He stops at the employee door, needing me to punch in a code to unlock it. I fold the scrubs over my arm, careful not to press them against my wet dress, and take a spot next to him to enter the code. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a damn thing. The tension rolls off him in waves, and as nice as our chat was a minute ago, I cannot wait to get back into the bar and away from him.
That’s how Archer Jones has been since the moment I met him. Closed off. Guarded. Letting the walls inch down just enough for me to get a glimpse of the man inside only to bring them up again.
A little green light flashes after I punch in the four-digit code and Archer opens the door for me. I step in first, shivering almost immediately from the cold air blowing down on us from the vent above.
“Thanks again,” I say and turn to him. The door clicks shut and I shuffle forward. “For the scrubs. I’ll get them back to you tomorrow. How long are you in town?”
“Until Sunday.”
“Me too. I’ll, uh, see you again I’m sure.”
“I’ll be at your parents’ house tomorrow for the engagement party.”
“Oh, right.” I fiddle with a strand of hair, heart beating rapidly in my chest. Archer shifts his weight, lips parting as if he wants to say something. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before he blinks and turns his head, bringing his hand up to his stubble-covered jaw.
“I’m gonna go change now,” I blurt, needing to say something. It’s getting awkward just standing here.
“Yeah, good idea.” He nods and steps forward, following me out of the back hall and going back into the bar. He goes in the opposite direction, back to Dean and company, and I go into the bathroom. I do the best I can to rinse my skin, sticky from the margarita, and change into the scrubs.
Archer was right: they are big. Knowing I look ridiculous in oversized scrubs and heels, I fold my dress and exit the bathroom.
“I don’t get it.”
I turn, following the male voice I assume is directed to me. It’s that guy Cam from the bar, the one in the fancy suit with the expensive watch. He pushes off the wall, drink in his hand, and flashes that same super-bright white smile my way.
“Are you trying to be a sexy nurse? Because if you are, I suggest something with a little less coverage.”
I blink. Is that supposed to be a compliment? “I’m not trying to be a sexy nurse.”
“Then please explain your ensemble. Because I don’t get it.”
Is he that drunk or is he for real? “You don’t have to get it. It’s what I’m wearing so…” I bring up my shoulders in a shrug. He continues to stare at me, a smug smile on his lips. I shake my head and turn to walk away. He says something else and I pretend I don’t hear it. I go right to the bar again to get a bag for my wet dress and get my glass of vodka-soaked cherries that I stashed in the mini fridge under the counter.
“I heard what happened.” Owen looks over his shoulder as he fills a tall glass with beer from the tap. “Way to go, butterfingers.”
I make a face. “Someone bumped into me. Hard. It would have happened to you too.”
“Doubt it.” He makes a face back and gives the beer to a guy at the counter. I pop a cherry in my mouth, shuddering from how strong it tastes. Owen laughs. “Want me to make you a real drink?”
“Please. I’ll try an Old Fashioned.”
“Give me a minute,” he says and hurries off to bring out more drinks and flirt with his female customers again. I move away from the counter so people don’t mistake me for a bartender, though right now I look more like an escaped mental patient given what I’m wearing.
A few minutes later, I’m sipping the Old Fashioned and Jamie’s walking through the doors. She orders a beer and we snag two seats at the bar.
“Want to go home and change?” she asks.
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s not good.” She laughs and takes a hair tie off her wrist. “Stand up…let me fix it the best I can.” With a bit of finagling, she pulls the scrub top tighter, securing the band in the back. “At least I can see your figure now. And your tits. Maybe we can get some free drinks.”
Since the shirt is big, the V neckline goes down low. “I can already get us free drinks.”
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
I laugh and rest an elbow on the counter. Jamie and I have been friends since middle school, and though she still lives here and I’m up north in Chicago, it’s always like we just picked up right where we left off whenever we see each other.
We catch up, talking and laughing about any small town drama I missed. About half an hour later, a friend from work comes in, and Jamie’s all too excited to see him. She’s been crushing on him for a while, and they are seriously cute together.
My gaze darts to the back of the bar, finding Archer still in the booth with Dean and his friends. They have more shots in front of them, and while everyone else seems to be having a good time, something seems off with Archer.
But it’s not my problem.
“Want to play pool with us?” Jamie asks, finishing the rest of her beer.
