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“That’s probably best.” She pushes away from the railing, glancing to her left, looking at the tub that sits outside near the deck. “You never did explain the reason for the tub being outside.”
“It’s built for two. The decks are all private; none of the guests can see each other.” I smile, imagining the two of us in that tub, our naked skin slick and soapy, Ivy sitting in mylap, her long legs wound around my waist. “It’s, uh, one of our most popular features.”
“I’m sure.” The sarcasm is thick and I take another step away from her, surprised. “Archer, what happened between us last night...”
“Was a mistake. I totally agree,” I finish for her, needing to be the first one who said it.
Weird thing, though, is the look on her face when I do. Like I slapped her when she least expected it.
“A mistake,” she says slowly as she nods. “That’s what you think?”
“Absolutely. I mean, come on. We could never work. I don’t do relationships. You know this.” I sound far more confident than I feel. Maybe it’s because I always say this sort of thing to women, or really more to myself. I’ve never been in a relationship. I know I would fail at one. I would most definitely disappoint her. Ivy.
But secretly? I wish she would give me—give us—a chance.
“And I do.”
“You most definitely do,” I agree a little too quickly.
“And you’re yet another Humpty Dumpty.” She sighs.
“What?” Okay, that made no damn sense. Why is she calling me Humpty Dumpty?
“The kind of guy who’s all broken up and can’t be put back together again.” She smiles at me, but it’s sad and the sight of it makes me feel like a complete jerk. “I have a type. And I think you top my type list.”
“I’m on your type list?” I never believed Ivy had any sort of crush on me. Not beyond thepush-pull-we-hate-each-other-maybe-we-should-tear-each-other’s-clothes-offthing we’ve been suffering through for years. Though I always figured that was more one-sided on my part.
“I never realized it until now. You’re so right. We could never work. I’m too nice. And you’re too... you.” She drops that bomb like it makes all the sense in the world.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I rub my palm against my chest, irritated with myself. I’m acting butt-hurt over a woman. This is crazy.
“Do I really need to explain myself, Archer?” She doesn’t let me answer. “Let’s go meet Gage. I need to get out of here.”
Without a word, I follow her out, trying to ignore the disappointment settling over me like a heavy wet blanket.
But I can’t. Her rejection, her words, hurt far more than I care to admit. And I’m the one who rejected her first.
We’re quiet as we head back to the car, Gage waiting beside it with his arms crossed in front of him, tapping his foot impatiently. We all get inside, Ivy taking the back seat this time, and the mood is dark as I make the quick drive home.
They both hop out of my car as if they can’t wait to get away from me the moment I pull up in front of my house and I climb out, chasing after them.
“Sorry to be so abrupt, bro,” Gage tosses out apologetically as he yanks his keys from his pocket and hits the remote, unlocking his car. “I have a client wanting to meet for dinner. He owns a piece of property I’ve been after for months and I think he’s finally going to cave.”
“I understand. You’ll have to call me when you make the deal.”
“Prepare for a call late tonight then.” Gage grins at me and I chuckle.
I get it. I’m a businessman. When an opportunity presents itself, you have to go for it, and that’s exactly what Gage is doing.
Sort of what I did with Ivy.
Sprinting ahead of her, I approach Gage’s Maserati and open the passenger door for her, watching as she slides into the seat. She glances up, her eyes fathomless as she studies me. “Thank you, Archer,” she murmurs. Then adds meaningfully, “For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” I automatically say, though I’m not quite sure what we’re referring to.
Rolling her eyes, she huffs out a breath and yanks the door closed, effectively shutting me off.
Shutting me out.
