Page 19 of End Game

brANCH

“Tiffany, this is Branch Best.” Finn makes the introduction, his arm around Poppy. “Branch, Tiffany Standen.”

Tiffany, the woman of the hour, makes no secret of checking me out. She scoops her eyes down my body, licking her lips on the return trip. Her own body is smashed into a skin-tight white dress and a little tiara with white and pink feathers sits atop her reddish locks.

“Branch Best, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Happy Birthday,” I say, looking over her shoulder as discreetly as I can. A group of women walk in and I scan them quickly and then return to Tiffany when none of them are Layla.

“You could make sure it’s a very happy one,” she breathes.

Finn cackles beside me while I feel Poppy’s gaze settling on my features, waiting on my response.

Smiling awkwardly, I take a deep breath. “I think that lady over there is trying to get your attention.”

Turning to see a thin woman in a red dress in the corner, she gives her a little wave. “I have to talk to my party planner really quick. I hope we can catch up later.”

There’s no promise offered of a hook up later from my end. She’s fine to look at and I halfway think I’ve fucked her before, but surely one of us would remember that.

“See ya,” she says, waving at me over her shoulder.

She teeters away on heels so tall I wonder how long it’ll take her to wind up on that very round ass before the night is over. My guess is broken up when Poppy speaks beside me.

“Finn,” she says. “Will you get me a drink? Please.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Nothing too hard. It’s too early for that.”

He smirks. “First time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

She laughs, her hair brushing against her back as she shoos Finn away. Then she turns to me, her face sobering. “I didn’t know you knew Tiffany.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

She knows the fucking answer. She knows I’m trying to run into her randomly . But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the tone she used to ask the question.

There was no eagerness to it. No excitement. No hint this could be awesome. Nope, none of that. Instead, her eyes are narrow with a touch of something else that leads me to believe this encounter, should it happen, will be anything but awesome.

“Is Layla here with someone else?” I ask.

She takes a second, one too many, to consider this. “Not exactly.”

My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding together, as I try to prepare myself to see the girl I can’t stop thinking about waltzing in here with another guy. Surely Poppy would’ve just told me if she was seeing someone else.

“It’s not Worthington, is it?”

“No,” she huffs. “It’s not Callum. It’s no one, really. She’s . . . Fine. She’s alone, Branch.”

“Then why say that? You just about got someone hurt.”

“Forget it. It was a joke gone bad. Just . . .” She looks at the chandelier hanging above us in the penthouse of the Standen Hotel. “You need to give her some space tonight, okay? She doesn’t know you’re here and she just needs some . . . space.”

“Did I do something to offend her?” I ask, an odd sensation coming over me. “Did I hurt her or say something really stupid?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then why are you acting like I should stay away from her, Poppy?”

Very slowly, her chin drops until we’re face-to-face. There’s no joke on the tip of her tongue, no silly comeback that she always has ready to fire. In the vacancy lies a seriousness that has me forcing a swallow.

She considers her words. “She has some things going on, Branch. I’m sure she’ll talk to you, but just be gentle if you see her, please.”

Be gentle?

“Just between you and me,” I say, “she doesn’t like it gentle.”

“Branch!”

“Fine. I hear you. Be easy with her. Got it.”

Her arms plant firmly across her chest. “You are so not going to heed any of what I said, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Damn you.”

“I’ll be gentle, even though I think that’s the pussiest word I’ve ever heard,” I admit. “But if I see her, I’m going to talk to her. If she tells me to go fuck myself for some reason, I’ll probably do just that because I’ve been doing that for the last few weeks every time I think of her.”

“Nice visual.”

“I have it down to a science. I use the left hand for foreplay and the right to bring it home.”

“Oh my God,” she laughs, shaking her head.

“You rang?” Finn pops between us and pulls Poppy into his side and hands her a drink. “What are you thinking, Best? See anyone you know?”

“Not yet, but you know me. I make friends everywhere I go.”

Finn chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call them.”

“Speaking of, I’m going to mingle. You two kids behave.”

Poppy tries to shoot me a warning glance, but I avoid receiving it. Instead, I spin on my heel and wander about the penthouse that’s the stage for the birthday bash.

There are crystals everywhere, dangling off light fixtures and filling vases with big, drippy candles.

Music plays through the sound-system, broken up by someone on a mic saying a deejay will be starting soon.

