“You’re a good person, Quinn,” he says softly, and then leans forward. “Software and robotics. You really are building some sort of badass car for a vigilante, aren’t you?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”
“You already established you were. So you might as well tell me.”
I laugh and take another drink of lemonade. “All I can say is if robots really do take over the world, at least I’ll know the code to shut them down.”
I reach over the bed, fishing my underwear out of the little space between the nightstand and the bed frame. After lunch, we had some time to kill before Archer needed to get to the airport to fly back to Indy.
Hand in hand, we walked the few blocks from the pizza place to his hotel, going up to his room for the sole purpose of having sex. In any other situation, this would have been weird. Tense. Embarrassing maybe.
But not with Archer. Things change the moment we take our clothes off, and there’s no awkwardness. No hesitation or waiting to see if Archer is going to tell me what’s on his mind. He’s very open and even more personal. We’re amazing together, making me feel bad for doubting the validity in the sex scenes I’ve read about in romance novels. It is possible to have multiple orgasms, and I think Archer was going for a record this time.
Lifting my ass off the mattress, I slip on my undies and lay back, heart still racing. Archer hasn’t put his clothes back on yet, which is fine by me, and is lying next to me, chest glistening with sweat.
He rolls to his side, slips his arms around my middle, and pulls me to him.
“I don’t want to go,” he whispers.
“I don’t want you to either.” I rake my fingers through his dark hair and move as close as I can, needing to feel every inch of him against me. I close my eyes, trying to commit this feeling to memory. I have no idea when I’ll see Archer Jones again.
He lets out a breath and brushes my hair out of my face.
“I’m glad I ran into you, Quinn,” he says. “The last twenty-four hours have been incredible.”
“Yeah, they have. I wish we could do it again.”
“Me too.” His lips meet mine. “Me too.”
We stay tangled together until the last possible minute and then scramble to get dressed. Archer’s already packed and ready to go, all he has to do is leave. Finally, and now at risk of missing his flight, we get in the elevator to go downstairs.
The tension starts to come back, and I’m not sure quite what to do. Say goodbye? See you later? I knew getting into a long-term, committed relationship wasn’t on the horizon. Yeah, I really like Archer, but we live very separate lives. But I have to say something, right?
I don’t know what to expect, or if he even wants to hear from me after this. Do we need to talk about this? Archer’s been a part of our family for a decade. If we don’t talk and then see each other at the rehearsal dinner…I internally shudder. And I thought riding down to the lobby was an awkward moment.
I hang back while Archer checks out, and we walk together in silence out of the hotel.
“Well,” I start, turning to face Archer.
“I’ll call you,” he says, and his deep brown eyes catch mine, and my heart aches already. There is no one else for me but him. He gets me. Goes along with my weird sense of humor. Makes me feel in-fucking-credible in the bedroom.
He’s so close yet so far away, and that little voice of hope that lives deep inside my heart screams at me to tell him how I feel. My brain overrides this time, going into self-preservation mode. It already hurts enough leaving after the amazing weekend we had together. Telling him that I think we should see each other again—soon—will only make it worse.
The timing is all wrong.
Archer is finishing his residency, who knows where he’ll end up.
Not to mention how much of a fit Dean would throw if he found out Archer and I hooked up. Though really…I don’t see what the big deal is. Everyone likes Archer.
Archer’s eyes sear into mine, and I wish so badly for super powers right now. I’d will him to say exactly what’s on his mind, because even if it’s not what I want to hear, at least I’d know what the hell is going on inside his brain.
Not going with words, Archer takes me by the waist, pulls me close, and kisses me hard. Tingles run all the way through me, and someone catcalls as they walk past us. He doesn’t need words to say what his kiss is telling me.
He’s saying goodbye.
Once the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes falling shut. His arms wrap around me, and he gives me a tight hug. I never want it to end.
“I’ll see you,” he says, breaking away. And then he gets into a cab.
I know I will see him again. But the question is, how will he feel when I do?
15
Quinn
Two weeks later…
I stretch my arms out in front of me, slowly rolling my wrist. It’s aching today, and I forgot my wrist brace at home. I remembered my posture brace, at least, and stand for the first time in hours to get it from my bag.
My office is warm today from having multiple computers running and my door closed. I found a snag in the software design and have been pulling my hair out all day trying to fix it. I think I’m the only one left in the office. Opening my office door, I twist my hair into a bun and use a pen to secure it on the top of my head. Grabbing the posture brace, I unbutton my blouse and take it off, tossing it in my oversized purse. I’m wearing a sheer white cami underneath, so it’s not like I’m just sitting in here in just a bra. I slip the brace on and sit back at my computer, feeling a bit better to have my shoulders held back into place.
As soon as I sit down, the nausea I’ve felt all day hits me hard. I get up to get some water, and as soon as I set foot out of the office, I run into Jacob.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks with a smile. And then his eyes drop to my chest. The brace smooshes my breasts together and up, working better than a pushup bra. If only I could hide it under clothes…
“Working. But what are you doing here?”
“Same thing. Well, kind of. I had to pick up files to sign off on.”
I casually pull up the collar of my cami, trying to cover my breasts as much as possible. “You should have asked me. I could have dropped them off to you. I go by your office on my way home.”
“Yeah, I thought about it, but wasn’t sure if your boyfriend would be mad.”
I let out a snort. “Archer isn’t my boyfriend.” Anger surges through me, but I should be proud. It’s the first time in two weeks I’ve said his name without sneering. Though, I really shouldn’t be mad, right?
There was no promise of commitment. My feelings for him stemmed from a teenage crush and it was my own naivety to think sleeping together would make him suddenly love me.
“Oh, you two looked, uh, close?”
I wave my hand in the air. “I’ve known Archer for years.” A twist of nausea hits me, and I put my hand over my stomach, grimacing.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think all the coffee I’ve been chugging is finally catching up with me.”
He laughs. “I’ve been there. So, since you’re not dating the doctor…”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Please don’t ask me out.
Jacob shuffles closer. “I know it’s only Monday and things come up, but do you want to grab dinner Friday?”
“Oh,” I start, and watch the hope rise in his eyes. Dammit. “I’m going to my parents’ this weekend. I haven’t seen my nephew in a while.”
“Right. I forgot about that. It’s nice you do that. Is Daisy still out of the picture?”
“Thankfully, which might sound awful to say.”
Jacob’s face softens. I’m not interested in dating him anymore, but it’s nice to have someone who knows my family history to talk to.
“I don’t think it’s awful. She’s the awful one. I mean, who can just walk away from their family like that??
?
“She’s got major issues. The only reason I hope she shows her sorry ass is so she can get served with divorce papers.” I shake my head, feeling sorry for Wes. “Anyway, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday for that meeting.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe we can grab lunch.”
“I think we can do that.” I smile, already knowing Marissa will tag along and keep it from feeling anything like a date.
I fall into bed as soon as I walk through the door of my room. “I’m literally dying,” I grumble to the cats, who followed me in wondering why the hell I went in here and not the kitchen. “Feed yourselves.”