“No,” Lex lied. “Blake, you should go.”
“No!” she yelled. “I can’t. He doesn’t understand what he thinks he saw. I just—I need to explain.”
“Fine.” Lex crossed his arms, bracing himself in the middle of the doorway. “Explain to me. Why the hell was some other guy kissing you?”
She was silent for a few breaths. Then she said, “I’d rather talk to Ian about that.”
“Tough shit. You’ve got me. Talk or leave, I don’t give a damn.”
“He kissed me!”
“Tale as old as time.” Lex sneered. “And you kissed him back. Am I missing any important details, where you pushed him away, kneed him in the balls, screamed at the top of your lungs?”
“I did . . . push him away . . . after a bit.”
“And you hesitated. That doesn’t speak well for you, or for the way you think about my best friend. The same best friend that I’m pretty sure is going to want to quit the most lucrative business concept I’ve seen in decades, all because some girl who doesn’t even know how to dress without his help thought she would aim a bit higher and cheat.” I clenched the wood stairwell so tight my hands hurt. I was torn between wanting to defend her and wanting to yell at her like he was.
“Aim higher?” She laughed. “With David? Are you insane?”
“You must be so proud of yourself,” Lex said in a low voice. “The one girl to take down Ian Hunter, and you didn’t even keep him. You just tossed him aside once your childhood crush looked your way. Do you think David would even care about you if Ian hadn’t put you on his radar? Do you think he cares about you now?”
“We’re friends. That’s it.”
“And you and Ian were . . . what?”
“Dating! We are dating!”
“You kissed another dude. That means whatever you and Ian had is over. Be expecting the contract termination in the morning. I’m tired of talking to you, and honestly, I think you’re a bitch. There. I said it. Go cry into your pillow about how horrible men are. Better yet, I bet David would love to comfort you. Spread your legs for him. We’re done here.”
The door slammed.
Stunned, I waited for Lex to say something to me, but he was silent, scary silent, as he paced in front of the door, then kicked the wall with his foot.
“Heard that?” Lex asked in a hoarse voice.
“Hard not to.”
“I didn’t mean to call her a bitch. I got caught up in the moment.” Lex suddenly jerked his head up and smiled. “You can thank me later.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, thank you later?”
“You ever wonder why you do dates so well?” He gave a careless shrug. “Why I’ve always been happy to let you train the clients in the art of seduction while I only work on kissing techniques and breakups?”
“No, but I feel like you’re about to reveal some hidden talent.” The pain was less severe when I wasn’t thinking about her voice, about how sad she sounded.
“My specialty? Breakups. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, but . . . I think we can add that specialty to Wingmen Inc. We help people break up, we can also help them get back together. If she cares for you, she’s going to be back, in three, two, one.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Lex lifted an eyebrow at me, then jerked the door open. “Didn’t I tell you to run along?”
“Just”—Blake pushed against Lex’s chest—“stop talking for two seconds so I can speak without having to defend myself. Tell Ian I’ll be back. And if he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m going to climb into his window. And if he locks me out, I’m going to break it with my Caboodle, or something equally as heavy. I won’t stop until he hears me out. And I think . . .” She was silent. Was she crying? “I think I love him.”
My world stopped spinning.
I slunk to the floor, nearly tumbling down the stairs as I waited in stunned silence for Lex to say something.
“Good answer. We’ll be in touch.” With that, he slammed the door in her face, gave me a cocky grin, and said, “Told ya so.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
My bed freaking smelled like Blake, which was really ironic since I knew firsthand what smell did to the memory. It’s why I used only certain body washes around the clients, certain colognes, creating an attachment yet making sure that attachment wasn’t so tight that they felt like they were more in love with me than the guy they were chasing. I needed to earn their trust, but not so much that they attached emotionally.
Never, in my wildest imagination, did I think it would backfire on me, that the roles would be reversed and I’d have to sleep in a hellish combination of lavender and vanilla-scented shampoo, with my body strung so tight that I was afraid of too much friction from the sheets while I dreamed of her at night.
She’d said she loved me.
I wasn’t sure I believed her.
Everyone loved me, or everyone thought they did.