I lift a mini-burger off a tray carried around by a man in a white jacket and look for Layla.

People begin to show up in thicker droves, yet the party is much more controlled than I anticipated. I meander through the throngs of people with the burger in my hand, saying hello to various people as I go.

Her giggle stops me dead in my tracks, my eyes glued to an oversized golden mirror on the wall ahead. I listen, my senses on high alert, waiting for the sound to come again.

Watching the reflection, bodies move behind me. The deejay is firing up an early-two-thousands hit when I see her.

A pinkish-orange dress hugs her curves, her hair hanging softly around her shoulders. She looks beautiful with her rosy cheeks and bright eyes. She radiates a simple elegance that I can’t look away from.

She catches me watching her, one hand flying to the base of her throat.

Her eyes go wide and cause the lady she’s speaking with to ask her if she’s all right.

I see her nod, telling them she’s okay, then excusing herself into a crowd to her left.

It takes me a whole half a second to follow her, dumping the uneaten burger on a table.

Thanks to her heels and my athletic ability, I catch up with her right as she’s heading onto a balcony off a bedroom. The air is warm, thick with the scents of the city with twinkling lights sparkling on the river below.

“Hey,” I say, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind me. She stands at the railing, her back to me, and doesn’t respond to my greeting. “Are you okay, Layla?”

“I’m fine, Branch. How are you?”

“A little confused.”

She nods but still doesn’t face me. “The city is so beautiful from here. So peaceful.”

I stand next to her so close the fabric of our clothes touch, but our bodies beneath don’t. She sucks in a breath as I place one hand beside hers on the black iron rail. “It’s quiet,” I admit. “It’s hard to believe it’s Chicago. It reminds me of home.”

“What’s it like where you’re from?”

“Memphis is a city that feels like a town,” I tell her softly. “It’s nice and quiet for the most part and has that Southern hospitality thing going for it.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is.”

“Does your family live there?”

Turning my head, I take her in. The breeze rustles her hair, her perfume filling the air making me want to wrap her up and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her. It’s a wild, strange phenomenon to want to simply kiss her.

“My family does live there. My parents live in the same house I grew up in,” I tell her, not sure why the questions all of a sudden. “I tried to buy them a new one when I signed the first contract, but they’re stubborn.”

“And proud, I bet.”

“My dad has an entire room devoted to me in the house. It’s like a shrine or something. It’s pretty awkward.”

She glances at me and we share a small, simple laugh.

“I imagine your dad is like a grown-up version of you,” she says. “Not as bulky, but more handsome in a Sam Elliott kind of way.”

“My mom would love that analogy. She has a major crush on him.”

“Every girl does, Branch,” she giggles. “He’s the epitome of getting sexier with age.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I say, making a face that causes some of the tension in her shoulders to melt away. The faint circles under her eyes grab my attention and a curiosity seats itself in the bottom of my gut. “How have you been?”

And that does it. Her face turns back to the city and I’m met with silence.

It’s an automatic response to place my hand over hers, just like it appears to be a reflex of hers to jump when we touch. Her head whips to the side where I’m just waiting to catch her eyes.

“Layla, did I do something to you?”

Her laugh is loud and full-bellied and filled with an anxious edge that has me withdrawing my hand from hers. She’s wiping tears from the reaction and catches her breath before even trying to talk.

My stomach flip-flops as I process this response, one I didn’t see coming and I don’t know how to categorize. Sorting through the memories from the cabin for the millionth time, I can’t put my finger on anything I could’ve said or done that would have been offensive or more stupid than usual.

“I’m glad you find me so funny,” I mutter, my gut twisted in a tight knot the same way it is when I’m standing at the line face-to-face with a cornerback.

“It’s really not funny.” She sucks in a hasty breath. “It’s not funny at all.”

“You know what,” I say, defense mechanisms kicking in, “I apologize for whatever it is. I’ll leave you alone. Have a good night, Layla.”

I head for the door, not bothering to give her a second to change her mind. I don’t even look at her over my shoulder. This is another girl playing games, a girl I just happen to let get under my skin in a moment of weakness.

My hand is on the pull when my name whispers through the air behind me. I freeze, processing the way it sounds like it was uttered on a whim, a last-second decision to call my name even though it’s clearly filled with a hesitancy to do it.