Beautiful Thing (The Brighton Family #6)

Chapter 1

1

ARCHER

“ Y ou need a girlfriend, Archer Brighton. That’s what you need!”

The old lady with the silver-blue hair speaks decisively as she leans way too close and adjusts the collar of my checkered flannel shirt.

A jolt of annoyance shoots through my nerves. Here we fucking go. Again.

I take a peek over my shoulder to the other end of the checkout counter. Layla is closing down her cash register for the day. And pretending to mind her business.

But the subtle smile dancing on her rosy lips gives her away. So does the amused twinkle lighting up her eyes. She drops her chin, attempting to hide behind the silky curtain of her mahogany bangs.

One little glance in her direction and a ripple of electricity races down the back of my neck. Damn. She’s so pretty.

With a brisk shake of my head, I quickly remind myself—Layla’s just my younger sister’s best friend.

I shift my attention to the stack of debit machine receipts in my hands and try to look busy. “Don’t you go there, Miss Holly,” I mumble under my breath as I shuffle through the little slips of paper.

“This is serious, young man,” her friend, Debra, butts in urgently. She smells like she’s wearing an entire bottle of perfume. “You’re a catch. You’re so big and handsome. And you have a house. You have your truck. You just bought this hardware store.” She motions dramatically to the aisle of hammers and paintbrushes behind her. “The only thing missing is a good woman to nurture your soul.”

“Yes,” Miss Rosie adds, her tiny frame peeking around her much taller friends. “And now that all your younger siblings are getting married off, don’t you think it’s time you settle down, too?”

I hold back a sigh. Now I’m wishing I had locked up the doors a few minutes early. Before this flock of old women flew in to browse my aisles and antagonizeme.

I glance over my shoulder again. This time, I catch Layla peeking. Her big, brown eyes momentarily lock with mine, instantly disorienting me. As always.

She rolls her lips together and quickly averts her gaze. She’s still trying—and failing—to hide her little grin as she carefully counts a handful of nickels and drops them into the coin tray.

She’s finding this funny .

I turn back around, sliding the debit receipts into an envelope and pinching the bridge of my nose. Again, I’m confronted by Miss Holly and her friends. Standing there. Judging me.

There’s no polite way to tell these nosy women to mind their own fucking business. Starlight Falls is one of those sleepy Iowa towns where nothing exciting ever happens. The five thousand residents keep themselves entertained by gossiping about their neighbors. All the elderly hippie ladies around town believe that the status of my love life is prime material for public discussion.

I happen to disagree.

As a business owner, I don’t want to alienate my customers. As a gentleman, I’d rather not disrespect these meddling women.

But I’m going to have to draw the line somewhere. Especially since they’re constantly coming in here and trying to play matchmaker—something I find more excruciating than physical torture.

When Miss Holly reaches for my collar again, I restrain a growl. I give her wandering hand a polite but firm squeeze before setting it on the counter. “Thanks for your concern, ma’am. But my life is just fine,” I say—instead of telling her what I really think she should do with her unsolicited opinions.

You don’t see me in here telling them they shouldn’t be pursuing the DIY plumbing aisle. You don’t see me telling them to go hire a handyman to do the heavy lifting. I allow them to do whatever the hell they want.

So, if I want to live in my peaceful solitude, what’s it to them?

“Well, if you had a woman in your life, you’d be doing better than ‘just fine’,” Miss Rosie insists, throwing me a suggestive wink.

My chest rumbles with frustration and my eyes roll up to the ceiling. I catch sight of a dead lightbulb I’ll need to replace.

Miss Holly leans in, her voice hushed and her stare wide with terror. “You know what I heard happens to men who aren’t making love on a regular basis…?”

Miss Debra folds her arms across her chest and her chin motions toward my crotch with disdain. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

For crying out loud!

Before I can say something I’ll regret, Layla is stepping up beside me, handing me the cash box and key. “Oh, ladies. You leave Archer alone. You all should know as well as anyone that some people truly are happier on their own. Being single beats being in a relationship with the wrong person,” she adds, her voice wavering slightly.

I don’t mistake the pain I hear in her voice when she talks about being with the wrong person.I instantly get all pissed off at the thought of her dirtbag ex.

Razor is the father of Layla’s baby, so I try to behave, I try to stay out of it.But any man who gets his girlfriend pregnant, treats her like garbage and then leaves her to struggle on her own without ever looking back, deserves a fist through his face.

Before I can start ruminating over Layla’s situation, a phone rings in the distance. Taking advantage of the distraction, I wish the ladies a good evening, excuse myself, and flee to my office to answer the call.

As I go, I glance up at the ornaments and tinsel dangling from the wooden rafters here at the Hammers and Hardware Outlet. It’s about time I take down all these damn Christmas decorations.

Over the phone, I make quick work of answering the caller’s questions about the store’s opening hours, and a moment later, Layla is standing in the doorway to my office.Even though I just saw her a mere minute ago, her effortless beauty and her twinkly presence startle me all over again.

I’m supposedly running a business. Yet, even the briefest eye contact with my gorgeous employee makes me completely forget whatever big, important goal I’m trying to accomplish here.

After knowing this girl for more than two whole decades, I should be used to her by now. But I’m not. Her pretty face catches me off-guard every time.

Feeling like a speechless fool, I just blink up at her.

