The Better Man (Allen Brothers Series Book 2) by Barbie Bohrman

Author:Barbie Bohrman [Bohrman, Barbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BBohrmanBooks
Published: 2017-08-21T07:00:00+00:00

“Excuse me, but aren’t you the Max Allen?”

I had heard that question so many times from women up and down New York City and, quite honestly, it never got old. For instance, hearing it right now from the cute-as-a-button blonde who I dubbed “Pixie,” because her hair was cut shorter than mine.

“Yes, that would be me.”

Normally, I might ask for a name, but I could not give a flying fuck what her name was. I was still in a bit of a weird mood from my day today…specifically my day with Daphne. So all I was trying to do was get Pixie to fulfill my drink order before my brother Trevor arrived. He had texted me a little while ago asking if I wanted to meet up for an early happy hour. I could not have said yes any faster if I tried. Actually, now that I think of it, Trevor was kind dodgy about the reason he wanted to meet since it wasn’t like him to ask me to hang out. It was always the other way around.

The bartender, AKA Pixie still wasn’t moving to get my drinks. Instead, she leaned into the bar and rested her chin on her elbow. Batting her eyelashes, she said, “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same here.”

I did my best to smile. Even that was a chore. Because she kept on staring at me like was I the goose that had laid the golden egg. And I guess to her, I was exactly that.

“Do you think you could make my drinks, miss?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. And please, call me Gwen.”

Her name could have been Amanda Huginkiss and I wouldn’t care or remember. Because to me, she would forever be known as Pixie. I’d had a habit of doing that with women for as long as I can remember. Not to be a total douche, but for someone like me, it got incredibly confusing and tiresome to remember who was who. So, I’d give anyone completely inconsequential to my life a nickname that would stick.

Pixie finally put our beers on the bar just as Trevor slapped me on the back hard. “What’s up, loser. How’s it going?”

“Same shit, different day. How about you?”

“Good, good. Can’t complain.”

We clinked glasses and both took a good long drink of our beers. “Is this a Summer Ale? Already?” Trevor asked.

“Trev, I’m sure you don’t give a damn whether it’s Oktoberfest or Summer Ale. So cut the small talk and get to the point.”

“Damn, someone’s in a bad mood,” he told me. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” I said. “Just having a bad day, I guess. Doesn’t matter.”

“All righty then. That took a turn,” he mumbled under his breath before taking another drink of his beer. “Should I even ask how the show and the new co-host thing is going?”

“It’s going.”

“That bad?” he asked. “Me and Vern watched the last episode and it seemed less—”

“Less what, exactly?”

“Relax,” Trevor said through a chuckle.

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