Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths (Ugly Truths #1)

10. Maggie

10

Maggie

S tupid. I’m so stupid.

I berate myself as I drop my head to the glass bar-top where Archer deposited me without a word before going to his office. I can’t believe I thought he might actually be interested in me, that he was asking me to dinner like some kind of date or something.

He called me his “responsibility”—and doesn’t that fucking sting?

I mean, give me a break; it’s not like I asked for his help.

I have practically been looking after Jane and myself since I was nine. I have been drowning in responsibility the majority of my life, never depending on anyone else but me.

I don’t actually need Archer. I can take care of myself just fine. Only, it has been nice to have someone else to lean on for a change, someone to help with the hard stuff, who puts my needs first.

But not if he only sees me as some sort of pet project. Or worse—some damsel in distress who needs a big strong man to save her. I never want to be viewed as weak, especially not by him.

“What can I get for you?” a deep, masculine voice interrupts my inner musings.

I lift my head, only to be met with the most striking cerulean eyes of the man behind the bar. This man is gorgeous—not in the same refined way as Archer, but in a more rugged way. His deep brown hair is cropped close to his scalp, and a light stubble lines his sharp, angular jaw.

He smirks, quirking one eyebrow, and I remember he asked me something. Oh, right!

“Water!” I blurt out, cringing when my voice comes out a touch too loud. “Um—sorry. Water’s fine,” I say quieter this time.

His smirk morphs into a wide, warm smile that lights up his entire face. I am certain that smile has charmed many a woman’s pants off.

Fortunately, he chooses not to comment on my dazzling response; instead, he just nods once before turning to fix my drink.

I palm my face, feeling stupid and foolish for the second time this evening.

“Thanks,” I tell him when he comes back, setting my glass down on a paper napkin in front of me. Suddenly parched, I take a large gulp, hoping the icy water will help cool my flaming face.

“So, I noticed you came in with Archer,” he states .

“Um…yeah. We are supposed to be going to dinner when he’s done.”

He cocks his head, eyes narrowed as he looks me over. “Hmmm?”

“Hmm…what?” I ask, though from the way he is sizing me up I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just surprised he left you here all by yourself. Doesn’t he know, someone as pretty as you… Anyone might come along to steal you away?”

My stomach plummets through the floor as I realize how my words could have been misconstrued. Does he think me and Archer are together ?

I mean, technically, we did come here together, and I am living with him at the moment, but we are not together . God, the last thing I need is word to get back to Archer that I am going around telling people we are dating. How humiliating would that be?

Setting the record straight, I tell him, “No—It’s not like that. We’re not like dating or anything. He’s just letting me stay at his house for a little bit.”

His eyes widen momentarily before taking on a mischievous gleam.

He leans in closer, his large forearms resting on the bar.

“So would that mean you’re single then?” I nod. “Well, lucky me,” he says with a playful wink.

Damn. This guy’s good. That disarming smile, paired with a face and body like his, I’m sure he gets all the ladies. Too bad it does nothing for me. Now if he was a certain tattooed, grey-eyed broody asshole …

“Watch yourself, Jayce,” Archers growls from behind me, his deep voice ghosting over my bare shoulder, causing goosebumps to break out on my arms and legs.

He steps into me so close, I can feel the heat radiating from his body against my back, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. My head spins as a low heat starts deep in my belly.

“What, brother?” he says, not bothering to divert his gaze from mine.

Wait, what?

“Brother!” I squeak out, looking from this man to Archer and back again, not really seeing any resemblance.

“Half-brother,” Archer grunts out with a deep scowl that only causes his brother to chuckle before holding out his hand to me in greeting.

“Jayce,” he says.

“Maggie. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, reaching out to return the handshake. Only, he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he turns it over and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Yep, this one is definitely trouble.

Archer rolls his eyes, slapping at Jayce’s hand. “Enough of that,” he barks, which only results in Jayce laughing harder.

“Everything should be taken care of. I was able to borrow a couple of bottles from Pete next door. It should be enough to get you through the night. The boxes are going to be redelivered by the time we open tomorrow,” Archer tells his bother before turning to me .

“Ready to go?” Archer asks, and I nod.

He takes my hand, helping me down from my stool—and damn, there’s that spark again.

After saying our goodbyes, he guides me through the crowd, his warm palm at the small of my back. At the door, he drops it, but I can still feel it there, like a brand on my skin.

Outside, I take a few steps, hoping that putting some distance between us will help me clear my head. I don’t know what it is about this man that affects me this way. Maybe Natya is right, and I do need to get laid.

The thing is, I’ve never understood the big deal about sex. I never experienced the same desires and urges as other people my age. The only time I even really get aroused is when I’m by myself, so these feelings are all very new to me. And of course, it would happen for a man who I have no chance in hell of sleeping with.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks, cutting through the silence.

You . Surprised by my own thoughts I look away, hoping he can’t see the blush I know now stains my cheeks.

“Um…anything, really.”

Despite what I said earlier, I am actually starving.

In the end, we decide to grab sandwiches from one of the food stands and eat at one of the tables down by the river.

“So…your brother seems like a lot of fun,” I say, taking a bite of my food.

