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“Uh…” I look up into those deep brown eyes, then let my gaze wander over his thick eyebrows, straight nose, and angled cheekbones. The stubble on his chin and chiseled jawline is new, and I must say, I like it.
I feel his touch everywhere, an electric current buzzing from the top of my head, down my spine, and landing between my thighs. What is wrong with me? This man has been the bane of my existence for the last week!
“Everything okay?” Blakely asks, jarring me out of this moment.
“Yes. Yeah. Yep,” I stutter out, a blush burning my cheeks as I lift my eyes up to meet Archer’s once more. There’s a softer look to his normally stern manner. “I’ll call you back in a bit,” I tell my friend before hanging up. I realize that was a little rude, but I’m having a hard time controlling my body, let alone my words.
Archer’s brows furrow and his brown irises shine with what looks like concern. For me? I’ve been nothing but a nuisance to him, much like he’s been to me, albeit for different reasons.
“You’re sad,” he states matter-of-factly, his eyes roaming over my face and studying my every reaction.
“Huh?” I say stupidly, apparently unable to form complete thoughts or words.
“Your fire is gone,” Archer whispers, though it’s so quiet I’m not sure if he meant to say it out loud.
I blink a few times, breaking whatever intense spell he had me under. Clearing my throat, I take a step back, though I shiver once I’m not pressed up against him. Archer makes me feel… vulnerable in a way I’m not used to; a way I’m not sure I appreciate.
I've worked my ass off to get to where I am today, and I've avoided relationships and other such complications along the way. It's not a sacrifice, it's simply what I needed to do to achieve my goals. One look into Archer's all-too-perceptive eyes, and I know he could destroy me completely.
Which is why I need to back away. Far away. Well, as far away as I can from someone who works on the other side of the wall from me.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Archer in what I hope is a cheery but professional voice. I need to get some space between us, both physically and emotionally. God, I’m a wreck. How can one look, one statement, one touch unravel me so completely?
“It’s okay,” he replies slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Why are you sad?”
Ugh, why won’t he drop it? I’m sad because my best friend is in a horrible living situation, but she’s unable to escape at the moment. I’m hoping she’ll find enough strength and confidence to realize her worth and leave her family before they do more damage than they’ve already done. I can’t tell that to Archer, though. It feels too personal. Too real.
“I’m sad because I have another morning of dealing with saws and hammers and some rather colorful language from some loud and obnoxious construction workers,” I sass, giving him a little smirk.
Over the last week, I’ve made several attempts at making peace, followed by several attempts to pause the construction for a few hours. I’d say my most ingenious idea was when I put a sign on the back door where all the workers come and go for the day, saying everyone had the day off due to an electrical surge that took out the whole strip mall the night before. Two of the guys fell for it while the other two went ahead and walked in, just to make sure.
Archer still has a lingering look of worry, but he tries to return my smile. "Uh-huh," he scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. I can't stop myself from staring at his strong forearms, rippling with muscles and decorated with black ink. "Well, I gave the guys the morning off. For real this time," he informs me, narrowing his eyes in my direction. I'm sure he's remembering my brilliant sign idea as well.
“What a great idea,” I tell him, tilting my chin up and giving him a big smile. “I bet someone smart and amazing inspired you to do the right thing.”
The corner of his lip twitches, and I can tell he’s trying to hide his grin. I won’t lie, I’ve gotten used to our little back-and-forths. Bantering and teasing each other is one thing, but sharing actual life stuff is a whole different level. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that.
But it’s not like I have anything to worry about with Archer. There’s no way someone as devastatingly handsome, rugged, and sculpted would be interested in a plus-sized, plain Jane like me. Not to mention the age gap. I’m getting way ahead of myself here, all worked up when there’s not even a slight possibility any of this is going to matter.
Archer takes a few steps back, putting more distance between us. It’s what I wanted, yet I hate every inch. “Well, enjoy your peaceful morning,” he says, combing his fingers through his short, dark hair. “I’ll be next door if you need anything.”
I tilt my head to the side, giving him a questioning look. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Archer is trying to be nice. To me. On purpose.
He gives me a nod and then steps inside the shop he’s working on, leaving me to unlock my own shop door and get to work for the day.
Several hours later, I've made my way through two bulk orders, as well as a lovely and tasteful funeral wreath. Those always take a bit of an emotional toll on me, just knowing the gravity of the situation. I want to place each flower with care, ensuring a stunning final product that appropriately honors the occasion.
I stretch my arms up over my head, then roll out my shoulders as I stand up from my hunched-over position. My spine pops in a satisfying way the more I stretch and uncurl my limbs.
Looking at my phone, I see it's nearly noon. I should take a quick lunch break and give Blakely a call back. I don't like the way we ended things. I don't want to be a bummer of a friend, I just want her to be happy, safe, and healthy. Blakely can't be any of those things as long as she's living with her aunt and uncle.
I untie my apron and hang it up on the hook next to the counter before going in the back and washing my hands. Only, the stupid sink is doing that thing again where it makes a gurgling noise and then spits water out in tiny bursts.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Just what I want to deal with right now.”
I open the cabinet doors below the sink so I can get a good look at the plumbing. Not that I know what I’m looking at or how to fix it even if I did. Sure, the pipes are a little rusty, and there’s a loose hose, but the issue has to be something more than that. Especially if it’s coming back.
The last time this happened, I had some money left over from the business loan I took out on the shop. I don't remember what the total was, but since it clearly wasn't fixed the first time, I wonder if the same company will come back out and take another look at it for free.
