Fletcher

Should auld acquaintance be forgot…

My ass.

I repeated the sentiment beneath my breath while turning in my chair to stare over the San Diego skyline. The sun glinted brightly on the city’s more modern buildings, darkening along the terracotta curves of the older structures, crafted in the style of the classic California missions. Farther in the distance, the light sparkled across the gentle waves on Mission Bay.

Shiny, shiny, shiny. Everything and everybody was so happy. They all kept saying it, too. Happy New Year. Happy New Year. It was almost February 1st, and still everyone was going on and on about the Happy New Year.

“My ass.”

Saying it out loud didn’t help a damn thing—nor soften the memories taunting me again. It had been a happy new year—at first. I’d welcomed it in the best of ways—with my best friend, Drake Newland, and the woman of our dreams, wrapped in our arms at an intimate party for three. A night to remember. A woman to never forget. Talia Perizkova, with her huge brown eyes, her dark waterfall of hair and her perfect temptress’ body, had completely captivated Drake and me during one unforgettable night in Vegas—but since then, neither of us could nail her down for an encore. She’d escaped us like a frantic kitten, stopping only long enough to gather traction and run even further. Every time either of us had reached out, she’d had an excuse at the ready. A late-night project at work. A pre-planned event that simply ‘had’ to be attended. Hell, even that she had to wash her damn hair. Fuck. Was that one still around?

Events and projects and dirty hair. All handled—without us.

That bullshit ended now.

I wheeled back around to the desk, picked up my phone and texted Talia with a simple request. We weren’t taking no for an answer and, with Drake’s buy-in, I was running point on her track-down.

Where are you and when can we see you?

Straight to the point. That was my style. The woman should know that by now—as well as my expectation of an immediate answer. After a minute, I raised an impatient eyebrow at the screen, willing her to reply. When the phone went completely dark, I mentally composed a follow-up—not so nice this time.

The device vibrated in my hand. Thank fuck.

Pretty Princess Party Perfection

“What the hell?”

Care to elaborate?

LOL. My niece’s birthday party.

Okay, that makes more sense. When will you be done? We’re coming over.

These things can take a while. Becoming a princess is time-consuming work.

Text us when you get home. No more excuses, Tolly.

Excuses? I would never joke about dress-up and hairdos.

I jerked up my other brow. There were two things I’d learned about Miss Talia Perizkova in the past month. One—she was a master at hiding her true feelings. Two—she had the sweetest pussy I’d ever put my mouth on. “Damn,” I growled, fighting thoughts of those tender pink folds beneath my tongue. Complete waste of time. I was a goner, subconsciously rubbing my semi through my slacks as I stood and crossed the room.

I exited into the condo’s sprawling living room. Technically, the place belonged to our buddy, Killian Stone, but we were both sitting board members at Stone Global Corporation and had been heavily involved in launching a number of their subdivisions lately. Though we always stayed at one of SGC’s rental properties while we were in San Diego, this place was beginning to feel more like home than Chicago—especially since the Talia effect had taken hold. And that was completely fine by me.

Though at the moment, nothing was fine about that girl’s diversionary tactics.

Drake was definitely going to agree.

I went looking for my roommate, starting with his favorite room in the condo, the gym. Condo. Still felt ridiculous, calling this place that, as it was four-and-a-half thousand square feet of modern, top-of-the-line luxury. Killian’s decorating preferences were all over the place, a bit shocking since he usually let Mrs. Stone—a.k.a. the amazing Claire—handle the pretties in his world. Still, as Claire’s pregnancy gained momentum, Kil was treating her more and more like a china doll instead of a capable, healthy woman. On more than one occasion at the office, we’d all borne witness to the daggers she shot him from her frustrated glares—looks that would’ve castrated a weaker man. But Kil had left us all slack-jawed by simply managing his trademark grin then popping a tender kiss to her forehead, making the woman melt into his side. The pair had what most people dreamed of in a relationship and the envy in the room was usually palpable.