“Yeah, sounds fun. I’ll get us drinks and meet you over there.” Back behind the bar I go and get Logan to make me three mojitos. I give him my credit card before I leave, opening myself a tab to cover what I spilled as well as what I drank and have him put Dean’s party on it as well.
“I have to say,” Cam starts, appearing out of nowhere. “The look is starting to work for me.”
I’ve already spilled enough drinks tonight and I’m determined not to shed one drop of the three I’m precariously balancing on a tray this time. Flicking my eyes to him, I keep walking, taking small, level steps.
“This might surprise you, but I didn’t get dressed today with the intent of my clothes working for you. I wear what I want.”
He laughs. “Sure you do. That little dress you had on was just for you, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” He winks and then laughs, and I’ve never been more tempted to throw a drink in someone’s face before. Guys like him make me want to throw up. I don’t need to be patronized, and I sure as hell don’t need him to mansplain how my brain works when I pick out an outfit to wear.
“Yes. It was.”
Grimacing, I set my sights on Jamie and her friend Bryan, delivering the drinks with no incident this time. We take turns at the pool table, not playing by the rules but giving us something to do as we drink and talk. Soon, Jamie and Bryan get handsy, and I go a few yards away to throw darts, giving them some privacy. Well, as much as they can get in a crowded bar.
“And then there was one.”
Seriously? I close my eyes in a long blink. Doesn’t this guy have anything better to do? If he’s really stuck in Newport on business, then no, he doesn’t. Still…haven’t I made it clear I’m not interested?
“Need some company?” Cam asks.
“No thanks, I’m good.” I finish the rest of my mojito and set the empty glass on a tall table. I have a feeling this guy’s going to give me his company whether I like it or not.
“Are you?”
“Yes. I am.” I throw a dart and hit only an inch from the bullseye.
“Nice shot!”
“Thanks,” I blurt, my manners coming out automatically.
“How about this: I get one closer and you come have a drink with me.”
“Look, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not interested.”
“Come on, sweetheart. What do you have to lose?”
I’ve dealt with my fair share of pushy guys before, but this guy is relentless. He takes a step toward me and I move back.
“I won’t bite.” He smiles. “Unless you want me to.” He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear, then runs his fingers across my shoulder and down my arm. If my drink was in my hand, I’d throw it in his face. Unfortunately, I’m holding a dart, and the last thing Logan and Owen need is a lawsuit over their sister stabbing a drun
k guy with grabby hands.
“Hey!” a loud male voice shouts. It’s not one of my brothers, and it only takes me a second to place the voice.
Archer.
“She’s not interested, man. Back the fuck off.” He shifts his gaze to mine. Darkness clouds his chocolate eyes and anger pulls down his handsome face. “Are you all right, Quinn?”
“I am now.”
Cam holds up his hands. “Sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to trespass on your territory.”
Archer gives him a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look, then before I know what’s happening, he coils his fists and goes to hit Cam right in the face. I grab his arm at the last second, the logical part of my mind kicking in. He said he’s applying for surgeon jobs. Getting arrested for a bar fight won’t look good on a resume.
“He’s not worth it,” I say softly, and Archer turns, just inches from me. He unclenches his hands and lowers his arm. I keep my fingers wrapped around his bicep, feeling the heat of his flesh through his t-shirt.
“But you are,” he says so softly I’m not sure I heard him correctly.
“What?”
He shakes himself, pulling out of my grasp. “You sure you’re all right? You don’t need me to punch this cocksucker in the throat?”
It’s like one of my brothers coming to my defense, but there’s something different with Archer. Maybe I’m the only one who feels it, and there’s a good chance I’m only feeling whatever the hell it is because I want to.
And also because I’ve had a few drinks.
But there’s nothing brotherly in the way Archer stands in front of me, eyes narrowed and arms held out slightly to his sides, ready to pummel Cam and defend my honor.
“No, but thanks. Really. You didn’t have to do that.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and turns, keeping himself between Cam and me. “That guy’s an ass.”
“He’s been hitting on me all night.”
“All night?” Archer tenses again and turns around. Cam is slinking away, but won’t get far if Archer decides to go after him.
“Even in the scrubs.” I give him a half-smile and sigh. “I’m trying not to go off on a rant right now, but I cannot stand guys like that. There are other reasons for going to a bar, you know. Not everyone wants to hook up with you, Mr. I’m-Doing-Business-in-Newport.”