Forcing You Away (Archer & Everleigh 1)

“No, but you are,” he mutters, then drives his fist into Cain’s gut.

Cain doubles over, and Smith stands between them. “Cain, leave. Now,” he orders, then looks at us. “Archer, not cool.”

There’s a fire in Archer’s eyes, a rage I’ve never seen before, and it’s a little frightening. I only meant to make him jealous, not knock the breath out of a guy.

Without another word, Archer sets a stack of twenties on the bar, then makes his way to the door. I quickly follow, feeling guilty as hell.

“Archer, wait,” I plead, rushing in my heels and hoping I don’t twist an ankle. “Hold on, I can’t run in these.”

“What the fuck were you thinking, Everleigh?” He snaps and turns around. His hands are still balled into fists as if he’s ready to fight.

“I told you he wasn’t worth it! Why’d you punch him?”

“Because he shouldn’t get away with calling you names like that,” he states. “Cain’s a tool, and he had no right to treat you like a piece of meat.”

“I can take care of myself, especially when it comes to guys like him. It wouldn’t be the first time,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself, realizing how cold it is outside.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to face it alone. I lost my temper.” He steps toward me, closing the space between us. “You drive me fucking crazy. I know you were only trying to get under my skin with that flirty act back there, but the thought of Cain—or any man—touching you pushes me into a blind rage. It’s something I’ve tried to hide these past few months because I knew there’d come a time when you’d bring someone home. I’ve kept trying to convince myself that it was for the best. That any guy who isn’t me would be better.”

I lean against the brick building, trying to control my breathing and warm up. He notices and removes his jacket, wrapping it around my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I say. “And thank you for rescuing me even though I could’ve handled him on my own.”

Archer doesn’t move.

His eyes stay glued to mine as his hands cup my face in silence. He looks like he’s contemplating if he should lean in or walk away.

To my dismay, he presses his lips to my forehead.

“Let’s go home,” he mumbles just above a whisper. “You owe me cake.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Chapter Twenty-One

ARCHER

I haven’t lost my temper like that in months, years even, and it only took some asshole eye-fucking Everleigh to make me snap. Cain’s one of the gym junkies who comes in almost every day, bragging about how much he can lift and how many phone numbers he gets. Then in the next breath, he’ll say what a great dad he is and how his wife gives him midday blow jobs. If I wasn’t working, I would’ve decked him long ago for being a fucking idiot.

After we get back to the house, Everleigh unveils the cake.

“Please don’t laugh. I’m still an amateur decorator, but I found this recipe and thought you’d like it,” Everleigh says, carrying it to the sofa. She made me close my eyes and promise not to peek.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” I reassure her. “Can I look now?”

“One second….” She draws out, then clears her throat. “Okay, open.”

I lean forward and see it on the coffee table. “Oh wow…” My mouth drops at what I’d undoubtedly call a masterpiece. “What kind is it?”

“It’s a triple chocolate layer cake with marshmallow frosting. And there’s vanilla marshmallow fluff buttercream between the layers. My first time making it, but I think it turned out okay.”

“Just okay?” My jaw is still on the floor. “Everleigh, this looks delicious. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Of course. It’s your special day. Well, weekend.”

“What’s on top?” I ask as Sassy drools next to me. She’s ready to devour it in one bite.

“It’s things that I thought represented who you are. Boxing gloves, a teddy bear— because you let me snuggle with you every night—” she explains, and we both laugh. “And then a heart, because no matter what, you have mine—whether you take it or not.”

I swallow down the huge lump in my throat as I stare up at Everleigh. She’s everything I could ever want and more, and here she is, telling me I’m hers.

How can I deny feeling the very same?

“Everleigh…”

“Yes, I know the rules. But it’s the truth.”

I hold out my hand, begging for her to take it. After a moment of hesitation, she finally does, and I pull her to my body until she’s straddling my hips.

“Archer,” she squeals, nearly sliding off, but I steady her. “I drank my weight in alcohol so—”

Grabbing her face, I brush my lips against hers. I’ve deprived myself of tasting her for way too long. Even though we kissed on New Year’s Eve, it wasn’t enough. I wanted—needed—more, and I’m sick of holding back.