“Thanks, mate.”
Instead of losing my shit, I give the man a weak smile. Archer Bremen isn’t the first man-child I’ve had the displeasure of working with.
I guess I should just be grateful he’s wearing sweats instead of walking around the house completely naked.
A low growl comes from across the room, and I look expecting to see a huge guard dog or some other kind of terrifying dog with the noise it’s making, but my eyes land on a little cloud of white fur.
A huff of a laugh escapes my throat, and the ball of fur doesn’t seem to take too kindly to my dismissal. The crazy thing lunges at me. I could stand my ground because of its size, but even small dogs have teeth. I jerk back, scrambling to climb on the counter, but Archer grabs the thing up, holding it to his chest as he laughs.
“Scared of dogs?” he manages after having a good time at my expense.
“Not a fan of being bitten by rabid creatures,” I tell him, putting both feet back on the floor and putting some distance between me and the furry terror.
The damn dog continues to growl as if it needs to protect its owner from me each time I move. I tell myself I’m watching its tail wag, and my eyes being locked on Archer’s muscled torso has nothing to do with my attention in that general vicinity.
“You’d think my boyfriend would get along better with Princess,” Archer says, petting the dog’s head as it continues to snarl in my direction. “Maybe if she sees us kiss, she’ll be less likely to hurt you.”
I narrow my eyes in his direction. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
“And here I was thinking I hired a boyfriend.”
“I’ll be your boyfriend in public,” I assure him.
“Maybe we need to practice to make sure we get it right.”
I huff. “I have no doubt about my boyfriend skills, and I don’t doubt yours either, considering how many child actor awards you’ve gotten.”
He grins at me, a beaming smile at my knowledge of his accolades.
His smile is… nice, highlighting perfect white teeth and a dimple on either side of his mouth that I’m sure gets him out of a lot of trouble.
“You need to get dressed for your appointment,” I tell him.
“You are my appointment.”
“You’re going to see a therapist this morning,” I say, wondering if the man was even given the details about how Blackbridge Security was going to help every aspect of his career.
“I don’t need a therapist,” he argues.
“And that’s what every addict says.”
His jaw clenches, that perfect smile of his vanishing.
“I’m not an addict.”
“You told the world you are, so you’re going to work on it… publicly. There’s nothing people love more than an underdog making a comeback. You have fifteen minutes to get ready so we aren’t late.”
I walk out of the room, wondering if this is the moment he digs his feet in and refuses.
He doesn’t say a word as I walk out of his front door, wondering if the mess in the house is leaching toxins in the air because I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes from the man’s abs the entire time I was talking.
“Just in time,” a man says as he approaches. “I have a coffee delivery.”
I’m irritated that not only did Archer drink my damn espresso, but he has also ordered a drink that looks like it’s nothing but sugar. I have no doubt he’ll have a cavity before he makes it to the bottom of the cup.
I pull out my wallet, tipping the delivery driver before taking the cup. I should pour the damn thing out in the bushes, but I place it in the center console after climbing in my SUV.
I’ve only been here half an hour, and I already regret showing up.
I can normally get the upper hand very quickly when working with a new client, but that is proving difficult to do with the man who thought first impressions should happen with his bare cock in his hands.
Chapter 4
Archer
“Enough,” Brooks snaps, smacking my hand when I reach for the radio control for the fourth time. “Driver picks the music.”
“I think that rule is invalidated when the passenger is a rock star,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my hand because he popped me hard this last time.
Instead of arguing further, his handsome face pulls up into a sneer as he keeps his eyes on the traffic.
It should piss me off, this man judging me and being a dick, but of course it doesn’t. His jaw ticks, drawing my attention away from the country music on the radio to the well-kept short beard lining it. He’s not looking at me, but I know his eyes are the most brilliant blue I’ve ever seen. His hair is on the shorter side, but I can tell the cut is expensive, as are his clothes. The watch adorning his left wrist speaks volumes as well. He’s cultured and sophisticated.