Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Archie
I noticed her before she noticed me.
Of course I did.
She walked into the room like she wasn’t trying to command attention, and somehow she had my full attention, anyway. Nothing about her was loud or flashy, but she had a presence about her that was undeniable.
From the way Troy straightened, he saw her a second later.
The smile that spread across his face was immediate and completely unguarded. So unlike the man I knew.
That was interesting. He really had it bad. And from what I understood, he’d only spent one evening and a couple of short minutes during the speed dating round with her.
She didn’t see me at first. She went straight to him, warm and bright, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And I felt something low and sharp settle in my chest.
So this was Hope.
“She’s different,” Troy had said when he noticed me at the bar and invited me to stay and meet up with her. I was slightly skeptical but intrigued by my normally stoic friend being so excited.
Now I understood.
When she finally turned and noticed me, there was that brief flicker in her eyes. Definite surprise, a bit of wariness, and then the politeness snapping into place. She recovered quickly.
And then she smiled at me.
I could quite easily admit when I was wrong. And I was wrong to doubt my friend. Hope’s beauty, coupled with her friendly nature, would soon become addictive.
Then she admitted her heart was being tugged in five different directions.
Troy softened immediately. Of course he did. That was who he was at the heart of things. Serious, kind, generous, and sweet.
He handled it beautifully. Reassured her and thanked her for her honesty.
And I totally agreed with everything he said.
If her heart was being pulled in five directions… that meant she felt something real, for at least Troy at this point.
And if she felt something real, that meant this wasn’t a game to her. Which, in turn, meant the competition mattered. I’d never minded a good competition.
What interested me more was the fact that she chose to tell us. Hope hadn’t needed to tell us anything. She could have kept it to herself. It said a lot about her she chose to open up, especially this early on. And I liked that.
I liked it enough that I was happy to go into this thing with my eyes wide open.
Thankfully, after that dreadfully serious start to our evening, we moved to a table in the Mexican restaurant, and the conversation shifted to easier, friendlier territory.
“So, Hope. Troy already told me what you do for a job. Tell me a little more about yourself,” I asked, leaning forward, clutching my drink in front of me.
She hesitated just slightly, like she was deciding which version of herself to hand over.
“Well,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “what would you like to know?”
That earned a slow smile from me. I could have a lot of fun with that. “So… dealer’s choice.”
Troy snorted softly into his glass. “Careful, Hope. He’ll absolutely hold you to that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said, but she was smiling now. A big, bright, open smile.
“I suppose,” she continued, “outside of work… I read. A lot. I hike when I can. I bake when I’m stressed.”
“Bake?” I lifted a brow. “That feels dangerous.”
Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Why?”
“Because now I’m going to assume you show up to dates with homemade desserts.”
She laughed. It was a bright, unguarded sound that turned more than one head in the restaurant. “That would set a very unrealistic standard, don’t you think?”
“I disagree,” I said smoothly. “I think that’s exactly the standard you should be setting.”
She shook her head, but there it was again, that tempting blush creeping up her cheeks.
I loved how quickly she reddened, and savored an idle thought about other body parts reddening, but this time at my hand or a paddle.
“And what about you?” she asked, lifting her chin just slightly. “What do you do when you’re not dramatically interrogating people over cocktails?”
Ah. Cheeky lass.
“I don’t interrogate everyone,” I said mildly. “Just the interesting ones.”
Troy laughed outright at that, but Hope held my gaze.
“Oh? And what qualifies someone as interesting?”
I let my gaze linger on her for half a second longer than necessary before answering. “Curiosity,” I said. “A sharp tongue disguised as sweetness. The ability to blush and still hold eye contact.”
Her cheeks warmed on cue, but she didn’t look away.
Troy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “He means he likes women who don’t scare easily.”
“I don’t scare easily,” Hope shot back.
“No,” I agreed softly. “It seems you truly don’t.”
“And what about you, Arch?” Troy cut in smoothly. “Since we’re apparently listing desirable traits. What makes you interesting?”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “I wasn’t aware I was being evaluated.”
“Oh, you are,” Hope said brightly. “Thoroughly.”
Troy raised his glass toward her. “I see I should have warned Archie about you, minx.”
I shook my head, amused despite myself. “Fine. I work way too much. I have an unfortunate talent for winning arguments. And I make an excellent full English.”
Her brows lifted. “That’s a very specific brag.”
“It’s a very specific skill.” I shrugged. Pretending to be humble had never been my strong suit.
“She’s judging whether a proper British breakfast is good enough to compete with her stress-baking,” Troy informed me.
Hope gasped softly. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are,” he replied.
She turned to him, mock-offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” Troy said easily. “But I’m also enjoying this.”
That made her laugh again, and the sound did something warm and unwelcome to my ribs.
“So,” she said, looking between us, “is this how it’s going to be? The two of you ganging up on me?”
“Hardly,” I said. “If we were ganging up on you, you’d know.”
Her eyes flashed. “Is that a threat?”
Troy nearly choked on the chip he’d just dipped into the salsa.
“It’s a promise,” I replied lightly, enjoying that flush rising up her face yet again.
Then Troy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Alright, new rule,” he said, breaking the sudden sexual tension between the three of us. “If Archie’s going to flirt shamelessly, I get equal time.”
Hope blinked. “Equal time?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding decisively. “I refuse to be outdone on my own date.”
I arched a brow. “I believe it became our date, mate, when you told me to stick around because I just ‘had to meet this amazing girl’.”
Troy shot me a look. “Semantics.”
Hope covered her smile with her hand, but she was glowing now. “Well,” she said, settling back in her chair, “I suppose I’ll allow it.”
“Allow it?” I repeated, delighted by this submissive with a backbone.
She gave me the smallest shrug. “You both seem very eager to impress me.”
Troy grinned. “Oh, we are.”
I didn’t look away from her when I added, “He’s not wrong.”
Hope’s blush deepened, but she laughed, shaking her head at both of us. “You two are ridiculous.”
“True,” Troy agreed easily. “But you’re having fun.”
Her smile turned softer then. “I am. I really am.”
Something quiet settled over the table after that.
The teasing eased into comfortable conversation again, the kind that wandered from favorite foods to terrible childhood haircuts to which part of the Ranch she’d liked most so far.
By the time our drinks were empty, food consumed, and tables had begun to clear around us, none of us seemed in a hurry to move.
But eventually Troy glanced at his watch and sighed. “Cinderella has a curfew, doesn’t she?”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “I do want to get an early start.”
“Then we’d better be gentlemen,” I said, standing and offering her my hand.
She took it without hesitation.
The walk back to her room was relaxed and pleasant. It was quiet now, most people had probably already turned in for the evening, and Hope walked between us, swinging her joined hands just a little like she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
At her door she hesitated, turning to face us.
“I… had a lovely time,” she said, voice soft again.
Troy brushed a strand of flaxen hair back from her cheek. “So did we.”
I watched her for a moment, memorizing the way her bright brown eyes sparkled as she took us in.
She looked at Troy first, almost instinctively. He leaned down and kissed her gently, sweet and unhurried. When he stepped back, she looked dazed in the nicest way.
Then her gaze flicked to me.
“Goodnight, Hope,” I murmured.
She rose on her toes before I could change my mind. The kiss was just as soft, just as careful… but she lingered half a heartbeat longer, like she was trying to get a better taste of me.
When she pulled back, she pressed her hand to her mouth, blushing furiously. “Goodnight.”
We waited until she slipped inside before turning away.
Troy let out a slow breath. “Well.”
“Well,” I echoed.
Well indeed.