Chapter 2
2
ARCHER
I step through the creaky door of The North Node Tavern and instantly get a handful of confetti to the face.
There are nearly a hundred different voices ringing in my ears as everyone hoots and hollers.“ Surpri-i-i-i-i-se! ”
Coughing and spitting out bits of paper confetti, I stand there in the doorway. My eyes travel around the room.
There are balloons everywhere. And streamer-looking things. And a birthday banner that spans thirty feet, stretched from wall to wall.
Then I see it. A larger-than-life, blown-up picture of my face, hanging over my favorite table at the back of my brother’s bar.
What the ever loving…?
Y’know what? Some things are just not worth this level of pain.
I turn, ready to dash out the door and run for the hills. I appreciate the effort that went into planning this—but damn—this overstimulation is the very definition of hell. Especially for a self-professed hermit like me.
But I don’t even make it past the threshold before my one and only little sister is pulling me back inside.
“Karli…” I growl under my breath as she directs me to the center of the crowded bar, holding my arm hostage as snow melts under my boots.
“Happy birthday to my favorite brother,” she says sweetly, kissing me on the cheek. Then her voice goes low and threatening in my ear. “I love you, Archer. But if you blow off this party I planned, I’ll break into your house and suffocate you with sparkle ribbon in your sleep.”
“Yeah, love you too,” I grumble.
Then I’m surrounded by the guys.
“So, how’s it feel to be an old man?” Karli’s husband, Mason, asks, shuffling forward to clap me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, man. How’s your back feeling? According to the medical journals, that’s the first to go when you hit thirty-seven,” Felix adds.
“Shut up,” I mutter. “I’m not that much older than you losers. Especially you, Felix.” I may be the oldest but Felix is Brighton brother number two. He and Mason took over the family medical clinic when Dad retired.
“Nah.” Ronan wags his head. “I don’t know about the rest of you but me and Noles are practically still babies.” The family goofball pinches his twin’s bearded cheek. That earns him a well-deserved elbow to the ribs from Nolan.
Those two are the youngest of my brothers and they couldn’t be more different. While Ronan is the annoying but lovable hockey team captain, Nolan is the growly bartender who gave up his hockey dreams to raise his daughter and run this bar our grandpa handed off to him.
Darius—a.k.a number three in the Brighton sibling line-up—leans in then. I’m pretty sure he’s going to hug me or something. But then he’s inspecting my head like a damn weirdo.
“What are you doing?” I shove him off of me and he laughs.
“Is that a bald spot I see in there?” He calls out to Felix. “Hey bro—you have any doctor friends who specialize in hair transplants? Or should I start making a few calls?”
They all laugh. They think they’re so funny. Whatever.
As much as I don’t want to be here, I know I look good tonight and I’m feeling confident about that. I combed my hair and I even put on a nice shirt. A black one with buttons up the front.
“My hair is thicker than ever—thank you very much. I could be in a freaking shampoo commercial if I wanted to.” Eyeballing Darius, I proudly rake my fingers through the healthy waves on my head. “But you should maybe get yourself some sort of treatment for that scraggly beard of yours, D.”
Darius is a big shot billionaire with all sorts of connections and he’s never afraid to use them. He might as well use them for a worthy cause.
“I hate you,” he deadpans, self-consciously stroking his jaw.
“Whatever. You started it.” I quirk a shoulder.
My brothers continue taking turns giving me shit. What’s new? Just another day in paradise.
I shake my head at them. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice or something on my birthday?”
I shouldn’t have to be subjected to this treatment today of all days. I really, really want to go home where there’s a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle I’ve been working on and a good bottle of whiskey waiting for me.
I’m scanning the room, searching for an escape route when my eyes catch on Layla’s.
She’s at the back of the bar, looking cute and biting down on the straw in her colorful drink in order to hide her grin. I just stare.
As usual, she looks at me and I’m freaking hypnotized.
It’s only been an hour or so since I saw her at work. Still, my eyes thirstily drink her in. Something about Layla just pulls me in every time.
I try to wade through the crowd and get to her, but I’m stopped again and again by locals who want to wish me a happy birthday. And ask me how the hardware store is going. And talk about how cold it is these days and how quickly the Holidays flew by.