Which—surprise, surprise—circled my mind right back to Talia. Seemed like most things did these days. Again, not a news flash. This was getting…disconcerting. And unnerving and amazing. And thrilling—

And terrifying.

I couldn’t remember having been so consumed by a woman before. I was pretty damn sure Drake echoed the feeling.

“Did you track her down?” The man’s question shook me out of my mental shadows.

“Uh…yeah.”

Drake cocked his head while reseating the dumbbells in the rack. “Are we playing ‘I’ve got a secret’ or are you going to tell me where she is?”

Patience was not Drake Newland’s best virtue.

“She’s at her niece’s birthday party. She doesn’t know how long it will go, so I told her to text us when she’s home.”

“Did she say she would?”

I grimaced. “No. She did her usual bit. Some cutesy quip then radio silence.”

Drake wiped a towel down his sweaty face. “Fuck. This.”

“Eloquently put.”

He hurled the towel into the hamper. “Well, did she say where the party was?”

“Uh—”

“Yes or no, man?”

“Yes. She did say where it was. But—”

“Great.” Drake started toward the door of the gym. “Let’s just go there. Surprise her.” He pulled up short when I didn’t budge. Took in my pristine white shirt and dress slacks before offering, “After I shower and change. Happy?”

I shook my head. “We—uh—may want to sit this one out, bro.”

“No.” He blocked the doorway to the hall. “I’m not waiting anymore. And why are you being so cagey? She needs to realize she can’t keep yanking us around like this.” He spun and marched down the hallway. “I’ll be showered and ready to leave in twenty minutes.”

“Ohhhh kaaaay.” I wanted to protest again, but his retreating back left no option, so I just grinned at my reflection in the long mirrored wall. If this went down the way I predicted, Mr. Marine was about to spend the afternoon getting the finest princess makeover a guy could ask for, complete with sparkly nail polish and a fairy-dusted hairdo. This would definitely be my next Snapchat story.

By the time we headed out in the piece-of-shit rental we were driving around and pulled into the strip mall down the street, my phone was out and set to camera. I waited, poised with the thing, ready to capture his face when the realization fell into place.

Didn’t take long.

“Fletch, what the fuck is this?”

I shrugged. “Told you we may want to sit this one out.”

He grunted. “You must have given me the wrong address. Look it up again.”

“No, man, this is it. Pretty Princess Party Perfection.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” The smirk came out. I just couldn’t help it anymore. “Let’s go get our girl.”

“Ahhhh…maybe you were right. Maybe we should wait.” Oh, the gears were clicking fast in his mind now. Girls. Not the fun grown-up kind. The soda-and-cake-filled, hyper-on-life kind. Lots of them. Screaming, giggling, twirling and reveling in their miniature diva status for the afternoon—primed and ready for a new victim.

He restarted the car. I reached over and turned it off. “No tucking tail now, man.”

“Fuck you.”

I hopped out of the car. “Tsk tsk, Prince Drake. Such language.” I patted the top of the car before slamming the door and calling over my shoulder, “Suit yourself. I’ll be happy to have some time alone with her.”

“Fuck that!” The driver’s-side door opened then slammed. Shitkickers pounded the blacktop behind me. Though Drake was a fashion plate at the office, always in head-to-toe custom-fitted suits and dress shirts, he fell back into his comfort-zone at home. His penchant for fatigues was legendary. Any camouflage print would do, despite how I cringed every time he put a pair on. Today, thank God, he’d had the sense to go with a regular pair of jeans.

I pulled the door open to Party Perfection, which was painted to look like an old wooden door of a castle.

Well. It was a party, all right.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the sound. Translation—the decibel-record-setting noise, trounced only by the bright pink-and-purple décor.

And the girls.

Everywhere.

In all sizes, from baby ones to teenaged ones. Some preened in pink salon chairs, getting their hair curled and twisted and sprayed. Some sat on large, ornate thrones with small tubs attached to the front, soaking their feet for their upcoming pedicures. Others rifled through racks of clothing, searching for the perfect princess attire. The ones who were ready for their fashion show were vamping it up on a mini runway lined in twinkle lights and twirling in a sea of disco ball sparkles.

