ROMANCE: Mason (Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Boxset) (New Adult Contemporary Stepbrother Romance Collection) (289 page)

Just like the dance floor, the bar is packed. When we finally wade our way through all the chatting people and reach the counter, it looks like it’s going to take at least five minutes for the bartender to even look up and notice us with all of his frantic mixing to acquiesce to all of the loud and seemingly convoluted orders.

I take the time to peruse the menu. Each drink is unnecessarily complex and the names of the drinks are either even more so or just plain ridiculous. And the prices! I understand that the price of alcohol, at least high-quality alcohol, may increase over time but, from the looks of what the bartender was working with on the shelves, the liquor here was hardly high quality enough to warrant such astronomical prices.

“I hear the drinks here are all fabulous,” Margie gushes next to me; apparently she’s finally gotten over her annoyance.

“Aren’t they a bit expensive?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Hardly; this is normal, and I hear it’s worth it anyways. Besides, you only order one so it’s not like you have to ring up a large bill.”

“What about everyone on the dance floor; they look like they’ve had quite a few,” I say skeptically.

She chuckled, “That’s just from the pregame, don’t worry.”

I raise an eyebrow; I wasn’t aware that there was any game going on tonight, let alone a ‘pre’ one. But, considering the exasperated look Margie is already giving me, it’s better not to ask I suppose.

Finally, the bartender makes his way over to us, looking just as tired as I feel for a moment before he flashes a flirtatious smile at Margie, who makes a look at me under her lashes to check if I’m jealous. I shrug. If Margie wants a reaction out of me this early in the date, she’s out of luck.

She huffs, grinning a thousand-watt smile at the bartender before she asks what the woman to our right is having.

“A flamingo’s cotton candy,” the man says, winking, “excellent choice.”

She can’t be serious. The drink in the woman’s hand looks like Pepto-Bismol. It’s a thick, cloudy mixture in a martini glass that’s severely pink. I cautiously check the menu, hoping not to arouse any more of her annoyance.

I take a deep breath; twenty dollars for a drink! I just got paid this week but still; maybe I’ll hold off on the liquid courage for the night.

“Anything for you?” the bartender asks.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

“Which one?”

“Whatever’s on tap,” I mutter, “and cheapest.”

Margie looks pleased; I have no idea why, but I lean against the counter waiting for the likely overpriced and overrated drink.

“So,” Margie begins, running a hand up my arm, “I hear that older men still have good stamina, is that true?”

I feel myself blushing at the clearly solicitous flirtation but try to calm down. “I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” I say, attempting to sound cocky but honestly relieved when the bartender came back over and handed us our drinks.

Margie seemed to enjoy heir's, but mine was mediocre-, just as I’d thought.

“How do you like this place?” I ask, still a bit awkward at making small talk.

“I like it,” Marge says, “it’s great, I can’t wait to get on the dance floor. How about you?”

“Totally.” Is totally even hip anymore?

Margie downs the drink, signaling the bartender to bring over another one, much to the pain of my wallet, and looks to me with a twinkle in her eyes. “Just so you know, I get wild when I drink, so we’re going to have a hell of a time.”

I laugh; I have no clue what to say to that. Dear God what have I gotten myself into?

-x-x-x-

Apparently, Mark could really talk. And talk. And talk some more. Fifteen minutes after we’ve got our drinks I still haven’t got a word in. I had been nervous so I decided to make small talk, but when I asked what his hobbies were, I had no idea that they were himself.

He’s still prattling on about how often he visits the gym and the strictly chicken and rice diet he had to go on when he wrestled in high school. That at least explained his excellent physique, but I wish he’d put half as much effort into his personality as he put into his body. I wasn’t getting old by any means, but it was only nine and I was ready to call it a night.

