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

really nice—baggy but nice.
    “Gabs, I’m saying this in the kindest way possible, but if those aren’t boyfriend jeans, you need new ones.”
    She frowned and looked down. They bagged at the knees and hips. What the hell? I teased her about gaining weight, but really it was the opposite. Holy shit! Were my comments making her anorexic? Panic filled my chest and radiated to my arms, legs, fingertips. Without thinking, I jumped to my feet. “We should eat before we work.”
    Gabs yawned, then grabbed her purse. “I just had a scone, though.”
    “Typical females at your age and height need at least eighteen hundred and forty-eight calories a day, give or take a few calories. It all depends on physical activity, metabolism, and how much you sit.”
    “Thank you, Siri. I don’t remember ass-dialing you, but as always you’re so very helpful.”
    Fun Lexism: I had a really weird tendency to just throw random facts out into the universe when I was uncomfortable or nervous—which was usually never.
    Damn Gabi, making me lose my edge on life. For my own sanity I needed Training Day to be over with so I could get back to my little black book full of numbers and needy women who wouldn’t care less if I spent the night in their arms and jumped into someone else’s a few hours later.
    Not that I liked women’s arms.
    Too clingy.
    I wasn’t into that.
    “Stop bitching. I’m going to feed you twice in one day. You should be worshipping the ground I walk on. Aren’t you poor? Eating Top Ramen and mac and cheese?”
    I eyed her bare countertops and had half a mind to peek in her cupboards to see if she even had any canned goods. What the hell? I knew she was short on funds, but she could still eat, right?
    Her stomach growled.
    Gabs immediately blushed, bringing her hand to her stomach. “It’s just the pot scone digesting.”
    I burst out laughing. “Pot on an empty stomach, not the most wise choice. But hey, who am I to judge, mon?”
    “You aren’t Jamaican.”
    “Finally! Someone who knows I’m white.” I sighed heavily. “Thank God. I’ve been mistaken for Kanye at least twice today.”
    “Well, the ego matches, so I can understand how people would be confused.”
    “Thanks, Sunshine.” I messed up her hair and pushed open the screen door. “Now hurry up. It’s food time, and then we train.” I turned around and walked backward so I could see her expression, which wasn’t at all eager or even a little bit excited. In fact, she looked like she was going to start blowing chunks. “Don’t worry, we’ll treat this as a little pretend date. God knows the last one of those you were on didn’t go well . . .”
    “I hate how much Ian tells you.” She reached for the car door, but I made it before her and opened it.
    Time froze.
    I freaking hated it when that happened.
    When we experienced those moments, the ones that only you and that other person are aware of but refuse to talk about.
    Gabs tucked her dark hair behind her ear and ducked into the car, mumbling out a thanks, while I tried to slam it as hard as I could after her. I wasn’t pissed, but I sure as hell didn’t want her to think I was in love with her either.
    Not that opening a car door proclaimed marriage, but in a relationship like ours? It sure as hell felt like a promise ring.
    “So, where to?” Gabs asked once I started the car.
    “Hell.” I smiled brightly. “Where else?”

    “I can’t believe I’m about to say thank you twice in one day . . .” Gabs looked down at the table. “But thank you.”
    “What was that?” I cupped my ear. “My inflated ego didn’t hear you. Please, stroke it a few more times.”
    “There will be no stroking.”
    “Your loss.”
    “Highly doubt that.”
    “If you stroked, your doubts would be alleviated, believe me.” I pushed the basket of chips closer to her. “Eat a few more.”
    “Says the guy who calls me fat.”
    “I ask if you’ve gained weight. I never mean it in a