

 

 

 


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