The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“Uh-uh.” She held up a stern finger. “Don’t! No empty platitudes between us, Mason Carlisle. I like that we now know where we stand with each other. No misunderstandings. You’re the wingman. I’m the ugly girl.”

“Come on, Daisy. Don’t call yourself that,” he chastised uncomfortably.

“Anyway,” she said, brushing aside his comment, “do you feel, like, super guilty about everything that’s happened tonight?”

“I do,” he said, a small frown indenting his brow as he wondered what would come next. He had felt seriously punch drunk and wrong-footed from the moment he’d met this woman, and it made him both uncomfortable and ridiculously lighthearted. He liked her unpredictability and her offbeat sense of humor, and truth be told, despite his expectations to the contrary, he hadn’t been bored once this evening.

“So I’ve given this some thought—well, okay, I’ve only just thought about it, but I think it’s a fabulous idea—and I was wondering if you would consider being my wingman?” The blunt question shocked him, and he stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment as he tried to process her words.

“What?”

“I was hoping you’d feel guilty enough to do me a favor and consider being my wingman,” she elaborated, which didn’t really clarify anything at all.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he admitted. How could he be her wingman? How would that even work? Like in the traditional sense. Did that mean . . . “Wait, are you . . . are you gay?”

He watched her lips crook up at the corners and her mischievous eyes lit with laughter, and he liked that he could make her smile again. It eased his guilt somewhat. Not much, but it was a start.

“No. I’m not gay. I don’t mean that kind of wingman. Lia’s getting married. Remember?”

“Yes?” God she was confusing. And interesting . . . very, very interesting.

“So I need a date. Someone who’ll deflect the inevitable well-meaning comments about how at least I have my brain and don’t need a man to support me or whatever else people have to say to me this time. Seeing me show up with a ripped, good-looking guy like you will confuse the hell out of them, and while they won’t believe for an instant that we’re seriously dating, at least it’ll shut them up while they regroup. Leaving me to enjoy my sister’s wedding in peace.”

“Uh . . .” Mason wasn’t sure what to say. On the one hand, he did feel terrible about the way things had gone down tonight and wanted to make it up to her. On the other hand, weddings and monkey suits and rich snobby people just weren’t his scene. Then again, it could be entertaining as hell to see how this sharp, witty woman dealt with those people at her sister’s wedding.

“Free food, drink, and lots of hot women for you to ogle,” she said in a wheedling tone of voice, and he felt himself grinning at her.

“I don’t ogle other women when I’m out with someone,” he corrected. “But free food and drink? I think that’s worth the price of admission.”

“Seriously?” she squeaked, looking genuinely shocked by his words, and his grin widened when he comprehended that the little fast-talker hadn’t been half as confident as she had let on.

“Sure, why the hell not?” It was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized that they were exactly what he had said to his brother before falling down this particular rabbit hole.

Daisy was stunned that he had agreed but even more surprised that she had asked him in the first place. She wasn’t sure where this idea had come from, but as she’d continued chatting with him, it had seemed like an ideal solution to a problem that had been looming in her immediate future. At least she knew exactly where she stood with this guy. He was good looking, seemed fairly personable, and he had already hurt her—more than she would ever have believed possible from someone who was a relative stranger to her.

She liked him a lot, and that’s probably why it was so painful. But she was angrier with herself for being hurt by something that—in retrospect—should have been completely obvious from the moment he’d approached her. She’d never give him the opportunity to hurt her again, and that’s why she would be perfectly safe with him as her wedding date. She had been inoculated against his charm thanks to tonight’s farce. Her heart was safe in his presence.

“When is this thing?” he asked, knocking her out of her reverie.

“Exactly two weeks away,” she said. “It’s a weekend thing, on the Wild Coast, so you’ll have to pack a bag.”

“We should be seen together before then,” he said. “To make our romance seem a little bit more realistic.”

“I didn’t say we would pretend to be romantically involved,” she said, alarmed. “No one would believe that.”