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Miri
Signing the paperwork only takes a few minutes once we get back to Archer’s office, and I almost feel robbed of a big to-do. Like there should be more fanfare for starting this new chapter of my life. When I toss down the pen and lean back in my chair, Archer dazzles me with his bright smile as if he can sense my thoughts.
“I know you just got into town today, but I’d be remiss in my duties as your real estate agent if I didn’t invite you out for a celebratory drink. This is a big deal. You should mark the occasion with a toast at the very least.”
I consider if Archer is asking me out for a drink in a professional capacity or for other, less innocent reasons. For years, my dreams have been haunted by one man, who has no right to have messed up my head so badly. Davis and I barely spent a day together, said fewer than a hundred words to one another. And yet, he’s the man that my mind has spun a thousand fantasies about. I know I’ve created a made-up version of him in my mind, because I didn’t have enough time to get to know him. Still, the way my skin burned and tingled at his touch has become the benchmark for any other man I’ve met since him.
One that no one has ever come close to meeting.
Archer’s warm presence has me feeling strangely calm and comfortable, like a cat curled up in front of a fire. His cheery, laid-back attitude has me relaxing and I realize that, yeah, I do want to go get a drink with him. Plus, it would probably be good for me. I’m a stranger to Wild Haven and while no one would call me a social butterfly even on a good day, it doesn’t mean that I don’t occasionally like to interact with other human beings. I know no one here. Besides, what will one little drink hurt?
A joyful grin breaks out over my face as I think about what happened today. I have my own home. For the first time in, well, forever, I have a permanent place that belongs to me. My mom and I moved around so often nothing ever felt like the right place. It was just a spot to exist in for that moment. Dani’s house was as much of a home as it could be. She taught me, took care of me and watched out for me, but it was never mine, as much as Dani would hate to hear me say that. In college, there was just another series of dorms and apartments. Ever since I’ve set foot on this island, though, the rightness of being here keeps slapping me in the face. As if I need a constant reminder that this is where I belong.
“Yeah. Let’s get a drink. This definitely calls for a celebration.” I nod at Archer, bouncing out of my seat in excitement.
I’m not saying Archer and I are going to be BFFs, but I sense a fellowship with him that makes me think we could be friends. I wasn’t a social leper before, but I’ve put up walls over the years. What’s the point of making friends when you cut ties so often?
Archer flashes me a megawatt smile as he plucks my coat from the back of my chair, holding it out for me. It’s barely the middle of winter and even though the sun is shining today, it’s far too cold to wander around town without bundling up. Although I’m going to need to invest in a warmer coat. My leather jacket is made for style over substance.
“Paul’s is just down the street if you don’t mind walking.” It’s either walking, riding a bike or some sort of ATV or a golf cart. I’ve seen all of those modes of transportation so far today. The island doesn’t allow cars, so residents have to be clever with how they get around. Most places are within twenty minutes walking distance, although some houses are further out. The place I’m staying until I can get into the house has bikes for guests to borrow, and I used one of them to ride up to the house earlier.
Archer leads us out of the office, not bothering to lock up behind him, even though there’s no one else inside. Small towns, I guess. I walk by Archer’s side, cocking my head, not sure I heard him correctly before. He waves to someone across the street and nods his head at another person in greeting.
“Paul’s? Are we going to someone’s house?” I definitely didn’t agree to that. Archer might be hot, but that doesn’t mean I need to be the next panel on his human flesh suit because I’m dumb enough to jump into his metaphorical white van.
Archer barks out a laugh, and I frown at him. “Oh man, your face. No. Paul’s not my serial killer partner. It’s Paul’s tavern. Look, it’s right there.” He points at a faded back-lit sign that does indeed say Paul’s Tavern and a sliver of a grin tips up my lips. This dude is good at reading people.
“A girl can never be too careful.”
“You’re a Wild Haven resident now, Miri. Be prepared for someone to say bless you a day after you sneeze. For better or worse, this is a small island and people love to gossip. You’ll be the biggest news since Lorelai Sisily got a nose job.” Archer’s walking sideways so he can look at me, and I swear he’s practically skipping. Man, this guy is a bright ball of sunshine. Normally I’d find it off-putting, but there’s something so genuine about him that I can’t help but feel my mood lift.
Some of my good humor dims as I think about a bunch of nosey people in my business, but Archer shakes his head at me and grins. “It’s not all bad, though. Mrs. Grimstock makes pies for you when you’re sick, and if anyone ever needs help, half the town will show up on their front lawn asking what they can do.”
I hum noncommittally. I’ll refrain from judging just yet. Sounds like a whole lot of people all up in my shit.
Holding the door to Paul’s Tavern open, Archer waves me in and I step into the muted light of the pub. It’s narrow with a bar that runs along the entire right side of the room and booths that line the left. There are a few long tables in the middle and a row of stools tucked under the bar. There’s not much room for anything else. The back of the bar has sliding glass doors that open onto a deck that sits right over the ocean. There are Edison bulbs strung across the outdoor seating, although they’re not on right now. It’s late afternoon and the sun is setting but still shining.
The bar top is a dark polished wood that shines with lacquer, while mirrors run above the back counter, only broken up by shelves filled with bottles of liquor. It’s less dingy than the name implies, and it has a certain casual vibe that I immediately appreciate.
The bar’s mostly empty, which makes sense because it’s barely 5:00 on a weekday, but there are a few patrons who look like they spend more time in here than they should. A man behind the bar spots us and calls out to Archer, who lifts a hand in greeting.
Holy shit, this town is not that big. How can there be another hot as hell man who lives here? The bartender is the type of guy that crooks a finger and ladies come running. He has coal black hair, twinkling, mischievous eyes, and a devilish grin on his face. He’s drying glasses and if I wasn’t lacking the ability to be attracted to men who weren’t complete dicks—the same kind that hardly spoke but still tangled up all my feelings after one day together—then I might be impressed with how good he makes cleaning look.
Archer smirks at me, totally catching me checking out the bartender. I roll my eyes and push his shoulder, making him laugh. “Let’s go meet my friend. He owns the bar.”
“Is he Paul?” I ask under my breath, but apparently not so low that Archer’s friend doesn’t hear me.
“Naw. Paul owned the bar before me.” Not Paul flashes me a dazzling smile that, guaranteed, has slayed many a lady.
He leans forward over the bar, stretching out his hand to shake mine. Everyone is so friendly here. The thought that I’ve moved to a weird cult town flits through my mind for a few seconds. Or maybe people are just nice here. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that only emphasizes his physique. The bicep and forearm extending toward me flexes with impressive muscle and is littered with ink. There’s a really well-done tattoo in the traditional style of a woman with a flower in her hair and a moon behind her.
“I’m Rhys. You’ll be Miri Wilds then?”
I shake his hand with narrowed eyes, turning to look at Archer as I lift a brow. “Is this that gossip thing you were telling me about?”
“Oh, was Archie telling you how much he loves to gossip?” Rhys chuckles as his eyes crinkle in the corners. There’s an obvious camaraderie between the two and it’s pretty clear they’re old friends.
“Piss off, Rhys,” Archer says, but he’s laughing as he pulls out a barstool and takes a seat, pulling out the stool next to him for me to sit on.