It goes on and on and on.
I make small talk until my throat is sore—my own personal nightmare—since I’d rather just be left alone. I get pulled into one conversation after the next, and I lose track of Layla several times.
The worst part of it all is the women of all ages coming up and hitting on me. The thumbs up and winks of encouragement from my brothers across the room aren’t making matters any better.
Currently, some girls young enough to be jailbait are fighting for the microphone to give their best impression of Marilyn Monroe’s famous Happy Birthday performance.
I tune it all out, scanning the place until I find Layla again. She’s with her girlfriends at the bar, getting her drink refilled. Now that Ziggy and Darius are expecting a baby, all the girls have been sticking to fancy non-alcoholic lemonades as a show of solidarity.
When the creepy birthday performance is over and the stereo comes back on, my sister pulls Layla to the dance floor, and she goes willingly. Daphne and Ziggy join in and they all laugh as they dance around. Seeing them having a good time makes me crack a smile.
At least someone should enjoy this party that’s been forced on me.
As people continue to come up to me and talk my ear off, my eyes keep roaming back to Layla and her little pink dress. It’s got long sleeves and dips low in the back and swishes around her knees. It’s far less revealing than the other women’s outfits tonight. Even still, it’s a heart-stopping departure from her usual jeans and sweaters. And she is hands down sexier than everyone else in this bar.
After way too much useless chitchat, my social battery is completely drained. With a tired sigh, I collapse into my favorite booth in the back of the bar, cringing at the fact that my face is plastered on poster paper hanging above my head.
I stare at Layla. I don’t even bother trying to hide it.
She twirls carelessly around the dance floor, her laughter floating up in the air.
Soon, her eyes find mine, and she catches me staring.
I should look away. But I don’t. I can’t. She holds my gaze for a moment and my pulse ricochets in my neck.
With a sly grin, she leaves her friends on the dance floor and finds her way to me.
“Hey there,” she says playfully when she makes it to the edge of my booth. “Has anybody asked you to dance tonight, birthday boy?”
A jolt zips through me but I try to play it cool. “Eh. Sorry. I’m not really in a dancing mood.”
Layla rolls her eyes, scoffing at me. “Are you ever? Come on.” She stretches a hand out. “You only turn thirty-seven once. And thirty-seven calls for dancing.”
I glance over her back, finding all my nosy siblings watching our exchange. Ugh. It’s times like this that I wish I could have been an only child.
Returning my attention to Layla, I sluggishly lift a shoulder. “I’ll be thirty-seven for the next three hundred and sixty five days. And then, guess what?”
She leans in, gaze riveted on mine. “What?”
I lean closer, too. “Then, I’ll be…thirty-eight.”
She barks out a laugh, throwing her head back. The dazzling sound makes the wires spark to life inside my chest. It’s sad to say, but this beautiful girl laughing at my lame joke is the highpoint of my whole day.
“Exactly!” She points a dainty finger at me. “By this time next year, you’ll be too frail to even get out of your chair, and you’ll regret that you wasted this youthful night.”
I want to turn her down because there are way too many eyes following my every move right now. But I’m reminded of the night of Karli and Mason’s wedding. At the reception, I’d really, really wanted to dance with Layla. But long story short, I’d missed my shot when I practically head-butted her and almost gave her a concussion instead.
After that, I spent countless nights lying awake, wondering what it would have been like to dance with Layla. To hold her close. To have her in my arms. I can’t make the same mistake tonight.
She waves her still-outstretched hand at me. “Everybody’s watching.” She smirks. “Don’t leave me hanging. Dance with me, old man.”
I let out a sigh, knowing I’ll have to listen to my brothers’s bullshit later.“Fine.”
There’s a victorious bounce in Layla’s step as she leads me to a spot on the floor near the jukebox. Then suddenly, the most beautiful girl in the room is encased in my arms, exactly the way I’ve always wanted her to be.
And for the life of me, I can no longer remember why it even bothered me to have my siblings all gawking at me.I couldn’t care less who’s watching. Not right now, at least.
I’m far too busy, focused on how to keep from pulling Layla’s soft body flush against mine and wrapping her up in a way that’s not appropriate for a pre-ten o’clock birthday party.
