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9
Archer
Sweat drips off my face and falls to the floor as I swing a sledgehammer. Davis and I closed on a new property just last week. I’ve been itching to get in here and start ripping apart all of the shitty upgrades that have been done to the place over the years. It’s a red brick, colonial style, row house that we’re updating to have storefront space on the main level, and apartments on the two floors above. At some point, linoleum was laid over the original hardwood. Flowery eighties wallpaper adorns many of the rooms, and someone added extra walls to a space that was already fairly compartmentalized.
Beyond knocking down the added walls, we’re taking down most of the others on the main floor to allow for retail space. Davis and I both enjoy this part of the process. Ripping into old, worn down, neglected houses. Taking them down to the bones so that we can build them back up into something beautiful and functional once again.
Today I needed the extra physical exertion to keep my mind from wandering back to where it’s always at these days. Lena. The way she bent to my will, the sight of her open for me, vulnerable, and yet completely trusting. The taste of her on my tongue, and the tremble of her body.
Fuck.
I slam the hammer into plaster that cracks and crumbles after one solid hit. I pull back and take another swing when someone starts talking.
“You must be really pissed at that wall.”
I startle at the sound. Spinning around, I find a stranger standing near the front door. He’s leaning casually against the wall, watching me. I have no idea who he is, but he looks like a cocky son of a bitch. He’s close to my age, as far as I can tell. His sandy brown hair is swept off to the side. He’s tall, but slightly thinner than me. I could definitely take him in a fight.
Why I’m mentally bracing for a fight, I have no idea. I let the sledgehammer slide through my fingers until the head hits the floor. Pulling down the bandana covering my nose and mouth, I swipe my forehead with the sleeve of my t-shirt.
“Hey, you lost?” I’m not usually this abrupt, or a dick to total strangers, but this guy’s caught me on a bad day. All I want is to work myself to the point of exhaustion so my brain can stop thinking, and my body will stop craving what it shouldn’t want. Plus, there’s something about this guy that’s irritating me. His slick smile? The general air of superiority that floats around him like a cloud of cheap cologne. Who knows?
“I’m not sure. Are you Archer Warren?” He looks me up and down as if he doesn’t believe that’s who I am.
“I’m Archer. What do you need?”
“You’re not what I expected. Everyone talks about the island’s sweet golden boy. You look more like a…” His lips purse as he stares at the tattoos covering my arms. At least what’s visible with my t-shirt on. He can’t see the rest of the ink that decorates my body.
“Why are you talking to everyone on the island about me?”
“How rude of me. I haven’t even introduced myself, have I? I’m Colton Zima. I just moved to town, and I was told you were the man to see about finding a permanent address.”
He doesn’t move forward to extend a hand, and I don’t either. Besides the fact that I’m covered in sweat and plaster, I really don’t want to go anywhere near the guy. There’s no reason for him to be setting off any flags for me, but there’s something epically punchable about his face.
There are good things and bad about living on a small island. Everyone knows just about everyone, although we get a lot of tourists coming in on the weekends. Your neighbors also know a lot of your business, but that is something I typically enjoy. Well, at least I enjoy knowing other people’s business. Them knowing mine, not so much.
The other thing about small town living; there’re not a lot of options when you’re looking for a specific skill or trade. Peggy DeLande has her real estate license, but she’s mainly retired and doesn’t do much unless a friend asks. Others go the route of selling without a realtor, but when that fails, their only other option in town is me. It’s not unusual for someone on the island to refer people to me if they are looking to buy or rent property, but for some reason, I’m annoyed that this guy came looking for me.
“Are you looking to rent?” I really hope so.
“While I’m hoping to move on at some point, until I do, this is the perfect place to settle. It’s magical here, don’t you think?”
“You want to rent then? If you’ll be moving on at some point.”
“I’m not picky if there’s the right fit. I’d like something with character. Really immerse myself in island life. It does need to have space. I’m not one of those people who likes their neighbors on top of them. So, I think a house would be best. Maybe something just a bit out of town.”
“Properties don’t often come up for sale on the island. Many of them stay within families and are passed down, but there might be a few. I can take a look to see what’s available if you want to stop by my office tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. I look forward to working with you, Archer.” His smile is too bright as he looks at me. I don’t think he’s hitting on me. It wouldn’t be the first time, but that’s not the vibe I’m getting here. Still, there’s something off-putting about the way he’s grinning at me.
“That’s some intense ink you’ve got. Is there a local tattoo place that does that kind of work around here?”
I don’t like to talk about my tattoos. Despite the fact that they are on the outside of my body and people can look, I didn’t get them for anyone but me. They’re none of his fucking business.
“No one around here. Sorry.”
“You’ll have to pass along your guy’s name. He’s talented.”
“I’ll have to run it by him first. He doesn’t take on new clients.” Ezra would die laughing if he knew I was having this conversation right now. He’s the one who's done all of my tattoos. He doesn’t have a license, and the only people he’s ever given tattoos to are me, Rhys, Davis, and himself. Although the ones he’s put on himself aren’t his best work. Unsurprisingly.
“Well then, I guess I’ll leave you to it.” Colton dips his head and turns around, leaving me with an unsettled feeling. The urge to smash more walls is stronger than ever. I’ll be keeping my eye on that little fuck.