“Are you okay?” she asks sweetly. “With the way those old ladies were hounding you, I mean.” When she tucks a lock of her shiny brown hair behind her ear, I silently wonder what those loose waves would feel like slipping between my calloused fingers.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I reach for the sudoku puzzle on my desk and try to look unaffected. “I’ve been through worse.”

Ever since all my siblings coupled up, everyone around town has been on my case for being single. Especially because I’m the oldest of the Brighton crew.

Apparently my quote-unquote ‘advanced age’ means I was supposed to be the first to get hitched. Not the last.

People seem to think that because I’m not attached at the hip with some woman that I’m a miserable, lonely sap. Why can’t everyone just get off my back?

Layla’s nose wrinkles, looking goddamn cute. “You’ve been through worse ?”

“Yeah. My mother and my grandmother.”

The two of them have been on my case about my ‘singledom’ for years. They’ve gotten even more overbearing now that all my siblings are in their ‘coupling up’ era, as Karli calls it.

I’m now the only single Brighton. Which means that finding me a partner is now the hot topic of the family group chat.

Layla covers her wide grin with her delicate fingers. “Oh my gosh. I can only imagine.”

“Every time I talk to them, they start raving about the eligible bachelorettes they’ve been meeting in every city they visit,” I complain. “It’s like they’re trying to ship over a mail order bride from Europe. The whole thing has been a headache.”

The minute my father retired from his medical practice, he whisked Mom off on a trip to Europe. That was well over a year ago. They’ve spent a lot of that time in Ireland where Dad’s parents now live. But the rest of their trip has been spent hopping from city to city, going on adventures.

I sort of lucked out, in a sense, when they all made the last minute decision to spend the Holidays overseas. But with Felix’s wedding only a few weeks away, the senior Brightons are all preparing to return home for the big event. And I’m bracing for impact.

I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m not looking forward to seeing my folks. I am. I love them. I do.

But instead of just allowing me to enjoy the festivities that will come along with Felix and Daphne’s fancy wedding, my mom and grandma are going to be busy driving me absolutely insane.

Layla—who doesn’t know just how bad my life is about to get—leans against the side of my desk and laughs at my predicament.

“Good to see you think this is entertaining,” I grumble, shaking my head.

As her giggles simmer down, her big, brown eyes shine sympathetically at me. “Seriously though, Archer. You should have a girlfriend. You’re a great guy and—”

“Not you, too. You are not seriously about to stick your nose in my dating life.” I huff in disbelief.

“What…?” she asks innocently. “We’re friends…”

“I’m your boss,” I correct her, attempting to draw a boundary between us in my brain.

Layla tilts her pretty head to the side and glares at me. “The same boss who’s made a hobby out of sticking his nose in every aspect of my life? That boss?”

“Whenever I stick my nose into your business, I’m just trying to be helpful,” I argue.

“Well, so am I.” She grins broadly, holding her hand over her head and pointing to herself. “Helpful, helpful over here.”

I feel the corners of my lips trying to twitch upward. But I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack a smile. “Y’know what? I’m done being nice to you. Next time, you’ll clean your gutters yourself.”

I make an extra effort to keep my game face in place. But deep down, I know I’ll be cleaning those gutters before she even has to ask me.

I’d never leave Layla Cipriani out there in need of help, just to prove a point. Even if it’s a damned good point.

Chuckling, she folds her arms under her perky breasts. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that!”

I force my eyes to not travel to her chest. Even in her green work apron and loose-fitting jeans, Layla’s delicate curves are the ultimate temptation. Whenever I’m around her, it takes all of my willpower not to stare. It’s been pure torture now that we spend every day together here at the store. No wonder I leave here exhausted every single day.

The familiar chime of her phone rings out. Her body language flips from ‘laidback’ to ‘urgent’ like a switch.

She silences her alarm and hurriedly rips off her apron without missing a beat. Then she snatches her jacket off the hook behind the door. My stomach tingles as I watch her reel the teal blue scarf I gifted her this Christmas around her neck.

“Welp—I’ve got to go pick up Sky from daycare.”She quickly slings her purse up her shoulder.

My mood lightens at the thought of little Skylar. He’s growing up so darn quick and looking more and more like his mama every day.

With a nod, I hit the power button on the screen of my old desktop computer and rise from my rickety chair. “Yeah. It’s past time to close up the shop anyway.”

Layla starts backing away. Then she shoots me another grin. “See you at Nolan’s bar tonight?”

Before I say anything, her smile slips away, replaced by a look of guilt across her face.

“The bar ?”I question, my eyebrow hitched with suspicion.

Why would she ask about going to my brother’s bar? Layla usually doesn’t go out on week nights. Hell—as much as she struggles to find a trustworthy babysitter, she rarely goes out at all these days.

Then it hits me.My eyes narrow. “What is my sister planning?”

But Layla pretends to not hear me. I don’t miss her guilty smile as she quickly hustles off toward the back door of the hardware store.

Just before she exits, she looks back, calling over her shoulder. “Happy birthday, Mr. Mustache!”

And just like that, she’s gone.

I stand there, stroking my beard and staring at the empty space she just left behind.

This is a setup. Everything about this screams that it’s a goddamned setup.

But if there’s a chance that Layla might be at the bar tonight to celebrate my birthday, count me in. I’ll be there.