Free The Matchmaker's Replacement [Kindle in Motion] (Wingmen Inc. Book 2) by Rachel van Dyken Page B

he?”
    Finally, I looked up from my drink, careful to keep my emotions indifferent as I took in her cherry-red lips, dark eyeliner, and flat-ironed hair, which was in her face. I hated when her hair was in her face. It made her look too seductive, giving the impression that she was hiding secrets, secrets she’d gladly tell you if you could make it past the barrier of silky smooth hair.
    “You wore makeup,” I said dumbly. Too much. I liked her natural, vulnerable. Today she wore a mask, one I didn’t approve of. My hand twitched for the napkin, ready to smear it off so I could see her—really see her. But doing that would just piss her off. Then again . . .
    “Don’t.” Her eyes narrowed as she gripped my hand with hers. “Don’t you dare dip your napkin into the water and try to wipe anything off my face.”
    “That transparent?” My hand tingled with awareness.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, damn.”
    “Losing your touch, Lex Luthor?”
    “In the comics he rarely loses his touch, simply alters his plans. Evil geniuses are like that. Thought you knew. Where one strategy fails . . .” I leaned forward and with my free hand brushed a bit of lipstick from her mouth with my thumb. Her lips parted as she drew a tiny breath.
    It wasn’t an invitation, but damn, I wanted it to be.
    What the hell were we doing?
    I needed to put walls up again—fast. And not because I was afraid she’d see through my bullshit and save me from a lonely existence where I indulged in meaningless sex with too many women. Hell, put her in a firefighter’s costume and ring the siren. I just respected Ian too much, and, honestly, I respected her just as much, if not more.
    A guy like me didn’t typically have a conscience or scruples, and friends were even more of a rarity—especially with the way I grew up. The last thing I could afford to lose was them.
    A vision of my childhood came bulldozing into my consciousness. Fighting. My parents were always fighting. Over finances, over the house being messy, over having more kids. Thank God I was an only child, because I wasn’t sure I would have survived without punching my dad in the face for the way he probably would have treated a younger sibling.
    In hindsight, both parents were equally responsible for my unruly behavior. I’d been so desperate for one of them to put down the research or step away from the computer and at least have a normal conversation with me that I was willing to do anything for attention—even the bad kind.
    I lost my virginity at thirteen.
    Who the hell does that?
    A guy who really has no other options for human companionship. My parents were cold individuals who never should have had kids, considering they loved work more than family, and based on everything I’d seen on TV, that wasn’t how families worked. TV raised me; my parents simply lived with me.
    A guy who girls were naturally drawn to because of his good looks and ability to smooth-talk anyone or anything. At the time, it had been this huge confidence boost. Girls wanted me, I wanted them. Period. I gained acceptance, and it felt good—until it stopped feeling good and just started feeling empty.
    Until my parents, after finding me in bed with a girl that same year—in my bedroom, of all places, under their roof—simply ignored me more.
    My dad gave me a condom the next day.
    Some parents.
    My behavior became increasingly self-destructive.
    Until Ian.
    Even after my family moved across town, Ian never stayed out of touch.
    It was Ian who convinced me I should go to science camp that next year. Ian who made me think that there was more to the world than sleeping around.
    At least now when I slept with women, I didn’t do it because I needed love—I did it because I enjoyed it. And because, for the most part, I knew that it made them feel good, and I knew that look, that empty feeling that sometimes disappeared when you were in someone’s arms, even if for just a few minutes.
    “ Le-e-exxxx