I shake my head once, brushing it off. Don’t know what that was about. Don’t care.

I’ve got bigger things to focus on tonight.

Magnolia’s scrolling through her phone when I return to the table, glancing up as I slide onto the stool beside her.

“Everything okay?”

“All good.” I lift my drink, taking a slow sip.

“You were gone a while.”

I debate telling her about the woman—and then decide it might be fun to see her reaction.

“It’s nothing. Just some woman trying to hit on me. Wouldn’t take the hint.”

Magnolia’s brows arch. “Oh?”

“Happens all the time.”

She grins. “Does it now?”

I shrug. “This one was a ‘love your accent’ type.”

She props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “I seem to recall being one of those ‘love your accent’ types.”

I tip my glass toward her. “Yeah, but it was different coming from you.”

She hums like she’s giving it serious thought. “Right. Because I was classy about it?”

I arch a brow. “You told me my accent made you want to climb me like a tree.”

Her grin is wicked, unapologetic. “I don’t remember saying that, but I do like to climb you like a tree, so––”

I huff a quiet laugh and take a sip of my drink. “Where’s your girl?”

“Right here,” says a voice behind me.

That voice.

Dread slithers up my spine before I even see her face.

The woman from the hallway slides onto the stool across from me, a smug grin playing on her mouth.

Magnolia, oblivious, beams. “Vi, this is Alex.”

Vi.

As in Violet.

As in Magnolia’s best friend.

As in the one person whose opinion matters.

I don’t move. Don’t blink. My mind rewinds, in perfect clarity, every second of that hallway encounter.

She set me up.

She fucking set me up.

She watches me like a cat who just trapped a particularly interesting mouse.

“Violet and I already met.”

One thing is clear—Violet is going to make me work for her approval.

Magnolia looks between us. “You’ve already met?”

Violet’s smirk sharpens. “Oh, you know. Just a little pregame warm-up.”

She leans forward, resting one elbow on the bar. “Had to see for myself what we were working with before we got to this part.”

Magnolia’s eyes narrow, suspicion sharpening her features. “Violet… what did you do?”

She taps a manicured nail against the bar, slow and deliberate. “Just ran a quick loyalty check.”

Her gaze cuts to me. “He was about as tempted as a vegan at a barbecue competition.”

Violet lifts the drink I ordered for her and takes a slow sip. “I may have run into him outside the restroom. Recognized him. Pretended to be a random woman trying to pick him up.”

Magnolia makes a choking sound. “You did what?”