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“You sure are spicy under the sheets,” said Daniel, his hands practically pawing at her back. She was so hot at that moment, so lost in herself, that she almost didn’t hear him as she moaned and rocked, pulsating against him beneath her.
“My little Latin lover,” he’d said, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
That memory was like a splash of cold water to the face. She was never going to tell another guy about her heritage again—although her last name kind of made it obvious. She had to clutch the edge of the tablecloth to will her heartbeat to slow as Archer pulled out two plates, two glasses, and a set of utensils from his wonder bag.You barely know him, she told herself.And you don’t even know how… If… How it would work with him.
Still, there was a checklist of things she found appealing, so long as she pushed the memory of their first meeting to the back of their mind. Endearingly shy but able to stand up to jackasses when needed. Clearly interested in her without making her feel like a piece of meat at the market. Creative and talented—she’d almost cried readingWheels, and she’d stayed up late to read his other books, even if he hadn’t written them—he’d brought the stories to life with his talent. A sense of humor at the right occasion. Likely well-to-do, although she felt guilty for even thinking about it. That made her think about how Mrs. Ward had promised to talk to someone about a Field Museum job, though, and how that would take her hours away, which also made her think about his mother, period. There were definitely hints of mommy issues.
Although she was sure a therapist would tell her she had her own list of issues a mile long regardless.
Besides, it’d beenmonths. And if she were honest with herself, she’d stopped enjoying it with Daniel longer ago than that. He’d just been there, available. The second time they’d dated, she’d hardly even cared that his eye kept wandering.
She didn’t mean to voice her thought as she watched Archer pull out two plastic sandwich bags and gently place each sandwich on a paper plate, but she did. “What…?” Brielle covered her mouth.
Stuffing the bags back into his tote, Archer’s lips twitched sheepishly. “I’m… not the best cook? I mostly eat sandwiches.”
“No, it’s fine.” She poked her wheat bread with one finger. “I just… You went to so much trouble to set the stage, so to speak, it was a bit of a shocker to finally see the big reveal.”
Archer tossed the tote on the ground beside him and buried his face in his hands. “This was a bad idea.” He thankfully didn’t sound so much devastated as embarrassed.
“Oh, come on,” said Brielle. She picked the sandwich up between her hands and took a bite, not even bothering to ask what was in it. She typically would eat anything. To her surprise, it was pretty good. “Huh,” she said. “Looks can be deceiving.” It was toasted and there was chicken on it amidst some cheese and vegetables.
Peeking back out from behind his hands, Archer laughed and picked up his own sandwich. “My own little twist on a chicken pesto sandwich,” he said. He paused, the sandwich halfway to his mouth. “But I should have asked if you have any dietary restrictions or allergies.”
“No,” said Brielle, taking another bite of the sandwich. She stared at Archer as she chewed. “Really, you did fine. Relax. I think I could bounce a ball off those tense shoulder muscles.”
That made his shoulders loosen and a smile appear on his face. “Now I’m picturing in what circumstances you could possibly be bouncing balls off my shoulders.”
She nearly choked on some lettuce. “I’m getting the feeling that that was an entendre, but I honestly can say I’ve never used any bouncy balls in the bedroom.”
Archer’s face looked permanently burnt at this point, his blush was so profuse. “That was…” He put his sandwich down and cocked his head. “I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?”
She grabbed her empty cup and held it out to him. “Notbad, per se, but… Should I go fill this up from the water fountain or…?”
“Tea!” Archer bent over the side of his chair to grab at the tote. “I almost forgot.” Unscrewing the top of the large bottle, he poured some unsweetened black tea into both cups. “Sorry if you’re more of a sweet girl,” he said, picking up his own cup and about to take a sip.
Brielle peeked at him over the rim of her own cup before taking a sip. “You’re probably talking about the tea. But I don’t know. Maybe in certain circumstances, I’m not always so sweet.”
The cup in Archer’s hand wobbled as he practically spit his sip back into it.
Brielle grinned from ear to ear. He was hers if she wanted him, she was sure of it. She kicked back her glass.So what if you barely know him? So what if you have no idea where the future will take you—and be honest, you’re partly hoping and partly terrified it’ll just be more of right here. You’re not thinking about marrying him or anything.
But first things first. “So I’m being fired because…?”
“My mother is just…” said Archer, drifting off. “She gets an idea into her head and she passively aggressively does whatever she can to make sure I know she’s not pleased with me.”
“So shedoesthink we’re dating.”
“She… I don’t know. She might think we are. But I need to pick up after myself more and not rely on other people so much anyway.”
A little alarm bell went off in Brielle’s head. The “picking up after himself” thing seemed more like an excuse.Mother Issues 101.But whatever. She didn’t even have to see Mrs. Ward again necessarily. And without meaning to, the woman had actually made it easier for Brielle to act on her darkest desires. “Do you want to… um, go back to your place after this?” she asked. She hesitated, devouring the look of shock on his face as the cup practically slipped from his fingers. “Oh, it’s your mother’s day with you, isn’t it? Maybe we can have a rain check.”
“Nope! No, I mean… My mother isn’t coming by today.” Squished between his fingers, his cup started leaking some tea onto his hands. He jumped, looking down at the spot on his lap.
Laughing, Brielle fished some tissues out of her purse and handed them to him. She purposely brushed her fingers over the palm of his hand as she did, letting the tips dance lightly over his partially calloused skin. “This is going to become a habit with you, isn’t it?”
“What? Oh.” He stared down at his wet crotch. His legs were a little too skinny for the bulk of his upper body, but Brielle didn’t care—it looked right on him. “I’ll try not to make it one?”
Chapter Fourteen
