Pretty Pink Ribbons (A Touch of Fate 2)

“We’re still on. I’ll meet you at Flame at five o’clock tomorrow evening.” I hear laughing in the background and I wonder who the hell she is with. Mia left last week so I know it isn’t her.

“What are you doing this evening?” I ask, because I’m fucking nosy and I want to know who’s there. “You can come celebrate with Mason and me if you’re bored.”

“Thank you, but Benny and Luke are here and we’re about to watch a movie.” Benny is over there all the damn time. I know it shouldn’t bother me; it’s not like I’ve laid claim to Laney. But it still pisses me off. “I just hope I can stay awake for the darn thing.”

“Are you tired?” I ask, looking down at my watch—it’s only seven o’clock. “You’ve been tired a lot lately . . . is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine,” she says dismissively. “I’m good, you just go and have fun, okay?”

“Alright, well, I’m going to go meet up with Mason. Enjoy your movie, and tell Luke I said hi.”

“I will.” She pauses and I’m about to say goodbye when she says my name. “Levi?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Lane. That means a lot.” And it does. Probably more than it should, but I’m not in the mood to dive into that right now. “Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Levi.”

I hang up the phone, stuff it in

my suit pocket and make my way over to Blue, where I’m certain Mason is already celebrating enough for the both of us. And sure enough, I walk in to find him sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of women. Mason is a ladies’ man, through and through. The girls fucking flock to him, and although I’ve never had problems getting laid, I’ve used him as my wingman once or twice. Too bad the bastard is still hung up on Quinn, and she sure as hell isn’t giving him the time of day . . . at least not that I’m aware of.

“Levi,” Mason calls, spotting me from his seat at the bar. “Get your ass over here.” I walk across the wooden floor toward the bar, and Tatum comes flying around the corner and straight into my arms.

“Congratulations,” she squeals, tightening her grip around my neck. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Tatum.”

“Can I transfer to the one in Chicago?” she asks, pulling away from me.

“Are you serious?” My brows dip low. “You don’t like it here?”

“It’s not that. I’m just ready for a change, and I’ve heard Chicago is fantastic.”

“We’ll see. We haven’t even officially agreed to the deal yet.”

“Just promise you’ll think about it.”

“I promise. Now get back to work.” She skips away as I yell, “Crown and Coke.”

“Coming your way,” she hollers back. When I make it to Mason, he already has two empty glasses in front of him and one in his hand.

“Balls to the wall tonight, huh?” I nod at his empty glasses and he grins.

“Hell yeah. This is fucking fantastic. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. I’m thinking Nashville sounds about perfect.” Tatum must have been watching him because when she brings me my drink, she has another for Mase. His words catch me off guard. I push past a busty blonde with a quick ‘excuse me’ and take the seat next to my brother.

“Could you girls give us a few minutes?” It’s been nice having our fair share of women, but sometimes it’s just plain annoying. I’ve had a hard-and-fast rule for the past several years—no fucking the same woman twice. It seems Mason and I have made a name for ourselves in the area. Flame and Blue have become hotspots for several professional sports players, and that alone will bring in the crowds. We’ve also hosted several parties for various celebrities that have been in town. Of course, the women see that and they want a piece of it. So once is it for me. The few times I’ve bent my rule, I’ve ended up with a clingy female who apparently thought ‘this is just sex’ actually meant ‘he’s going to propose.’

The women at the bar do eventually take off, but not until after a few last attempts at flirting. I’ve gotten good at ignoring them or politely declining, especially in recent years. I’m thirty years old now and the majority of these girls are barely twenty-one.

Mason nods at a sexy brunette when she whispers something in his ear, and he must have agreed to something good because she walks away with a huge smile on her face. I shake my head at him, but he just chuckles and shrugs. “What can I say?”

“You finally over Quinn?” That must sober him up a bit because the happy-go-lucky look on his face quickly transforms into something resembling annoyance.

“We’re not talking about Quinn,” he says, bringing his glass to his mouth.