My head was already spinning worse than that damn ball. I wondered if Drake’s was just going to explode right off his shoulders. What the hell had I gotten us into? And would we ever find out before the estrogen overload killed us?

“Good morrow, gentlemen!” An overly made-up girl at the reception desk sounded just as sugar-pumped as her clientele. “Are you lost? The tackle shop is three doors down on the—”

“No.” I leaned against the counter and poured on the charm. “We’re looking for the Perizkova party. We’re friends of one of the guests.” In went a smooth smile. Couldn’t hurt. The last thing we needed was to be tossed out.

“Interesting.” Blink. Blink. Then she just stared.

Drake’s patience was even thinner than normal. The man looked as though he would rather wrestle a pit of cobras than hang out in here another minute. It certainly wasn’t the time to bring it up, but it was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Where I was semi-used to this sort of event, because of my extended family, his sister and brother were both still single.

“If you could just point us in the right direction?”

He might as well have left off the question mark—though three-inch-thick-makeup girl seemed to enjoy his demanding tone. She eyed him up and down before grinning. “Sure thing, milord. Follow me. They’re in the back, at the makeup stations.”

We wove in and out of little princesses as we followed her to the back of the store. Six tall purple director’s chairs stood in a row, facing brightly lit mirrors. Each one had a young girl anxiously perched in it, with another woman working diligently on her makeup. There were giggles and whispers as we came to a halt near the first seat.

“Is your friend here?” The receptionist tried to crank down her skepticism, while keeping her roving eyes all over Drake.

“Oh. My. God.”

Huzzah. We’d been spotted by our very own princess. “What are you two doing here?” Talia bit out. For a second, I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Fuck. The woman was even more breathtaking with bright purple eyeshadow, glitter butterflies in her hair and a lopsided crown atop her head.

Drake, thank God, hadn’t let his head explode yet. “We came to see you.” He stamped out each word, openly daring her to challenge them. “You keep blowing us off, love.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “So, we came to you.”

Talia’s eyes grew wide. “I haven’t been blowing you off!” She walked over to where we stood—creating a wall of man so she couldn’t escape. “And stop calling me that!”

I slanted my head toward her. “Are we there again? I thought we handled that in Veg—”

“Ssshhh!” Her eyes weren’t just wide anymore. They looked terrified. “Can we…not mention Vegas right now?”

Drake turned a little, getting her back against the wall. A flock of sparkly butterflies appeared to be flying out of her head. “Why shouldn’t we mention Vegas?”

She popped up on her toes, darting anxious glances around the room. “This isn’t the time or the place. My entire family is here, okay? Well…the females, at least.”

Drake emitted a low rumble. “So we’ve noticed.”

Talia took that in—then suddenly burst into laughter. Just as instantly, my dick twitched. She really sounded as magical as a fairy princess.

“All right. I’ll bite,” I murmured. “What’s so funny, Tolly?”

“The two of you. Standing here. In the middle of all…this.” She waved her hand through the air to encompass this. I grinned, unable to help myself—deciding that was my favorite habit of hers. The way she waved her hands in the air when she was excited about something…it encompassed so many wonderful things about her personality. Her passion, her life—

But shit. Also her anger. Yeah, she definitely did the hand-waving thing when she was pissed, too—especially after the weekend we’d spent together in Las Vegas. Damn, that weekend. The two nights and three days that had changed absolutely everything about the three of us.

I didn’t want to see her pissed again for a long time.

Thankfully, now wasn’t going to be that time, either. Mischief actually began to twinkle in her eyes, forming adorable gold flecks against the sable hues. “Well, gentlemen. You’re here. Perhaps you’d like to join us?”

Drake took a turn at the flustered thing. “Uhhh…wh-what do you…?”

“Hey, I can’t leave until the party is over, and that’s not for another”—she swept her phone screen, checking the time— “two and a half hours.”