Perhaps I could give the excuse that I was on my period; that was a sure way to turn a guy off. And, if I’m honest with myself, he’s clearly only at this to get the bragging rights of having seduced a ‘cougar’. I chuckled to myself, just a bit bitterly. From how old he apparently thought I was, he’ll probably think I’m already experiencing menopause, meaning my cycle excuse will go out the window.

I nod as he gives another fact about himself, flexing his arms for some reason. Maybe he wanted to add effect? God, how low have I actually stooped? I don’t remember dating before Mason and I married being nearly this discouraging.

I look around, hoping to find something that could possibly salvage this date or make it a little less depressing, only to come up with nothing. I reluctantly look back at Mark but notice something behind his head. It’s just the back of someone’s head, but it looks oddly familiar. It’s extremely disheveled brunette hair on a relatively tall man. My eyes trail down to his back, which is impressively broad and covered by a nice looking leather jacket. A leather jacket that looked very familiar. . .

“Mason?” I yell, surprised. I wince; I had meant to keep that inside, and Mark looked fairly disgruntled by my ignoring of whatever topic about him he was rambling on about now.

Apparently I could still hit rock-bottom because Mason apparently heard me over the obnoxiously loud and inordinately bad music. He turned, scanning the bar until he finally spotted me, eyes widening in surprise. I waved sheepishly, Mark turning around to check what could have possibly distracted me from someone as wonderful as him.

Mason suddenly turns, saying something to someone beside him who I couldn’t quite see due to the other patrons at the bar blocking them. To my chagrin, he put down his drink, what looked to be the same disgusting beer that I was drinking, and started to come over, bringing someone in his wake.

Oh God, he was on a date too. I finally get a good look at the girl he’s with and laugh. She’s got to be half his age! She sure as hell is much younger than I am. And her dress! It may as well be a swath of fabric; it covers her midsection and not much else. I can see through the fabric covering her chest, not that it matters much with how low the neckline is. And if she bends down in that washcloth she’ll give the whole club a sight to see.

“Who is that?” Mark asks a bit awestruck, clearly looking at Mason’s date.

The pair come to stop before us, the woman smiling pleasantly with Mason just standing there rather awkwardly.

“Dianne,” he says, his voice trailing off as he looked me over, apparently liking what he saw if his pleased staring was anything to go by. “What a surprise; what are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” I say, looping my arm in Mark’s and very pointedly showing him off. “This is Mark; he’s great.” Mason nods, looking a bit disgruntled with how amazing Mark looks before he clears his throat.

“Well, I guess this is a good night for dates because I’m on one as well. This is Margie; she’s lovely.”

Margie purred at the compliment, waving at me and giving me a once-over before turning to Mark, her eyes raking over him hungrily. From Mark’s smirk, and reciprocal look at Margie, I guess he doesn’t mind.

“How do you two know each other?” Margie asks, looking at Mason.

I laugh, this was going to be good.

“Dianne’s my ex.”

“Girlfriend?” Margie asks, not comprehending.

“Wife,” I clarify, giving Margie a strained smile as her eyes widen. “Mason and I were married for quite a time.”

“Oh, well,” Margie says, surprised. “I guess you’re a bit older than I thought.”

I chuckle, taking a sip of the bitter beer before setting it back down in disgust. At least it wasn’t just me, apparently Mason was getting branded as ‘old’ too.

“What are the chances,” Mark says, eyes still fixed on Margie. Or her cleavage to be specific.

“Astronomical,” Mason mutters, clearly as astounded as I was.

“Well,” Mark says, clapping, eyes locking on Margie before finally looking back at Mason and I, “we shouldn’t let this wonderful coincidence go to waste. Why don’t we all get a table together?”

I open my mouth to tell Mark just how bad of an idea that is but Margie cuts me off.

“Sounds great! Let’s go!”

Mason shoots me a desperate glance and I share his concern, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Margie was already dragging Mason away and Mark was hot on their trail. I took my beer with me, I’d need a drink, and followed behind the three.