Every soft brush of her skin.The fruity scent of her shampoo.The warmth emanating from her body.
She’s the perfect combination of sassy and shy. Sweet in a way that’s borderline angelic. But every now and then, the snarkiest words come flying out of those rosy, heart-shaped lips, always catching me by surprise.
My senses are on overload, and I’m rocking side to side, silently losing my shit. But Layla? She is perfectly composed. Beaming a happy, relaxed, platonic-as-fuck smile up at me.
Holy hell.
I need a distraction. Anything to fix this growing erection before I accidentally poke Layla in the stomach and send her running for the hills.
I clear the knot in my throat and lean in to talk over the music. “Y’know, you really could have given me a heads up about this party.”
She shakes her head. “You didn’t need a heads up. Deep down, you already knew Karli would be throwing you an epic party.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize that she’s right. I did know it. I was just hopeful that I was wrong.
For the past few years, Karli had been away at college, always missing my birthdays, and last year, she was busy basking in the joy of being a newly wed. So, thankfully, I was able to fly under the radar and escape the threat of her surprise parties.
But now that she’s married and settled here in Starlight Falls, of course my little sister is going to go all out and make a big fuss over me.
Layla carries on, her magical, little hands reaching up to rest lightly on my shoulders as we dance. “Besides, if I had warned you, you might have stayed home and missed all the fun.”
My upper lip twitches. “True.”
“And if you’d stayed home, then who would I be dancing with right now?” She shimmies cheekily.
“Psht. So you’re just using me for my superior dancing skills?”
“Maybe I am.” She quirks a dainty shoulder. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“Not sure I like being taken advantage of, Belle.”
She raises a curious eyebrow at me, a questioning smile faintly tilting one corner of her mouth. “ Belle …?”
Shit. Can’t believe I let that slip out. My earlobes heat and prickle.
Belle—it’s what I’ve been calling her in my head for years now. I never imagined I’d say it out loud.
Before she can question me further, I spin her around, catching her off guard as I sweep her off her feet. She gasps and then giggles, face alight with mirth.
Her laughter is enchanting. I could listen to it all day. But in recent times, it feels like life has been working overtime to take it away from her. I know she’s fought like hell to earn every drop of happiness in her life these days, and I respect her so much for that.
Layla’s eyes bounce between mine. “Seriously though, you really do need to put yourself out there more.”
“Eh. False.”
She slaps at my shoulder. “Oh, come on. You could meet someone…”
“Do you have any idea how unappealing that sounds?” I nearly shudder at the idea.
Layla shakes her head dismally. “Companionship? A partner to spend your life with? That’s unappealing to you? You’re a great guy. You could make someone really happy, Archer.”
I feel a painful thump inside my chest. I’m not sure what that foreign sensation could be. Because as far as I know, my heart has been dead for years now. The hollow space beneath my ribcage is nothing but a graveyard. Any dumb, hopeful dreams and positive outlooks on love I may have once held were laid to rest a long, long time ago.
“Too bad I don’t want that ‘someone’ all up in my space. I like being alone.” I sound stubborn, even to my own ears.
Layla huffs a little, looking defeated. “Well, fine then. You like being alone. But for the next three to four minutes, can you at least pretend you enjoy dancing with me?”
Her brown eyes twinkle up at me and she looks genuinely hopeful. Dark hair cascading in silky waves around her narrow shoulders. Pale, freckled skin glowing beneath the bar lights. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I sigh, acting like it’s all a burden. Yet still, my hands cling a little tighter to her soft waist. “Fine.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, her phone dings. She stops swaying in my arms to slide the phone out of the little purse slung across her chest. As soon as she reads whatever’s on the screen, the joy drains from her face.
Alarm bells sound in my head. “What’s wrong? Everything okay?”
Layla’s head snaps up to mine, and she paints on a brilliant smile. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Everything’s great, but…I’ve…I’ve got to go.” She’s already backing up, eyes darting toward the exit.
“Layla…?”
“Tell Karli I’ll text her!” she calls out over her shoulder.
She grabs her coat from the hook by the door. And then, she’s gone.