8. Archer
Chapter 8
Archer
Shane Taggart was a fucking mystery. Who the hell gave people they just met keys to their fucking building? The whole series of events was fucked up. One minute I was in the park and the next I was balls deep in my brother’s boss.
What I wouldn’t give to hit that again. Holy shit. Shane was a sight, all needy and quivering under me. It was like someone had broken into my brain and made a man in the shape of all my fantasies. Shane had been built to my specifications. Tall, tattooed, thick, scruffy bottom.
I shifted in my chair. I had to stop thinking of him all naked and— nope . Focus, Archer. He gave me keys. He gave me hope. I figured there had to be a catch, so my first stop was somewhere with food and wifi. I ordered myself dinner, grimacing at the paltry sum in my bank account. While I ate, I googled Shane Taggart. Sure enough, he’d won a lottery. A sum that made my eyes bulge out of my head popped up on the screen.
Deciding that I’d seen enough, I closed the tab and put my phone face down on the table. Shane had the ability to help me, and I couldn’t afford to say no. Those were the simple facts. The not-so-simple fact was that I’d fucked him and I wanted to do it again, but if I said yes to the space, it was like saying no to that ever happening again.
I wasn’t stupid. Men came and men went, but giving up this opportunity for a piece of ass, one that wasn’t even a sure thing, was stupid. Maybe Shane didn’t do repeats. It was a no-brainer. I had to take the space. I was slowly suffocating at Cyrus and Marshall’s. They meant well, and I was grateful I’d had somewhere to go, but this felt like a lifeline. I’d been floating in the ocean, clinging to debris, and though Cyrus had tossed me a lifeline, Shane showed up with a whole fucking ship and offered to save me.
Saying no wasn’t an option. Flipping my phone over, I brought up Shane’s number and dropped him into my contact list. I gave him the initials LS. If anyone asked, it meant Landlord Shane. Only I would know that it meant Little Slut.
From memory, I made a sketch of the space, the parts I’d seen anyway. I hadn’t gotten a look at the bedroom or the bathroom, but I was less concerned about those. I sketched out the floor plan and then mapped out where my gear would go. All the equipment at the shop had been mine, and when Clayton took off, he’d at least had the decency not to steal my shit.
After drawing up a few different blueprints for the space, flipped to a new page and started drawing a new business logo. Of course I drew an archer. A nice bow and arrow in several different styles. But that wasn’t quite original. I wrinkled my nose. I was good at drawing shit. Less good at naming it.
All of this was moot if I couldn’t use the space for a business. Swallowing the last of my coffee, and my anxiety, I fired off a text to Shane telling him that I’d take the space and I’d set up as soon as I got the green light.
My pulse raced when I saw the three gray dots bounce up and down as Shane formulated a response.
Just heard from my guys. You’re good to go. All you need is a business license.
The room swam around me and I forgot to breathe for a minute. This morning I’d been floating in the debris field, trying to see if there was anything useful in the wreckage of my life. And now I had a space for a business and a way to get the fuck off of Cyrus’s couch.
When can I move in? I texted him back with shaking hands.
I paid for my dinner while I waited for his answer. I had to get a business license. And borrow a truck to get all my shit out of storage. I had to design a logo and choose a new business name. Set up a new website. New social media. The to-do list in my head kept going and the longer it got, the more excited I became. I’d been without a plan for so long, that having one suddenly fall in my lap was like waking up on a random day and discovering Christmas came early.
Tonight if you want. It’s your space now. I’ll touch base tomorrow about a lease.
Tonight. I could move in tonight. Like hell I was going to say no to a deal as sweet as that. I was out of the diner and down the street before I could think about it. I wanted to save what little money I had left, so I took the bus back to Cyrus’s place. He and Marshall had bought their little fixer-upper a few years ago and they’d turned a turd into a jewel. It was a cute house with a swing on the porch and a white picket fence, and more than anything, I was happy to give them their space back.
Marshall was in the living room, folding laundry while he watched TV. He turned and offered me a smile when I came in.
“Hey, you’re back earlier than usual. Did you eat?”
