Page 10 of Pucking Your Best Friend

Yeah, maybe. Today, yes.Well then, I’ll just give one a try. Fifty-fifty chance.

He was about to put the phone down when the screen lit up again.

Don’t you dare! Look at her clothes. Yesterday, she was wearing a name tag. On her blouse.

Ah, right. Man, Maddie was smart.

Checking, he replied hastily and carefully slid out from under the blankets. Next, he slipped into his boxer shorts and tiptoed across the cold oak floor of the cramped apartment, searching for the uniform he had peeled off Jessica or Jane’s body yesterday. As Maddie had predicted, there was a nametag pinned to it.

It saidJennifer. Well, he’d been close.

Found it, he wrote.Thanks!

Don’t thank me for that…and why are you still in the waitress’ apartment? It’s almost half past nine!

Oh. He hadn’t even looked at the clock.

Fuck, he typed and hastily pulled on his pants before putting the phone away. He had training at ten and their coach, Parker Gray, didn’t like it when anyone was late. Plus, he wanted to stop by the dry cleaners to pick up his clothes. Some said it was a waste that he never did his own laundry, but Matt had grown up with four sisters and had done laundry every day of his youth. What good was all that wealth if you had to wash your own boxers?

Exactly. Nothing.

Cursing quietly, he pulled on his shirt and was about to leave the apartment when he paused.

Seriously, Matt? First, you forget her name and then you leave without saying anything?his conscience whispered, which sounded a hell of a lot like Maddie.

Groaning, he turned and found a piece of paper and a pen on the table in the hallway.

Thanks for the great night, Jenny. It was fun.

She wouldn’t hold it against him that he had left. She wasn’t looking for anything serious any more than he was. Otherwise, Maddie would never have brought her to his attention. She made an effort to make sure heonly slept with women who wouldn’t end up getting hurt. Besides, the waitress had invited him in on her own accord with the words,I live right around the corner and I have whipped cream.No, she wouldn’t take the message the wrong way. He didn’t care what Maddie said, women usually took him home to do dirty things with him, not for interior design tips. She was the exception.

He didn’t quite know how it happened, but apparently, he was now the furniture-rescue hotline. At least, it sure seemed like Maddie called him every time something needed to be moved.

Oh, it was only fair.

He sprinted down the stairs, squinting against the hazy November sun, and jogged down the street to his BMW, which was still parked in front of the Ice Lounge. Yesterday, he had been at the L.A. Hawks’ local bar with Maddie and a few of his teammates. He hadn’t been drinking – Coach Parker would rip his head off if he got drunk during the season – so thank God he was able to drive to the nearby arena.

As he got in, he wondered if he shouldn’t be somewhat celibate for the next few weeks, slow down a bit and concentrate more on the game again. He simply had too much free time he wasn’t using wisely. It was all because Dax had hooked up with Lucy and was madly in love. What would his –

He stopped because his cell phone rang andMomflashed on the screen. Speak of the devil. Groaning, he tilted his head back, slid the cell phone into the holder on the dashboard, and activated speaker phone. He had forgotten the name of last night’s conquest, so he couldn’t ignore his mom, too. That would be too much asshole for one day.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and pulling out of the parking space.

“Matthew, you still haven’t responded,” his mother immediately stated. Sandra Payne was a woman of few words.

“Responded to what?”

“The invitation!”

He frowned. She’d have to be more specific. He had four sisters, all of whom had gotten married, had children, or received promotions in the last few months. He was invited to some important family function weekly: A baptism, an engagement party, a first day at school, a bowling tournament, a theater performance… It was impossible to keep track of it all.

“The invitation,” he said slowly.

“Matty. Your father and I are celebrating our silver wedding anniversary at the end of the month,” his mother reminded patiently.

Oh, right!

“Honey, I truly don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy and you tend to forget to put things on your calendar, but it’s important to your father and me that you’re there.”

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