Margie leads us over to a booth on the side; Mason and Margie sitting across from Mark and I. The table is fairly small and the booth’s seats are close together, meaning that our legs will have to touch. On the plus side, I was pretty sure I was getting close to rock-bottom with how disastrous this date was going, so there was only a chance that it could get better.

-x-x-x-

The night was not going at all how I was expecting. I had planned on taking Margie out, drinking a little, perhaps dancing a bit, and, call me old fashioned, but getting a good night kiss. It doesn’t look like any of that is going to happen.

As if luck was laughing at me, Dianne miraculously happens to be at this very club, the same night that I have my first date with Margie, and Dianne’s on a date of her own.

And what’s even more ridiculous, is that she looks amazing! I mean, I have never doubted that Dianne is an attractive woman, but this is ridiculous. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen her earlier, but she definitely stands out in this crowd.

All the women in this club are dressed in black, I guess it’s the classic ‘little black dress’ look, but it’s boring and if Margie hadn’t been standing next to me this whole time, I could have easily lost her in the homogenous mass. But not Dianne. She was wearing a bold and bright red dress, one that I have to admit hugs her in all the right places. Did her breasts get bigger? Her neckline was low, but not nearly as low as Margie’s, and yet, I have to say that Dianne looks more appealing. I took a sip of my drink; I’m obviously not feeling well if I’m lusting after my ex-wife.

I look at Margie. I can’t be thinking of Dianne right now, even if we are sitting at the same table by some unfortunate roll of the dice. Margie is a beautiful young woman. Who, up until the point we ran into Dianne and her brick of a date, seemed to be very much into me.

And yet, now her attention was off of me and fixed solely on an apparently equally enthralled Mark. Sure, he was good looking, I guess. But I hardly thought that Dianne was the type to be into that kind of guy. He was big and muscular sure, but he looked like he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the candelabra.

I glance at Dianne, wondering if she feels nearly as uncomfortable as I do right now. From the strained look on her face, I assume she does. We’re sitting directly across from one another but her eyes are looking anywhere but me. She keeps looking at Mark, but Mark doesn’t seem to notice.

I finally tune back into the conversation that Margie had started, only to realize that Mark was going on about how often he frequented the gym or something like that. Margie seems like she’s actually interested in this nonsense. Is this what women were into now?

I’m not feeling inferior by any means, but it’s a bit annoying. If I were in my wolf form my hackles would surely be raised in annoyance. Margie was my date and now some cocky, dunderheaded pretty boy was trying to take her from me. And what’s worse is this pretty boy is on a date with my wife who looks unfairly attractive tonight.

The wolf in me has an odd feeling. It’s some weird combination of pride and regret. My wolf was trying to get me to recognize that I had chosen well in a mate, and I had to admit that, from her looks, Dianne was an excellent mate. And yet, we were no longer mated. We’d broken it off much to my wolf’s bafflement and now I was being made to regret it.

“So, what do you do?” Margie asks Mark, ignoring Dianne and I.

Mark grins, “I’m an assistant for this manager guy, but I’m looking to be a personal trainer,” he says, flexing his arm for effect.

Margie giggles, reaching out to get a feel, much to Dianne’s annoyance.

“So, how long were you two planning on staying?” Dianne asks, sending me a pointed look. She was giving me a way out. Until Margie decided to ruin it.

“We could be here all night,” she grins, looking at me briefly before turning to Mark, “we’re having a blast. What about you?”

Mark doesn’t let Dianne answer, and she does that cute little wrinkling of her nose she’s always done when she’s annoyed when Mark speaks. “A while at least, this place is great.”

Dianne and I share a look. Apparently neither of our nights were going to go as planned.

-x-x-x-

I thought I’d hit rock-bottom, but boy was I wrong, and I was sinking further fast. Mark seems to have forgotten all about me in favor of looking at Mason’s Barbie doll of a date. Her hair was obviously dyed and not well at all. Her roots were three different colors from past dye jobs and it was not flattering.