It’s so good I’m not even a little bit embarrassed by the moan that slips out of my mouth. My tongue darts out to catch a little of the aioli sauce that lingers at the corner.

I open my eyes to meet Archer’s darkened gaze as he glares at my lips before his face smooths out, once again adopting that blank expression.

“Umm...yeah. He’s a good guy,” he says, obvious affection warming his tone.

“You said he was your half-brother, right?”

He nods.

“We have the same mom. David Wilder, Jayce’s dad, was my stepfather. He adopted me and pretty much raised me as his.”

He speaks fondly about his stepfather, but there’s a definite sadness in his words, and I don’t miss the way he talks about him in past tense. I wonder what happened, but I know it’s none of my business, so I don’t pry.

“And what about your biological dad? Do you ever talk to him?”

He shrugs.

“I used to, but not really anymore,” His face hardens, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Let’s just say we had a falling out of sorts.”

I can sense that this is a touchy subject for him, so I try to switch back to a safer subject, but somehow, only wind up making it worse.

“So, do you have other siblings?”

His expression falls, and immediately, I wish I could take the question back.

He doesn’t speak, just nods once before turning away to stare out over the muddy water of the Savannah River. He’s quiet for so long, I assume that’s all the answer I’m going to get but…eventually, he looks back at me with such a tortured expression, my heart squeezes in my chest.

“I have a half-brother and sister on my dad’s side, Easton and Violet. And…Jayce and I—we had a younger sister, Cecelia. She died a few years back,” he says.

“Oh my God! Archer I’m so sorry,” I gasp, my hand reaching out to cover his where it rests on the table. I know there are no words that could take away the pain of losing a loved one but still, wanting to offer any comfort I can.

He remains silent, his gaze frosting over as he glares at where our hands are joined on the table. His nostrils flare and he flexes his hand before wrenching it out from under mine.

I draw mine back, burying it between my legs in my lap.

My appetite now gone, a queasy feeling takes root in my gut.

How could you be so careless? I chastise myself. This is the second time I have touched him, and he has made it clear by his actions that he doesn’t like it. And though it’s not an excuse, I just feel this strange connection to him and sometimes, it’s easy to forget he is practically a stranger.

Way to go Maggie.

Too afraid I’ll say or do the wrong thing again, I spend the rest of our meal picking at my food in silence.

When we arrive back to Archer’s house later that night, we both walk silently up the stairs to our respective rooms.

The rest of the evening was wrought with heavy tension that made our grocery trip together almost unbearable.

The guilt I feel is overwhelming, and even though I know it was unintentional, I still can’t help but want to do something to fix my mistake. I know there is no way I will be able to sleep if I don’t find a way to somehow make this right.

I stop him before he can disappear to his room.

“Archer, wait—” I call out, and he turns eyes flashing to where I am touching him… again. I curse low under my breath, quickly drawing back my hand as if burned.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you again, not when you obviously don’t like it. I should’ve have known to keep my hands to myself. I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier, bringing up bad memories. I—I didn’t know,” I say quietly to the floor.

When he doesn’t respond, I chance a glance. Gone is the stony mask he usually favors. In its place he wears a dangerous and fiery expression. His grey eyes are like molten steel that heats my skin, stoking the embers of desire that simmer deep in my belly.

Confused by the intensity of his reaction and the feelings they stir in me, I start walking backwards, hoping to retreat to the safety of my room before I get burned. But for every one step I take back he takes one forward, stalking me until there is nowhere left to run.

The air whooshes out of my lungs when my back hits the wall. My heart races as his strong arms come up to cage me in. If this is his way of trying to intimidate me, I’d say it’s working, but I’ll be damned if I let him know that.

Squaring my shoulders, I continue to hold his stare, refusing to back down.

“I said I was sorry.”

The laugh he lets out is low and menacing as his hooded eyes rake over my body.

I can feel my nipples harden to stiff points and my thighs clench, trying to relieve the ache in my center.

He runs his nose along the column of my neck, inhaling deeply. “Is that what you think, Little Rose? That I don’t like your touch?”

“M-m-maybe,” I stammer, confused.

“You’re wrong. The problem isn’t that I don’t enjoy your touch,” he whispers low in my ear before taking my lobe between his teeth, biting down almost to the point of pain before abruptly pulling back leaving me a panting mess sagging against the wall.

Icy rage quickly replaces his desire, and all traces of warmth are now gone from his voice when he continues.

“The problem is, I enjoy it, Too. Damn. Much . I dream about having your hands on me day and fucking night,” he says, tugging on his hair. “I crave you so goddamn bad, I’m driven to such distraction, that I’m unable to remember just why you can never be mine. ”

I open my mouth—to say what I don’t know—but he keeps going before I can get a word out.

“I told you, my sister died. What I didn’t tell you was, she was murdered. The bullet that killed her was meant for me. My little sister is dead because of me!” he roars. “Don’t you see? I don’t deserve your comfort. I don’t deserve your touch. I am not a good man and once this is all sorted out, you would do well to stay as far away from me as possible.”

With those parting words, he turns abruptly, storming down the hall before disappearing into his room, leaving me alone, flustered and confused as hell.