“I just came from dinner actually.” I set my messenger bag down by the door and went to the laundry room. Most of my stuff was kept there because I hadn’t wanted my things lying around tripping Cyrus and Marshall and cluttering their house. They’d moved some extra linens around and made room for me .
Grabbing my small suitcase out of the bottom of the cupboard, I filled it with my clothes. By the time I went to the bathroom and gathered my stuff from there, Marshall had caught on that something was up.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?” Marshall eyed me with concern.
In all my excitement, I’d forgotten not to be an asshole. “Um, I ran into Shane Taggart today. And we got to talking.” I sent a silent thank you to my body for not betraying that we’d done more than talk. “The space above The Anchor was empty and his brother has been on his ass to rent it. He’s checked into it, and I can run my business out of the space.”
I took my armload of toiletries to my suitcase and dumped them inside. I wasn’t going far.
Marshall followed me to the laundry room. “This is kind of fast, Archer. You should take time to consider your options.”
“What options?” I did my best to keep my voice level, to not be annoyed, because Marshall was a pussy cat, a gentle little kitten, and being mean to him wasn’t anything I’d intentionally do. When he didn’t say anything, I took a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s impulsive, okay. I know a lot can go wrong. A lot has gone wrong already. But I can’t sit around and mope anymore. Somehow or another, I was given this great opportunity to turn shit around and I’d be an idiot to say no.”
Marshall’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Shane is a nice guy.”
“I know.”
“Cyrus adores his boss.”
“I know. What are you trying to say, Marshall?” I zipped my suitcase shut and stared up at him. This was exactly why I needed to get the fuck out of here. I hated having my every move questioned. Did you eat breakfast? Didn’t you have three cups of coffee already? Have you looked for a job? Have you found your ex-business partner yet? It made my skin itch. It was like being examined under a microscope. Living here had given Cyrus and Marshall the impression that they got a say in my decisions.
“Look, Marshall. If Shane didn’t want me to have the space, he wouldn’t have offered it. He doesn’t exactly seem like a guy who does shit he doesn’t want to do. And I won’t fuck anything up for Cyrus.”
Including definitely not sleeping with Shane again. I’d already established that he couldn’t be my landlord and my little slut. It was a shame, but sacrifices had to be made.
“Are you sure this is what you want? You don’t have to rush into things. You can take your time.”
“I’ve made up my mind.” I grabbed my suitcase and eyed Marshall until he stepped out of my way. Impulsive was my middle name. Over the years I’d sort of learned to curb some of the urges I had. It’s why I leaned into my art as much as I did. Doing things with my hands kept them out of trouble. Keeping my mind occupied kept it from wandering. Cyrus had a ten-year Plan A and a ten-year Plan B. I had a messenger bag of art supplies.
“Did you need a ride over?” Marshall asked, keys already jingling in his hand. The thing I loved the best about my brother’s husband was that he knew what battles weren’t his to fight. If I wanted to go, he’d let me. If I wanted to stay, he’d welcome me.
“That would be nice, thank you. Are we going to flip a coin to decide who’s going to tell my brother?”
Marshall laughed at me. “Hell no, that’s all on you.”
“You’re so loyal.” I envied that. Marshall would jump in front of a moving train for Cyrus. He’d move heaven and earth for him. They were the ride-or-die kind of husbands. I’d managed to find the exact opposite of that in Clayton. A man who only wanted me when it suited him, who I went into business with only for him to take off without a trace. Were it not for Marshall and Cyrus, I might not believe things like love and loyalty still existed.
Hell, until this afternoon I hadn’t believed that there was someone out there who was exactly what I wanted. Then Shane took me upstairs and went to his knees… and rocked my fucking world. And now I’d be living in his building. I’d probably see him every day. But he was off-limits now. I knew better than to shit where I ate, and if I was going to take Shane up on his generous offer, the last thing I wanted was to complicate things by continuing to fuck him. Though it was tempting. Shane was everything I’d always wanted, but never been able to find. Not only had I found the unicorn, I’d ridden it, and now I had to look and not touch.
It was a small trade. A chance to rebuild what was stolen from me, and all I had to do was keep my hands off the sexy bar owner.
No problem.