Lucky Number Eleven

Chapter Sixteen

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."