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Chapter Six
Talia
The muffled voices progress down the hallway, one of them laughing—Calista—the other whispering. I don’t recognize the male voice.
“Who’d she bring home?” I ask myself, rolling out from under Archer. On my way to the bedroom door, I snag his shirt off the floor, pull it on, and do up enough buttons not to be exposed. A light knock comes as I’m reaching for the knob. I open the door and peer out of the crack at my sister. Her smile is wonky, her cheeks rosy.
“You’re home early,” I inform her, grateful to Archer for suggesting we come in here for privacy.
“I didn’t go out for drinks. I had a few at the bar at work instead. Webber drove me home,” she adds, deflecting a lecture about driving under the influence.
“Who’s Webber?” I look past her to her closed bedroom door, where Webber is probably taking off his pants. At least I hope that’s what he’s doing in there rather than raiding her jewelry box.
“He’s the floor manager. Julio knows him.”
Julio’s the owner of Mango’s. He’s also a chef and Calista’s mentor. I thought for a long while Julio might be the guy Calista brought home for sexy times, but according to her, all they do is fight. Over the menu, over technique. She told me he reminds her daily if she was in a five-star restaurant, she would have been fired by now or put on oyster-shucking duty, I assume because it’s an undesirable task.
“How well does Julio know him?” I ask when I hear rustling in her room.
Music starts playing, the bass thumping through the wall. She turns and looks over her shoulder before promising, “I’ll keep it down. Don’t worry.”
I do worry. She’s my younger sister, and her track record with men is not great. I realize this is a bit pot/kettle, but she’s more of a risk-taker than me. The last time I took a risk, I ended up playing house with the man who, as you know, took my raise out from under me.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes sharpen on my attire. The oversize white button-down shirt I’m wearing is very obviously not mine. “Who do you have in there?” She pushes on the door but I stand firm. I’m taller and weigh more than she does so she doesn’t get far. She mouths “Brandon,” and I can’t help answering aloud.
“Ew. No. Not Brandon. Never Brandon.”
The door is pulled from my grasp a second later as a wall of male heat blankets me from behind. “I second the never part.” Archer reaches around me to extend a hand to my sister. “Archer Owen.”
“Archer. Owen,” she says meaningfully. She knows everything about him that I know…except what has transpired in the last eight to ten hours. She attended the fundraiser with me last year, so she’s seen him before. No idea if she remembered what he looked like, but her slack-jawed expression suggests she didn’t recall as many details as she’s absorbing right now. Her wide eyes suggest she’s stunned by his good looks, and really, how could she not be?
“Nice to finally meet you,” she says after shaking his hand.
“If he’s trouble, let me know.” He tips his chin toward the bedroom door. “I’m in rare form today.” He sends me a meaningful glance. “I’m going to grab my bag from the car. Fingers crossed I find what we need in there.”
He literally crosses his fingers and then slips past Calista. Shirtless, as I’ve commandeered that article of his clothing, he walks out of our apartment wearing only pants and shoes.
“Holy shit, Tal, he’s gorgeous,” Lis tells me after he shuts the front door behind him. “What’s he hoping to find?”
“Condoms. We used the two he had.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming here?” she loud-whispers.
“I didn’t know! He showed up at the office unannounced and…then a few other things happened.”
“What things?” Her dark eyes narrow. She looks a lot like me. Dark brown hair, warm complexion with bronze undertones. Her eyes are brown instead of my hazel, and she’s about five inches shorter than me, having inherited our mother’s stature: curvy, with a cute button nose.
“It’s a long story, Lis.”
She folds her arms, the picture of stubbornness. I sigh, knowing a standoff could last hours with her, and give her the bottom line. “I quit. Or, I was fired. Or both. I don’t know. I dumped green juice on Ed’s head after he gave my raise to Brandon. And then Brandon started mouthing off about how he’d ‘hit that,’ meaning sex with me, and Archer punched him in the face.”
“What!” She blinks a few times in quick succession, then she smiles, and her eyebrows rise when she adds, “I would have loved to see him hit Brandon.”
“It was awesome. Almost worth losing my job over.”
Her temper ignites. “Those dirty bastards. How could they do that to you? The grand opening couldn’t have gone half as well without you. Brandon can’t tell his elbow from his blowhole. I cannot believe no one had your back over there after how hard you’ve worked building that company!”
I smile. Not only at her “blowhole” comment, which was damn funny, but at how she rushes to my defense, assuming I was in the right. I was, but it’s still nice to hear.
