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“I’msorry!” he said, loudly this time. He gripped both wheels tightly, although he didn’t move, and he looked up at Brielle with the most amazing puppy dog eyes. How such a hot guy could have little baby puppy dog eyes, she didn’t know.
“But I—” began Brielle.
“I was rude to you your first day.”
Brielle gripped her bucket handle with both hands and tapped the toe of her sock against the floor. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry.”
“You barely did…”
“I wasn’t even thinking; I just thought you might need help…”
They both stared at each other for a moment and then flicked their gazes to the floor at just about the exact same moment.
Archer coughed a little and Brielle looked back at him in time to see his Adam’s apple bob. “That type of thing can be a sensitive subject for people like me.”
Brielle shook her head brusquely. “I totally understand. I didn’t even think—”
“I know you meant well.” Archer did this odd thing where he rolled forward and back a little, just barely the space of a half a foot. “I put my braces on almost every day, though. So… I don’t need help, even if I might struggle.”
Brielle nodded. “Of course. And even if youdid, I should wait for you to ask for help before I just give it to you.”
Archer laughed and it made him look like a totally different person. Forget Beast, he was like a hunky Prince Charming. “Which I would have never done because I barely knew you.”
Brielle bit her lip. “Right. Understandable.”
“So… truce?” Archer stopped his wheelchair “pacing” and folded his hands over his lap. He was wearing a dark gray polo and what looked like black workout pants and Brielle suddenly wished she could see how tall he’d be beside her. Like that made any sense or made any difference. (She would date a shorter guy regardless.)
Brielle gently put the bucket down and extended her hand. “No truce necessary. Just… a fresh start.”
Archer’s lips moved just slightly, like he was fighting a huge grin. He took her hand in his. “That sounds even better. I’m Archer,” he said, finally letting that grin show.
“Brielle.” She shook his hand and leaned back slightly against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. The eagerness in his pale brown eyes was actually making her knees buckle.
Chapter Six
Archer hadn’t feltthis good in weeks. Months even. Maybe years, if he was being honest with himself.
Maybe ever?
Which was astonishingly stupid. There wasno reasonto be happy. His life hadn’t changed. Not really. He just was no longer not speaking to his cleaning lady. (House cleaner, he corrected himself.)
Like that was a great accomplishment. The fact that he was ever avoiding her to begin with was actually a depressing enough thought to sour his mood considerably.
He’d been mad at his cleaning lady. His cleaning lady, whom he’d known for about an hour at that point.
He really was pathetic. And not because he had a disability—he knew plenty of amazing people like him through the in-person and online support groups his mother used to make him join. No, the feebleness was all him.
His pace slowed considerably as he headed toward the park to meet up with Jayden and the guys. Jayden had gotten an earful from him when he’d called to explain Tuesday’s mix-up about avoiding contacting his mother untilafterhe’d confirmed seeing Archer on a stretcher and absolutely at no other point in time ever, even if he’d been abducted by aliens in the midst of a hook pass.
Brielle hadn’t spoken much when she’d come today. She’d just been… so much happier. She’d radiated happinessvacuuming.Emptying trash. Archer wished he could ever be so happy doing things that people typically considered soul-sucking grunt work, yet here she was… Content.
She hadn’t disturbed him at all, but he’d found himself unable to focus, upcoming deadline or not. He’d purposely had his back to her—although he’d fought against every instinct he had to slink away by at least greeting her and thanking her when she was finished—but he’d kept redrawing the same line over and over. It wasn’t just that it wasn’t good enough, it was that he couldn’t picture the scene properly in his head. Every time he’d tried to focus on the superpowered man with a plan (he didn’t write the comic, he just drew it—no one could blame him for that tag line), he’d kept picturing what she was doing based on the sounds alone. Putting dishes away was easy, only he hadn’t just pictured her putting dishes away, he’d pictured her standing on her tiptoes and stretching to reach the top of his cupboards, that too-tight shirt of hers riding up and flashing a spot of bare skin at her waist line. (Which was ridiculous since he knew only the things he almost never used were stored that high becaused’uh, he’d have a tough time reaching them, so she wasn’t putting anything away that high up.) Then there was scrubbing in the bathroom. She was on her hands and knees in his vision. A little grunt and a moan.Whoa.He’d pictured her someplace else entirely. No, he could beabsolutely certainshe wasn’t lying alone on his bed. Bed comfort testing was not in the service contract. Bed comfort testing was not something one paid for if one wished to be on this side of the jail cell.
He should have talked to her more. If she was going to distract him that much without even trying, he should have just said the hell with it and given into it.
He knew almost nothing about her.
It probably wasn’t right that he spent so much time fantasizing about her lately.
