Page 50 of The Wingman

“Yes.” After we walked in, she asked to take a photo with him, but he dragged me into it, too. “She mentioned she hadn’t seen much of Vancouver, like, four times.”

He shrugs. “It’s not like she’s going to have time for sightseeing. They were telling me about their shooting schedules. They have zero free time.”

I can’t tell whether he’s being deliberately obtuse or not. “Hayden, the only sightseeing she wanted to do was in your pants.”

He shoots me a roguish grin. “My dick?”

“Mhm.” I nod, stifling a laugh. “She wants to get to know little Hayden.”

His expression turns knowing and cocky. “It’s notlittle.”

God, I remember. Heat races through me. “It’s none of my business.” I put on a disinterested expression, even though I’m very, very interested in hearing more. “And I’m not judging.”

“Hey.” He leans forward, getting in my face, making hard eye contact, and I start shaking with laughter. He stares at me dead-on with a mock-serious expression while his eyes sparkle. “It’s not little, okay? It’s huge, like a baseball bat. It’s a monster. Women call it Godzilla.”

I act revolted. “No one calls it that.”

“They would if I asked them to,” he adds, grinning. “Lots of women can vouch for it not being little.”

“I’m sure.” A bad taste fills my mouth. I shovemy straw between my lips and take a long sip to wash it away. “I’m sure Queen Amethyst would love to fact-check that.”

He makes an unhappy noise of acknowledgment.

“She’s exactly your type,” I say for some reason, because I just can’t shut up about this.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. Super tall, long dark hair, big boobs.” I make an hourglass shape with my hand. “Great butt. Tiny waist.”

Queen Amethyst could probably crush my ribcage with her thighs while I cried for mercy.

Hayden frowns at me.

“All the women you date fit that description.”

He looks away, jaw ticking like he wants to say something. “Darcy?”

I swallow. “What?”

“Shut up,” he says gently, smiling, and I snort at myself.

“Right. We’re on a date do-over,” I say. “No trying to hook you up with other women.”

“Look at you.” He reaches over and puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’re a quick study.”

He’s being touchy-feely tonight for a change, and pleasure loops through me.

“Taught by the best.”

His smile dims and he takes his arm back. “How was work this week?”

“Fine.” I shrug. He makes a hand gesture for me to continue, and I give him a flat look. “My job isn’t conversation material for a date.”

He watches me for a moment, and I can’t read his expression. “You used to talk my ear off about the stuff you were working on.” His eyes narrow as he looks away, thinking. “Your school project in fourth-year university. The scholarship thing?”

“The Women in STEM prediction model.” I used government data to determine which girls entering university had the lowest chance of finishing based on financial hardships. “They still use it today, actually, to allocate scholarships and funding. With updated data every year, of course.”

His mouth hooks into a proud smile, his warm gaze moving over me, and I grin into my drink.

---