The dim, golden glow of the bar buzzes with chatter and laughter, a comfortable hum that fills the air. I’m leaning against the counter, a whiskey in one hand and a smirk in place that I know could melt hearts across the room. The place is alive, but I’ve tuned most of it out, my sharp eye scanning for someone interesting, something to keep me entertained. Life’s more fun when you don’t take it too seriously, right?

Then I see her.

She’s sitting at a table, her body language just a little out of place, like she’s here but not really.

She’s here with her mom, of all people. I can’t help but chuckle softly into my drink.

“Here we go,” I rake a hand through my hair, letting it fall just perfectly out of place, and begin to walk over.

But then, out of nowhere, a firm hand clamps down on my shoulder, stopping me mid-stride.

“Don’t even think about it.” My brother’s voice is low, controlled, but there’s that edge to it.

I turn to face him, smirking “Relax. I’m just saying hi.”

He doesn’t buy it for a second. His gaze flickers toward her, then back to me, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Leave her alone, Chase. She’s not your type, and you’ll only make a mess.”

I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“No.” His answer is immediate, blunt, and he doesn’t even flinch. “Especially not with girls like her. She’s naive, probably doesn’t even know what you’re about. So do everyone a favor and sit this one out.”

For a moment, I just stand there, the smirk still lingering but not quite reaching my eyes. He’s right. I know it, and he knows it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate hearing it.

“Fine,” I say finally, throwing up my hands in mock surrender. “I’ll let this one go. For now.”

I glance back at her one last time, and there’s this flicker of something—curiosity, maybe, or frustration. But I shake it off, returning to the bar and picking up my drink. There’s always next time.