London Falling (Falling #2)(47)

Just focus on this weekend. A few more days and she’d be by my side, all around me. I couldn’t wait. I decided one last text was in order.

To: London Kelley

From: Collier Stone

I always keep my promises, Beauty. Always. Friday night. 6:00 p.m.





Chapter - 12





Tonight was the night. I’d spent all week staying exceptionally busy. It had been easy. Tripp was clingy and Dylan was barely speaking to me. Even though I’d made it clear to my client that our personal relationship wasn’t happening under the sheets anymore, he had taken offense.

We had the discussion last week about not having a physical relationship and he didn’t understand. He felt as if he’d done something wrong. I could have told him that I’d met someone else and that someone else didn’t take too kindly to sharing, but frankly it wasn’t his business.

And telling him would kill all the progress Dylan had made in learning to let loose, and be freer with his feelings. I’d simply told him I was no longer interested in a physical relationship and would not have sex with him. He spent a full week ignoring me, making it incredibly uncomfortable to share a living space. Several times, I thought about just staying home. Unfortunately Tripp’s clingy behavior put a kibosh on that. He needed time to work through his own issues about my…whatever this was…with Collier.

“Check this out!” I laid a flyer for a new club opening up in front of Dylan.

“Looks fun. Do you want to go?” Dylan eyes shone with a new happiness. I hadn’t seen it in the better part of two weeks.

I shook my head. “Nope. This is the part about changing your life. You need to call some buddies, take these tickets--” I laid four VIP passes next to the flyer. “--dress up. I’ll pick what you wear. And go to this club. Your next task is to troll for women…alone. Without me. I’ll be leaving for the weekend. When I come back, I want to see at least a handful of phone numbers of the women you picked up.”

“London, I don’t know. I feel a little better about hitting on a woman, but several? I’m not sure I can.” He shrugged and wiped a hand over his face.

Rolling my eyes, I plopped into the kitchen chair next to him and placed my hand over his. “Dylan, you are a good-looking guy. You’re nice. You’re secure financially. And you respect women. There’s no reason you can’t go to a club and pick up several women. Start building your own list of hotties, if you will. The goal is to change your life, not just your home. You can do this. I believe in you.”

Dylan picked up the tickets and spread them out like a wad of cash. “You think so, eh?”

“I do. It’s what you need. What friends can you invite?”

“My brother and maybe one other guy would be interested. I’ve spent the better part of the last few years building my career and working my ass off, not keeping in touch with old friends or making new ones.” He seemed a bit sad to admit his lack of friends. That needed to change.

“That’s why it’s time for a change. You need to enjoy everything you’ve put into your life so far. Part of that is being young. Partying a little, hanging out with other guys, having hot no-strings sex with several women. Maybe along the line you’ll find one you want to spend more time on. Let go a little. This is your last weekend before the renovation. Have you booked your hotel?”

“Nah. I’ll stay with my brother and his girlfriend. He thinks we need more time to get to know each other as adults.”

I smacked his bicep. “Exactly! He’s right. But don’t let him bring his girlfriend out. She’ll deter other women. He can be your wing man.” Then a great idea hit me hard. It was perfect. A win-win if I did say so myself. I would help my client and my best friend. “Hold up, I need to make a call.”

Dylan handed me the house phone and I dialed home. Tripp answered after a couple rings.

“Hey Bridge. What’s cookin’, hot stuff?”

God, I loved him. “I need a favor.”

“Anything for you.”

My smile must have been infectious. Dylan watched me intently, a big smile of his own plastered across his scruffy face. “This Friday, I need you to meet up with my client Dylan and check out that new club, Roxy’s.”

“Roxy’s?” Tripp paused. “That’s right. You did the redesign of that for Roxanne Thibodaux when she took over that building.”

“Yup, and it’s incredible inside. But what I need is help from you with Dylan. He needs to learn the art of picking up women…lots of women. Can you do that?” I grinned and winked at Dylan.

His face had turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Does Oprah have more money than God?” Tripp snorted into the line.

“Excellent. I’ll owe you one. Hey, we’re meeting up for lunch with Pen and Oliver right?”

“Yeah, Oliver texted that we’re set for one at The Place. We need to go over some wedding shit. We leave in two weeks, which means you’re going to have to do the renovation in a little over a week, then have the reveal on Friday. We fly out Saturday with your family.”

“Okay, yeah. We’ll talk later. See you at lunch.”

My shoulders slumped. Being pulled in so many directions was exhausting. Aspen’s wedding was less than three weeks away. I needed Dylan out of his funk and back on schedule, which Tripp would help with, thankfully.