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

“Phallophobia.”
    “The fear of the letter P ?”
    He scratched his chin. “Nah, the fear of male genitalia. But don’t worry, we’ll get you over it. The first time’s scary for everyone; we’ll rip that Band-Aid right off.”
    “Swear on Ian’s soul if you show me your penis I’m going to whack it with my hand, and not a good whack but one that will take the tiny appendage from one end of the room to the other, where my cat will most likely pee on it and make it so no woman ever touches you again. Eunuch,” I said through clenched teeth. “You’ll be a eunuch. But hey, if that future sounds like fun, and you feel like taking a walk on the wild side, by all means, unzip, Casanova.”
    “So . . .” Lex nodded knowingly, as if he had a dirty secret. “You got a sexual cat fantasy? Good to know.”
    “That’s what you took from that whole speech? That I wanted you dressed up as a cat?”
    “I’d probably do a song from the musical right before you org—”
    I covered his mouth with my hand and shook my head. “Lex . . . I will kill you.”
    “You say that at least ten times a day. It’s lost its effect, Sunshine.”
    “Let’s just”—I moved away from him—“go over the next few pages, make me understand, and work your Lex magic, and then we can talk about sexual phobias.”
    “Promise?” He licked his lips.
    “EXPLAIN THIS!” I pushed the book into his hands. “And I may not kill you.”
    “Sweet.”
    “I said may.”
    “I’m not worried. I’m a genius.”
    “And yet you still managed to get herpes.”
    Lex rolled his eyes, picked up the book, and cleared his throat. “Give me twenty minutes, and you’ll know this backward and forward.”
    “Isn’t that what you say to girls in bed?”
    “Actually, yes . . .” His eyebrows pushed together. “But I typically only need five to ten with them.”
    It was going to be a long morning and an even longer day.

Chapter Five
    Lex
    W hat should have taken twenty minutes took twenty-two, which irritated me because I wasn’t typically wrong. Then again, if Gabi hadn’t raised her hand every other sentence, I wouldn’t have had to stop and tell her to put her damn hand down. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I sat on both her hands, grabbed her by the face, and explained the last two points.
    I could tell the exact second the concepts suddenly made sense. Her eyes widened, and then in typical Gabs fashion she grinned so big her eyes nearly disappeared into two tiny slits. She was always like that, smiling with her entire face. If someone gave me a picture only of her eyes and asked if she was happy or sad, I’d be able to tell—not that I would ever admit that out loud to anyone. Hell, it was hard admitting it to myself.
    “So.” I rubbed my hands together. “Any more questions?”
    “How?”
    I frowned and looked down at the discussion questions. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Sunshine.”
    Gabs stood and stretched her arms over her head. I purposefully looked away and then muttered under my breath, “You really should wear deodorant.”
    A pillow smacked me in the nose, making my eyes water.
    “How does a computer science major know Organic Chem?”
    “Easy.” I shrugged. “I was bored in high school so they kept putting me in AP classes, and then when my teachers found out that I spent most of my class time listening to music and drawing stick-figure renditions of my classmates, they told my mom to either enroll me in harder classes my senior year or get me out. I chose harder classes.” I smiled wickedly. “I always choose harder . . .”
    Gabs ignored me and put her hands on her hips, a move I refused to fall prey to, though most guys couldn’t help themselves. When a chick put her hands on her hips, it was basically like a homing beacon for a guy’s eyes, a big giant red arrow that said “Look. Right. Here.”
    I did not look. Someone should probably give me a medal, because her jeans were