That was when I saw her game. Little sneak. She was actually banking on us leaving. I stepped up with a smooth-as-Astaire sweep, beating Drake to the answer. “We’d absolutely love to stay, baby. If you’re sure the birthday girl won’t mind?”

Cue the birthday girl.

“Auntie Talia?” A little girl walked up and studied us with eyes that were stunningly like Tolly’s. The little princess’s hair was pulled up into a bunch of elaborate curls, from which turquoise and purple extensions dangled. “Are these your boyfriends?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

We all answered in unison. The little girl inspected Drake and me as we stared at Talia—daring her to change her response.

“Anya, these are the men I work with. They’re friends of mine.” Her eyes never left ours, especially as she stomped on the word friends. Little minx—always pushing.

Though apparently, in her own way, Anya was on our side. “Well, they should be your boyfriends. They’re cute and”—she dramatically whispered the last part—“I think they like you.”

Drake and I traded smirks. Anya was a smart little thing for…what? Seven? Eight at the most?

“I like this kid,” Drake mumbled.

“Agreed,” I said.

“Shut. Up,” Talia gritted.

I squatted down to be on the birthday girl’s level. “So, it’s your birthday today?”

“Well, yes. Kind of. This is my party, but my real birthday was on Wednesday, but Mama said we couldn’t do the party on a school day, so we had to do it on this day.”

I lightly grabbed her white-gloved hand and bowed my head over it. “Your mama sounds like a very smart lady.”

Anya giggled. “You can stay if you want! Please say you will.” She turned a look up at Talia. “Auntie, don’t be rude! Tell them they can stay. They can play with me and my friends!”

“You and your—” Drake choked off the rest of it. As Talia and I swallowed back chuckles, he spluttered on, “Uhhhhhh…hey…we don’t mean to intrude, little one.”

“Princess Anya,” the girl pointedly reminded him.

“Right. Okay. Well, we just wanted to talk to your aunt for a minute or two.”

Talia clenched her jaw. “Two,” she ordered, flashing more of those gold knives in her eyes at us both. “Maximum.”

“Nonsense.” The source of the interjection walked over on graceful steps. An elderly lady, so strikingly similar to Talia that her identity wasn’t in doubt, pushed closer to sweep glitter off Talia’s nose. “Natalia! Let your friends stay a while. You have better manners than that.”

There’d been nothing wrong with the woman’s tone—except a full-blown case of maternal chastisement. Instantly, Talia’s shoulders sagged. Her gaze swung to the floor. Drake and I exchanged a tight look, filled with the same conclusion. This was something we’d never seen from our forthright, confident Tolly before. Only years’ worth of proper training could’ve done it. As in, a whole life’s worth.

“Mama, these are my colleagues, Mr. Drake Newland and Mr. Fletcher Ford.” She waved her hand toward each of us during the formality, seeming to appease her mother while making herself five times more uncomfortable. As she spoke, several more women converged on the spot where we stood, curiosity painted across their faces.

Talia rolled her eyes and continued with the introductions. Sisters, sisters-in-law, a few aunts, even her grandmother. By the time she was through, I was hoping we wouldn’t be tested on any name recalls—especially because so many of them sounded the same. Silver lining? Talia’s accent, so fucking sexy as she pronounced each one, made my slacks tight again. I’d have to keep that new discovery in mind for when Drake and I next got her alone.

“So, these are the men from your work? And from the hotel room in Las Vegas?”

I was tempted to swallow my tongue. Was damn sure Drake had already slam-dunked his. Still, he managed a damn impressive poker face as Mrs. Perizkova stared expectantly at us—not a feat I could come close to touching—while Talia stammered to answer. Her eyes had widened with the force of a new expression, though whether it was embarrassment or frustration, I couldn’t be sure.

“Mama!” she finally blurted. “I explained that to you how many times now?”

“Don’t be sassy with me, young lady.” It was clear where Talia had learned her ability for fierce glares. “You aren’t too old to be taken over my knee.”

My dick rose to full attention. Not one bit appropriate given the time, the place or the company, but the thought of that perfectly shaped ass bent over for a few swats? Jesus Christ.